It never seems to fail with me, after being married for 11 years and having never used any birth control, having received a diagnosis of male infertility due to unexplained azoospermia and having to use donor sperm to create our family I still find myself looking at the calendar every month wondering if some how by magic I will have gotten pregnant the good old fashioned way by my husbands sperm.
I play this torturous mind game with myself, I think maybe I am pregnant, i do a detailed analysis of every phantom symptom I have. I further twist the knife in my heart by wondering if it will be a boy or a girl, what names would we pick, would we have to move or add onto our house to make room for another child. I do this month after month, and the inevitable always happens. Auntie flow shows up with the bad but predictable news that “NO you are not pregnant you silly girl, your husband is infertile and it isn’t going to happen that way”.
I hate her, my auntie flow. Hate her because she comes to me every month with the bloody reminder that I will never have a biological child with the man I dearly love. And stupid, desperate me looks in the mirror at myself every time she is here for her visit and says, “maybe next month!”