Negative HPT this morning.
It's amazing how my eyes can stare deep into a white plastic stick, practically wishing another line into existence. Maybe if I hold it differently? Look at it under a different light?
Negatory. Nothing. Zilch.
Having hope while being a realist is a tough road to travel sometimes.
I've Googled using more fertility-related acronyms than I can count. Googling stinks. Just don't do it.
All the while, through the pain of very real disappointment and a little bit of anger, I am clinging to what I know about God, what I have to believe: He loves me so much that he would never cause anything to happen (or not happen) if it weren't exactly in His plan, the best plan, for my life.