Devastated

***WARNING TO MALE READERS*** You might not want to read this post. You might feel unalterably uncomfortable if you continue perusing. I mean, we're talking about monthly visitors and all that girly-stuff so... I'm just warning you.


I'm pretty much dragging along today. Life is good and I know I could be happy if I just let this go but I'm holding on for right now. I feel tricked! I feel like God is just taunting me. I go along okay. I'm managing. In the back of my mind, I think about how fun it would be to have a few children and I look at how easy it is for so many people and I wonder why it is hard for Scott and I.

My visitor, on average, comes every 30 days. This month, I was 8 days late and I thought for sure this was THE month. I told Scott and we agreed to test on Wednesday, the 10th if I was still late that would make me 12-whole days late. That's never happened to me before. Surely I would be pregnant and the test would be positive and we would have this UBER-special surprise to share with everyone for Thanksgiving or if I really had patience, Christmas. What a special moment that would be.

I felt the joy of each new day, seeing that still, my visitor wasn't coming. Scott was cautiously excited for us. I was everyday, begging God to make this the real thing. I was afraid to test because I was afraid that it was just a fluke. Just hormones gone array. Just me showing my 30-something, too old for babies, age. But than I had moments of shear joy, thinking this must be it! This must be my dream finally realized. Finally, a sibling for Kate. Finally I'm not the unfavored daughter of God waiting, eternally in the mushpot. Finally, finally something exciting for me! Finally...

But, as luck would have it, the test was negative. I came out calm. Only one small tear down my cheek and an extremely long hug from Scott. We went to bed. Scott immediately fell asleep upon hitting the pillow - as he most often does - and I laid there beginning my whine to God. 

I started out by telling Him that I just couldn't pray tonight, I'm just too hurt. I took this one personally because I thought the least He could do if He really didn't plan on sending me His greatest of all gifts is send my visitor at least somewhat on time so I didn't build up my hopes so high. But as I told Him that I didn't want to talk to Him. The tears flowed and I sobbed and sobbed. "What do I do now?, " I asked Him, "How do I overcome this devastation? How will I ever feel your (speaking to God still) love again? You couldn't possibly really love me. What is the point of all this? I know I said I would look into adoption if this month didn't work for us but I can't. I don't want to adopt."

A little after midnight, my prayer turned into a plea. I then I begged for comfort. "Please send me angels to carry me through this. Hold me. Please, I feel so alone." I begged for this in a silent chant for a few minutes with only my audible sobs giving me away. Scott heard and let out a quiet, "I'm sorry, Julie." And that was it. I got the message from God that He wasn't even going to send angels to comfort me. Honestly! Couldn't He have done that one small thing? Just to show that He gets it. I know He woke Scott to quasi-comfort me because why would He send angels when there is a perfectly able human lying beside me. But I wanted more. I wanted to be held the whole night through. I wanted promises of the better gift that was just around the corner.

So, now I'm doubly devastated. No angels, no baby. I'm not dead yet, that's good, but I'm pretty beat up from my rough night. I have no idea where to go from here.