And so it begins...

Day 2396: As I sat in the waiting room at the hospital, nervous and eager to be seen, I am surrounded by children everywhere I look. A crying two-year-old, a fussing four-year-old, a woman with infant twins that looks so exhausted, I think she might just fall asleep while she is waiting in these uncomfortable chairs. It takes all I can to not burst into tears from the jealousy and envy I feel building up inside of me.

I want, so badly, what they have.

And maybe someday I will get it. But right now, there are just tests and needles and doctors and referrals, and I know they just have to be able to help us, but the longer we wait, the harder it is. This heartbreak is defeating me one blow at a time and I fear that I will soon have no hope left. I fear that every day, I am waiting for something that might never happen. Waiting for something we might never get to have. And that hurts.

It hurts in the supermarket with the kids begging for cookies, or at the work party with the teens hugging their parents. It hurts at the park where every child wants to pet my dog, and at my friends house when I hold her beautiful baby. It hurts when I see that negative test and know that it's just another month to tack onto the end of the timeline of when we will finally get to hold that perfect little miracle in our hands. When we will finally get to have what we have been waiting for, for so long.

And I know it will be worth it. I know that every time I cried, every time I broke down, every time I felt like I couldn't go on will disappear when our time finally comes.

Babies are following me everywhere...

Day 2336: People really aren't kidding when they say that there is a time in your life that you will become baby crazy. Let's be honest, I never truly expected the moment when our parents stopped discouraging "getting jiggy with it" and started encouraging it instead. But since we have always been open about the subject of having a baby, it has become a bit of a running joke for us now a days.

I have always been a bit on the baby crazy side. I knew I wanted to be a mother from the get-go. I have always loved babies and can never seem to get enough of them. Their precious little cheeks, fingers, and toes, and don't even get me started on their little blubbering sounds and baby socks! I nearly die every time I see one out of envy alone!

Darling Dear is a little bit more of a distance admirer. The idea of our own baby is all fine and great, but he isn't usually the type to offer up to holding someone else's spawn. A smile, maybe, but lets face it, who can look at a baby and not smile. But after over a year of trying to make our own little person, even he is going baby crazy! Enough to almost enjoy my endless expression of love for anything baby, smiling at everything related, and even holding the babies of our friend! Shocking!

Because of this, though, I find that the babies seem to be following me everywhere! Darling Dear was the one to broach the "are we ready" convo, so at least I never felt like I was making him take the next step before he was ready, but his show of enthusiasm has flipped another switch in me and I think I have become full on baby INSANE!

I'm hanging in there. Each month brings new challenges but at least we are enduring together. And when I think about one day, when I will get to hold that little bundle in my arms, none of the waiting, or baby crazy will matter anymore. But more than that, I can't wait to share that day and experience it with Darling Dear.

Sometimes late at night...

Day 2334: Sometimes, late at night, I find it difficult to sleep. My brain is wrought with thoughts and lists, and "My gosh! Did I remember to do this and that?!?!?" And sometimes I just want to sleep so badly, and it just isn't coming.

Blame it on daylight-savings, or Darling Dear's wacky schedule (Yes, I get up when he does. Who else would pack him a lunchy??), though I admittedly will return to the sweet comfort of my warm bed for a nap, but sometimes, I just can't rest. Maybe the overload of thoughts and ideas, questions and wonderings, just refuse to let me try.

But deep down, part of me thinks that it's the struggles. The triumphs are great, don't get me wrong, but the pondering of what might have been and what is yet to be has me stuck in a mood that I just can't seem to kick, dwelling on the thing that is just out of my grasp.

"It will happen in it's own time," they say, and sure enough as the sleep will be, with each dusky night, the struggles will end and the day will come. Sometimes, it just takes a little longer to get there. But that doesn't make it any easier.

I didn't think it would be like this...

Day 2286: Almost one year of marriage down and we are still waiting! How much longer will this take! With the slew of people asking about our baby making status. Just because he's home from deployment doesn't mean it's instant!

My poor baby sister is 11 and apparently doesn't think we are working that hard to make her an aunt. That certainly isn't something I want to have to explain. Either way, though, I'll give her this: It is taking forever!

I keep thinking, it really can't take that much longer, but every month that goes by I get a little more discouraged. I like to think that there is a reason, something unbeknownst to us as to why it hasn't happened, but all I have to say is that we are ready. But like everything in the military life: ready, set...wait!

It's an economy size chocolate donut kind of day...

Day 2064: Darling Dear and I have an agreement. Every time that time of the month rolls around for negative pregnancy tests and crime scenes in pants, he buys me a pack of chocolate donuts. This pack of delicious, chocolate covered, buttermilk donuts has become a monthly staple in our home since we started our, what seems to be, tricky battle of producing an offspring.

Months have come and gone and boxes of donuts have been consumed to mask my feelings of disappointment and fulfill my hunger for something more. Try as the little donuts might, it just can't completely mask my void.

And now with Darling Dear gone until who knows when, I see months and months stretched out in front of me, littered with empty donut boxes and an empty uterus. A friend once told me that if the Navy wanted you to have children, they would have issued them, and I am starting to understand.

Try not to care so much...

Day 2035: In the uphill battling of trying to conceive that my poor husband and I have been enduring for the last months of no success, I have to say, nothing frustrates me more than when people say “It will happen when you stop trying,” or “Try not to care so much…” Can you see me staring with horror, jaw dropped to the ground? 

I expected that baby making would be fun and easy. Why wouldn’t it be? Our parent’s never had any trouble. And, yes, while I will admit that the actual baby dancing action is fun, everything else that comes with it is not. People give opinions on if you are trying to soon or not soon enough, if you are trying too hard or not hard enough among the onslaught of the two week waits and visits from Aunt Flow. But my question remains, how do you care less, try less, or think less about it? If only I knew, my gosh, this would be so much easier.

And to make things worse, Pinterest and Facebook are crawling with pictures and ideas for the beautiful spawn of the world. Photo sessions with teeny flower headbands, tiny classy suits, my imagination has an endless stream of hopes and dreams for something that doesn’t even exist. And my gosh! Don’t even get me started on all the shopping! 

It seems that since we have walked the aisle of marriage every banner advertisement I’ve seen has something that I can’t help but picture using on or with our child. And the saver in me wants to start stocking up when I see a good deal, or even WORSE, when that beautiful convertible nursery set that I have been eyeing for months, each time hoping that this will be it, this will be the month that I need a place for our beautiful baby to sleep and grow, goes on sale, I feel like I cry a little inside. Because I can’t buy it now, knowing that I will have to look at it every day, reminding myself what we don’t have, but want so desperately bad.

I wish I could care less sometimes. It would make it easier as each month passes unsuccessfully, brought up with the tears and sadness that dashes away any hope that this time will be our chance. But we have been waiting our whole lives for this, and I have to remember that in the end, all the tears and chocolate donuts will be worth. And we probably won’t be able to care less, try less, or think about it less, just like you wouldn’t expect a child to care less and think less and just sleep the night before Christmas. And I can bet, that once our time does come, once we get to witness those two beautiful pink lines, all the waiting won’t matter anymore.