You gotta have faith

I've had the strangest feelings over the past few weeks. The sadness has been tough, knowing that my goal of pregnancy this year did not come. It is a weird pain, an aching in my heart and a little aching for Kent too. I have found myself staring out the window at work and looking at the cathedral that is across the street. I was raised Catholic, but I don't attend church and I could tell you very little about the religion. There are a few things that I loved about church though, I loved the signing and saying peace be with you to strangers around.

This April when we were in Vatican City I joked with Kent that I wanted him to pray for smaller thighs for me. I actually said a silent prayer to God, asking him to help me become a mom. I mean can I get any closer to the higher ups within the Catholic world? My entire life I have worried about getting pregnant, I have no idea why. I've always been really overweight and feared nobody would love me enough to marry me. But deep down I've had a suspicion. You don't start your cycle at 10 and have it be crazy forever. I use to joke that I could go through a box of tampons in a year, and I'm not talking Costco size boxes. Friends were envious of my missing cycle, but the envy is over. Now it is more of a pity.

This past week-end I found myself at a house party and I wasn't prepared mentally, the questions about how our marriage was and what we were up to. The prying of personal questions about why things have been hard (I was just too honest, it just came out). I'm not a sweet talker when things are not sweet. I was honest and said we were going through a rough patch with starting a family. But my favorite was the discovery that this bitchy woman that Kent has known since high school, who was married in late September, got knocked up on her honeymoon and was walking around rubbing her belly (which is flatter than a board) and telling everyone her good news. I had not seen her since last Christmas, when she sulked on the sofa because there was no engagement ring on her finger. So when I saw her I naturally said congrats, as in congrats on your wedding, but she patted her flat-ass belly and smiled. France was "good to them." I probably turned white as a ghost and I wanted to scream, "are you F*ing kidding me!" but that is nasty and I am doing my best to combat this negative mind of mine. I know this is rude and selfish, but she is bitchy, down right bitchy, always has been, always will be. Knowing she is going to be someones mom so quickly....ahhh...this is where my faith needs to come in. Faith that Kent and I will continue in a positive way and take care of ourselves. Faith that our dreams will come true, somehow, someway. So we have the next 4-8 weeks of taking care of ourselves and not focusing on TTC. I honestly may find myself on the lawn of that church, saying a little prayer for myself that hopefully someone is listening too.