I was supposed to start on Sunday or Monday. I haven't really been feeling the normal way I feel before I start my cycle and I couldn't help but get more and more excited yesterday everytime I went to the bathroom and discovered I still hadn't started. This morning I woke up and realized I still hdnt started, so naturally I went under the sink to grab an EPT. I try not to get excited as I wait for the result, but naturally my brain starts wandering back to the last few weeks and justifying every act with pregnancy. I think about all the obstacles I have overcame and all the people I have proved wrong and begin to think that PCOS diagnosis can shove it because I am having a baby. My mind dances to the future twirling around the idea of my belly growing with life.  I allow myself to dream for those three minutes I await the results. Those dreams are soon smashed by a dark singular horizontal line. I begin to hate my mind for allowing me to believe it's possible. I throw away the evidence so my husband doesn't have to feel this defeat again. I throw away the evidence so that he doesn't look at me with those beautiful blue eyes filled with pity telling me again how it will happen when God has a baby that is ready for just us. I crawl back into bed, pretending my world hadn't just caved in around me, again. I lay my head on my pillow and allow myself to grieve for the loss of what was never there, knowing tomorrow I must put on a smile and live like it never happened. I think to myself, there's always next month while I try not to let self doubt creep in. Thanks for letting me vent.