What can I say that hasn’t been said a thousand times and more eloquently than I can manage here?
That I’m struggling to stay positive when I have no symptoms that cannot be directly attributed to the hormones being injected nightly into my ass by my husband? And probably won’t for weeks?
That I’m terrified this pregnancy is already over, less than a week after first seeing those two pink lines?
That I can’t sleep? That I lie awake imagining all the horrific ways this pregnancy could end?
That I know too much? That I have read too many blogs detailing the multitude of ways a pregnancy can end unhappily?
That I’ve looked at half a dozen prenatal yoga videos online but can’t bring myself to buy any of them, afraid they will only become a reminder of what I’ve already lost?
That someone–anyone–reading this will think I’m being overly dramatic, that I’m seeking attention and pity, that my fears aren’t real?
That I’ve told others worrying won’t change the outcome but am terrible at following my own advice?
That I would kill for some nausea right about now?
That I know negative thinking has gotten me nowhere in the past, but I can’t seem to help myself?
That I’m trying my best to hide these
probably irrational fears for my husband’s sake?
That I’ve looked myself in the mirror and said, “Stop it. Stopitstopitstopit. You might as well be fucking happy while you can. Just be fucking happy,” as if that would solve everything?