My body thinks it’s pregnant and it’s not and that sucks.

Tonight I’m exhausted and writing from a bubble bath, complete with a fizzing bath bomb. Why do you ask? Because I deserve it damnit. Also because I was on my feet for 8 hours straight and ran a pancake breakfast/ blood drive today for the rotary club. But mostly because I deserve to treat myself well. An inconvienent, albeit harmless, side effect from all of the hormones is my stomach thinking it’s apparently pregnant as now that my bloating has all but gone, the odd protrusion of my stomach remains. No, it isn’t anything too weird, but to give you some background I’ve always been the athletic person who has never had a protruding stomach. I’ve always been self-conscious about my lower extremities, and feeling like I’m now even more off balance… well. So to see a protrusion and to expect there to be something in it, and then for it to be nothing but hormones… well now I feel fat on top of feeling incomplete. I know I am capable of getting my body back to where I am comfortable, but the really sucky thing is that I still don’t have a baby and it’s this reminder that we aren’t allowed to even try to make one naturally otherwise there’s a really big chance that our baby is going to develop breast/ovarian/or testicular cancer in his or her lifetime. I can’t do that to my child if I know better. Hubs tries to be supportive and to make me as comfortable and happy as possible, but this is something that he can’t fix and we can’t control. I hate this whole thing. Today I wish we never wanted kids so we wouldn’t have had to go through this ordeal. Maybe we would have put our time and energy and hopes into other events and experiences. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt like this.  Maybe our relationship would be better than it has been recently. Maybe it wouldn’t suck so badly.

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