Strangely for me, for the last three months I have been having somewhat regular periods. They are not the typical 28 days apart, I don't even think they are the same length apart, but I have had a period roughly every five weeks or something for the last three cycles.
I've never in my life charted my cycles, and I 'spose now is the time as every second waking thought strays to babies.
Anyway, cut to the point of the post and the reason my heart is heavy... In the last 48 hours, I kind of allowed myself to imagine that I might be pregnant. I know it's not impossible for me to get pregnant, stranger things have happened... but to be fair, it's probably unlikely at my weight, with my PCOS and even if I did, the septate uterus would make it difficult to carry to term anyway.
But, hope is a dangerous thing. Hope ends in heartache. Why do I allow myself to indulge?
About two weeks ago, I had ovulation pain. Some people doubt that women can feel such things, and I guess many can't. But a lot of the time (when my body does actually do what it's meant to do), when I do ovulate I can feel which ovary I am ovulating from. I get a dull aching pain and the odd crampy feeling on either my left or right side. Two weeks ago, it was the right ovary.
One week ago, I started having period pains (thankfully, I am not one of those women that get severe cramps), back ache and really sore boobs. Typical signs (for me) that my period is on its way in a couple of days. Well, a couple of days turned into a week, and still not even a spot.
It suddenly occurred to me, that OH-MY-GOD maybe there was a possibility that it wasn't going to come? And those symptoms might mean something infinitely better? A baby? Enter Hope.
Hope has been given a leg up by the fact for the last week (even before I even thought it might be a possibility) by the fact that I have been having very, very, very vivid dreams about being pregnant and then nursing my baby and walking along the street with them as they grew a bit older. The dreams felt so real. SO REAL. I can still picture every single one of my children from each of the dreams. I can see what they looked like, I can see their little cheeks, remember what features came from me and which from their father. They weren't the kind of surreal, wacky, non-sensical dreams that are more familiar to me... you know the type of dreams I mean, the type that follow no rhyme nor reason.
These dreams were real. The children, my children, were real. And after waking up from each one in the morning I felt empty. Broken. Sad. I missed them. These children that don't actually exist that I dreamt up, I missed them terribly and my heart ached to have them back.
So, then two days ago it was like a light bulb moment. Could I be pregnant?
Turns out No... I can't. I just started spotting half an hour ago.
In my head, I think well it's for the best. I need to lose weight first and I need to have the septum removed from my uterus to give me the best chance of carrying a baby to term. I just have to turn this grief - and that is literally how I feel - into motivation.
My heart hurts, and I am only a stray thought away from tears. Must go and keep myself busy, not give myself anytime to think about what was never going to be.
Will go for a walk after dinner tonight. Motivation.
No comments:
Post a Comment