The past 7 weeks, I've been wondering if maybe I was pregnant. 4 negative pregnancy tests said that I probably wasn't, but there were other signs that said I might be.
Monday, I started my period. At least, as far as I know it was just my period. Almost 7 weeks late.
I spent some time Monday mourning the loss of the potential. Yesterday, I tried to focus on other things.
I have some peace about everything, but my emotions are still a bit tender. I'm not happy that I spent those weeks complaining, even if just to myself, about the changes that my body was undergoing. After waiting, believing, and hoping for so long, it seems silly to me that I was complaining about changes that I want to happen for the end result.
Ace has been wonderfully supportive of me, as he normally is. He is trying to help keep me from dwelling on anything negative and laughing at funny stuff. He's my own personal hero.