Maybe tomorrow will be better and I will be able to smile and act like I’m not a mess and maybe I won’t feel like crying every other second.

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Maybe tomorrow when someone asks me “when will you have a baby?” My mind won’t flash back to all three times I got excited over two pink lines only to have that hope washed away a few weeks or a few days later by a sea of red.

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Maybe next time one of my closest friends or family members announce they are expecting by “accident” I won’t have the urge to completely fall apart.

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And maybe the next time I scroll through Facebook, Instagram and even Snapchat and see all of the pregnancy announcements, six month pictures, gender reveals and baby shower pictures I won’t feel my heart completely shattering in my chest.

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Maybe tomorrow I won’t hide under my covers with hot tears rolling down my cheek onto my pillow scared to face the world in fear that my sadness may take anything away from the happiness of others around me sweetly caressing their perfect bump.

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Maybe tomorrow I will feel better but today, today I’m not Okay.