So, today is Valentine's Day and - as Wet Wet Wet reminded us for 15 long weeks in 1994 - love is all around. Except I'm not feeling much love today.
My lady is due on Thursday (three days away) so I decided to take a pregnancy test when I woke up this morning - partly spurred on by superstition, as I dreamt last night I took two tests which showed as I was pregnant (it was my second best dream, after the dream where I got the job reading the football results on Match of the Day!), and as I thought it might be nice Valentine's news for the Boy if it came back positive. But the single horizontal line let me know that it wasn't to be. This time.
I'm trying not to be too disappointed, I know it's important to stay happy, relaxed and positive. This was the first month I'd worked out what dates were best for us for 'baby dancing' (new phrase I have learnt reading parenting chat boards!) so it was a bit much for me to expect it would work that quickly. But I am a little sad. I think last week's nausea had given me some false hope that 'we' might be about to become 'three'.
The Boy and I talked about it snuggled in bed this morning after we'd exchanged our Valentine's cards. He had hoped for the same result as me, and the good thing we can take from this is the genuine disappointment we've had so far that we've not been successful in getting pregnant. If we'd had any doubt we want to extend our family, then this morning has put paid to that.
So, for now, we content ourselves with having each other and in that we are more blessed than many. The Boy is a fabulous partner in every way and I'm so lucky I get to be with my best friend, my lover, and the funniest man I've ever met. And we get to enjoy the roller coaster all over again over the next month. Might even get cracking tonight - I read in one of the more salubrious red tops that if you conceive today you're in with a shout of having your baby on 11-11-11, that's got to be worth a try!