Technically we weren't even trying, so it shouldn't be such a disappointment.
I always said I didn't want another January baby, so I should be relieved.
Those feelings of nausea, perhaps caused by inadequate breakfast. Or a lack of sleep.
All those strange sensations inside were just a figment of my imagination. Or last night's dinner.
Perhaps it's ironic that I found out on Mothers Day that I wasn't pregnant, though I had strongly suspected (and hoped?) that I was. I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn't a little sad.
I thought I knew my body well, I thought I could read the signs. However it turns out my body wants this just as much as I do, and is prepared to falsify evidence.
It seems to me that positive feelings, such as excitement, are usually caused by a positive and actual event. The receipt of a gift, the witnessing of something joyful. Yet the negative feelings, such as disappointment are caused by the absence of these events.
They are marked by a deficiency, an emptiness. Or a lonely, single blue line.