This morning I realized that a week from tomorrow will be a full year from when we started this journey. A year. It feels like just yesterday, and ages ago at the same time. I am not the same person I was a year ago, that’s for sure. This experience has definitely changed me, changed my outlook, changed how I see the entire process of having a baby. I’m now painfully aware of just how long it can take, and that time sort of stands still when you’re living your life in two week increments (period to ovulation, ovulation to pregnancy test. Lather, rinse, repeat). I also know that a positive pregnancy doesn’t always equal a baby, and whenever I hear about someone else’s pregnancy, I am automatically guarded for them, because I know just how much it hurts to go from being over-the-moon excited to more devastated than you’ve ever felt in your entire life in a matter of seconds. I’ll also never again ask someone when they want to start having kids, because I know how much of a loaded question that seemingly innocent topic is. Not to mention, even when you finally “decide” to start a family, sometimes you find it’s not your decision to make.
In short, I’m jaded. I’m broken. That’s what a year will do to you.