I started spotting last night. Faint, but I knew at that moment.
In that moment, looking at pink on the toilet paper, I felt the biggest wave of shame and embarrasment I've felt in a long time.
The tests this morning confirm it in big bold letters: Not Pregnant.
Spotting has continued, symptoms have disappeared, I expect my period at any time today.
Now all I need is a third term stillbirth and I complete the pregnancy loss card.
Too bad the only prizes here are self-loathing and shame for having ever opened my mouth (as it were), for having one second of hope this would work for us, for daring to believe.
I cried as hard as I've cried in months last night. I feel like such a failure. I feel like a moron. I feel like I have let my husband down. The only thing I want more in the world than to be a mother to a living child is to make him the father of one.
Instead I have ashes in my mouth and a black hole of bitterness welling up inside me. Maybe later I can think about how many pregnancies end so early and how it's not my fault or something. Right now all I can think about is how hurt I feel because this is just fucking mean. I could have dealt with not being pregnant this cycle. That's fine. But to make me go through that agony of inconclusive tests, and then this? It is so unnecessary. So cruel.
I am wondering what I did to make the universe or God or who the fuck ever do this. I can't believe things are just random, because then I'd have better odds than this bullshit.
I'm planning to call the doctor anyway, if for no other reason than to get a prescription for Zoloft. It is clear to me that I am not ready to come off anti-depressants and I am not going to attempt this again without a prescription I can take uninterrupted.
For now though, I'm going to go beg the earth to swallow me up instead of trying how to figure out how to tell a group of lovely people on the internet who have wished me well that I was just kidding, apparently.