28-31 days. 1 month. a single cycle. that’s all you get it. the one chance to finally make it happen, to finally have that baby.

my husband and I have gotten into a routine for the monthly visits to our RE when he also needs to be present. it’s comforting, yet equally depressing to know the ins and out of where we need to be, what we need to do while we’re there. the more familiar we are, the more it just means that every previous cycle and attempt was unsuccessful.

last month, we went to the main hospital to have breakfast while we waited to be called back, as we’ve done already a handful of times before. we sit at the same table, we eat the same things. we joke about how, if we break from our routine, maybe that was the missing link to why we haven’t gotten pregnant yet. “the last times we’ve been here, it’s been raining. today it’s sunny. THAT’S what has been missing.” we laugh. we hope.

so, on this morning my husband also got a hard boiled egg. and that was different. as I took this picture, we proceeded to think of melodramatic titles for what this image represents and symbolizes in the infertility world. and we laughed, because, more often than not, humor is the only way to deal with the frustration and sadness that surrounds all of this.

but today, a few weeks later, as the blood test comes back yet again as negative- it’s hard for me to see the humor I once saw in this image. because, for today at least, I feel like this image. I feel broken. I feel frustrated, and angry, and sad.

I texted a girlfriend earlier, and her response was, “well, I guess that golden egg is still cooking in there!” which is what reminded me of this photo I took.

so today I feel like a broken egg. but tomorrow, we start again. another cycle. another chance. another 28-31 days.

just one golden egg, that’s all you need. and I’m waiting for it.