Can’t leave well enough alone

This week I’m supposed to be a little more than seven months knocked up. With a name picked out. Clothes in drawers. Crib put together. Enjoying the last “when we only have two kids this is what we can do” events. Pissing myself at the thought of another drug-free labor.

Instead, I’m looking at a stick with only one line. And wondering what the hell it means when I can get knocked up when I have ZERO interest in doing so, but can’t when I am trying to. We did everything right and at all the right times. Jesse says maybe we need to change our minds, but it’s probably too late for that.

Ugh. I really need to find a way to get myself in check. Being pissed at the world isn’t going to help. Avoiding my pregnant friends isn’t going to help. Bitching about being on my FUCKING period during student council retreat in the mountains isn’t going to help.

But what will?



  1. Aw Tara I’m so sorry 😦 It’s bullshit, plain and simple, so it’s no small wonder you’re pissed.

  2. Hugs, my friend. 😦

  3. I am so sorry 😦 I know there are no words that can make you feel better, but I will think tons of KTFU thoughts for you!

  4. I’m so sorry.

  5. If it makes you feel any better, my baby should be like 9 months old by now.

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