Last night I went to the restroom and looked at the paper like I always do around what could be implantation time and I saw it. Beautiful pale pink spots. I gasped and my heart was absolutely soaring. A glimmer of hope after my first fertility appointment where the words “well, since you are 39 and have been trying for six months, you are technically considered infertile” were pierced through my heart. Today I woke up early to sneak to cvs to buy some early detection tests, and there it was. My period 4 days early. I’m not numb to the disappointment yet, but this one hurt so much worse. For a fleeting moment I got to feel the rush of excitement and love that all these other beautiful women have felt. I really hope my time comes, but it’s hard. How long can you keep ripping your heart open every month? Sorry. Currently on the couch trying not to feel so very alone.