I’ve been having some health related issues recently, the largest one is now under control and I’m feeling much better. However, I had another “scare” recently, that brought some buried feelings to the surface. I woke up a week ago and realized that I was late…5 days late to be exact. I wasn’t worried about it, but since I had to call my doctor for something else anyway, I figured I’d mention it. She suggested waiting it out, it could be stress, I agreed and went about things as usual. When last Friday hit and I was then 9 days late, she suggested taking a test. Again I wasn’t panicked, I was sure that couldn’t be it (though there was a small possiblity it could have been it). One of my best friends was coming to stay at our place that night and I felt I should warn her of the next mornings activity, just in case she heard screams. She was excited and ready for her little girl to have a new friend. I warned though, that it may not be all excitement in our house at the results. She understood.

I stopped on my way home Friday night and spent 20 minutes staring at the shelves of pregnancy tests. (Side note: Why are there so many of those things to pick from? Seriously???) Anyway, after picking up and putting back several boxes, I decided on the one in the pretty pink box (First Response I believe). As I pushed my cart through the store picking up the remainder of the groceries I needed, I wondered how many people were staring into my cart and juging me and my little test. Why did I care, you ask? I couldn’t tell you. I’m married to a wonderful man, we have our very own house and both have full time jobs, it’s the “american dream” right? Still I felt like there was something wrong with me having it in my cart. I even did self-checkout so the cashier couldn’t stare at me and judge….

On my drive home I called the hubby to tell him that “doctors orders” were to take the test the next morning. He said “okay”, but I knew there was more behind that than he was letting on. We’ve had this conversation, more times than I can count. We both want a family, one of us is ready, the other is not. No matter how things went the next morning, one of us was going to get what we wanted and the other wasn’t. Looking back now, I think I understand some of the underlying crankiness I noticed was happening with him leading up to the actual test day. He was aware, as each day passed, that I was later and later, and the realization that we could now be 3 instead of 2 probably wasn’t sitting so well with him. There are things he wants to accomplish before we expand our family, things that are extremely important to him and are not (as) possible if there’s a newborn in the picture.

Saturday morning arrived and as the hubby and I woke up, we both looked at each other. I didn’t want to get out of bed, I knew what I had to do and I didn’t want to. I wasn’t really worried about the test results, it was his reaction that was keeping me from springing into the bathroom. He finally said “just get up and go do it” and I did. The next three minutes were hell, I was mentally torn about what I wanted that little stick to tell me. I sooo wanted to be a mommy, but my husband sooo did not want to be a daddy (yet). Do I go selfish and hope for a plus or resign myself to another year with no baby. I convinced myself when the test read negative that I was happy about it.

I walked back into our bedroom and laid down next to my husband. I didn’t say anything until he finally asked “well?”. “No baby” I replied, my heart sank a little, but again I didn’t let on. It was for the best, right? Only one of us was ready anyway. Even when I brok e the news to Nikki that morning, I was convincing myself that it was for the best this way. She was dissapointed (I could tell in her face), but she didn’t mention another thing about it the rest of the time she was there (thank you for that, btw).

I continued to hold a little hope as more days passed and I was still late, maybe the test was wrong. Maybe my level wasn’t high enough to be detected….maybe. This morning confirmed the test was telling the truth. I spent my car ride into the office convincing myself that it was okay, everything is as it should be. Afterall, it would mean serious financial juggling, more doctors appointments, I’m not sure if I have maternity leave at work and my hubby was still working toward a pre-baby goal. It’s just for the better this way…

My heart doesn’t feel like that though. When you strip it all down, take all the “fluff” away, I’m a lot more broken inside about it than I let on. I can’t explain this to my husband, as a woman, I just “feel” like I’m ready to be a mom. It hurts in a way words can’t describe. Holding my friends 2 week old baby on Saturday brought all of this even closer to the surface. Everyone kept saying “you look like you want one”, and I do. My hubby just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. I can’t expect him to understand and it’s not in anyway his fault that we aren’t on the same page.

There is something he’s working toward and it has to come before a baby does, unfortunately there is something I’m working toward and it can’t come until a baby does. It’s one hell of a crossroads to be at and I’m not sure what to do. I know I want to support him and it means a sacrafice on my part, but how do I make the hurting stop so I can be the supportive wife I want to be? Where do I put my feelings and thoughts, so they are tucked away far enough to not make me an emotional mess? And how do you let go of something you never even had?

First comes love, then comes marriage, then….you wait.

**Photo credit goes to @NikolSpencer**

My husband’s grandmother passed away last Friday. I was out of town when he called me, standing in the middle of a Kroger grocery store in Indiana to be exact. He wasn’t going to call, but his brother (correctly) suggested that he should let me know, even if I was on “vacation” for the weekend. I took in the information, asked him a million times if he wanted me to come home and, after he assured me I should stay, put it away. I just shut it off in my head. I thought about it, but couldn’t react to it. I went through the rest of the weekend, accomplishing what I was there to do, spend time with my friend who I don’t see very often and finish my Bachelorette scrapbook.

On the drive home I thought about Grandma Porter, all of the times I got to spend with her, what a truly classy lady she was, how I always enjoyed her stories and how she always made me feel like I was family, even 6 years ago when I was B’s “new” girlfriend. I still didn’t react though, I just thought.

Her memorial service is tomorrow. Starting at 9am and going until 2:30pm. I’m nervous. I’m afraid the emotion that has been sitting in reserve will spill out and I’ll be a big mess. I’m afraid that the things I haven’t “dealt” with yet will flood over me and some one is going to have to mop me off the floor. I’m also afraid that this won’t happen, I’ll stay composed and the emotions will be held in reserve again.

I don’t know how to cope with this one. I can still hear her voice telling stories in my head, almost as if she’s right there next to me. I can see her face, and her wide smile. She had such a soothing tone, so soft spoken and so full of love. I keep feeling that if I had known the last time was the last, I would have given her a bigger, tighter goodbye hug.

Cross your fingers for me that I make it through tomorrow retaining some form of composure, but letting myself grieve too. I hope my husband can do the same, I don’t think he’s completely dealt with it either.