Two Pink Lines {Trying to Conceive}

I know it’s ridiculous.
I know just because I think something, doesn’t make it truth.  
But I felt such a loss. Though I didn’t lose anything, or anyone I should say.
Getting pregnant was a struggle with our first, then an unplanned God-sent surprise with our second.
I can call it hopeful, though it’s filed under naïve, that I just assumed it would be a swift attempt to make number three.
I thought within no time would I feel that shifting deep inside. My  body and heart making room for this new person.
Recently, I thought I was feeling that familiar widening of space. Those twinges and cramps that awaken sleeping parts of a mother in me. The gut reaction to hold my hands against my abdomen for no reason at all, other than to acknowledge. I claimed these sensations. I felt lighter and heavier all at once. I became pregnant in my thoughts.
That gap from month to month becomes a waiting room.  I needed confirmation. I took some tests. I didn’t see two pink lines. By default I assumed it was too early.
Then I was late, and started to walk around with a knowing smirk. Planning a grande finale reveal to my husband. But I didn’t see two pink lines.
So I waited, and then I saw red. It raised questions to which I told myself that the levels are still too low and this is spotting.
But more days passed  and I didn’t see two pink lines. Just more red. 
I’d like to say I enjoyed some wine and ate some sushi and soft cheeses. That I quickly moved on and felt peace that all would happen in God’s perfect timing.
Instead those pregnant thoughts birthed into an old tiny man. He sat on a chair in my living room. Invisible and grumbling at how foolish I was to think it could happen so quickly. Scoffing at the unplaced mourning I was in.  
And I know this is that part that sounds crazy.  I cried. For the baby I imagined I was carrying.  I felt such a loss for something I only had in my mind.
So my husband poured me a glass of red. Brought home every soft cheese available in town. He encouraged me to order an eviction notice to the unseen heckler. Then he smiled tenderly and said, ‘guess we will just have to keep trying then’.
This was a quiet ceremony to acknowledge the disappointment that marks my heart’s desires. A refresher course in God’s grace. A nod to the two little miracles that as my Grandma says ‘are on loan to me’. 

I won’t give you all the scripture and quotes that have been patch-quilting into my thoughts. I will just say that I recognize the need to have more faith in the words that leave my lips.  That I am aiming higher at where I place my hope to rest. 

I just needed to be sad for a bit.

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