Four days late.

Gave us a glimmer of hope, like our dreams might just finally come true. Trying not to be too excited, but let's be real we both were. Pillow talk about what our future would look like with a little one, OUR LITTLE ONE in it. Hoping, praying this would be our month. ❤️

And then it happened. I started. All I could do was sit there and cry; gut wrenching sobs. Once again it didn't happen. Once again I feel empty. Once again I feel like I let my husband down. Once again I have to tell him. And each month it kills me a little more. And of course EVERYONE ELSE is getting pregnant around me just by talking about it seems!! 💔💔 I'm sick of being happy for everyone else.

I'm about ready to just give up, I can't handle the disappointment, & the heartache. I can't handle letting my husband again. 💔😭