Today, I am supposed to start my period. Hasn't happened, but the day isn't over yet. In an overly expectant mood this morning, I peed on a stick (or took a pregnancy test, stick with whichever phrase makes you happy). It came up negative. Happy Valentine's Day from my body.
Then we went and started getting our taxes done. While we were there, the tax guy mentioned that he and his wife are going to have #5. Great for them, hard on someone waiting for #1. And getting taxes done is like the least romantic thing to do on Valentine's Day.
Then, Amalah, whose blog I love reading (and her son is so cute it makes my blood-sugar rise just looking at him) decides to tell us that she's pregnant with #2.
I'm happy for them, I'm just fighting off the green-eyed monster as I'm sitting here. And I'm waiting for something to happen over here in this body. Will I be pregnant or has my body just been messing with me lately?
Is it okay to cry with frustration? Or should I gorge myself on the brownies cooling in the kitchen?