I want a baby. I want that little human to love and hold. When my husband and I decided to start TTC (that’s the first term you learn: Trying To Conceive), I thought it would be a simple, beautiful, natural step.
Instead, this first month trying to conceive felt like plunging into a confusing, overwhelming ocean of hope, panic, and self-doubt. If you’re also just starting this journey, please know this: the chaos in your head is completely normal, and you are not alone in the depths of this feeling.
Disclaimer
Please Note: I am not a doctor or a fertility expert. This post is a personal, unfiltered account of my own emotional journey. Always consult with a qualified medical professional for health advice and diagnoses.
The Crash Course: From Clueless to Tracking
We started out completely innocent. We tried once, then once more, totally focused on the intimacy, not the timing. I had no clue about the importance of the fertile window—that small, powerful slice of time each month when your body is actually ready to conceive. I learned pretty quickly that there was a scheduled, high-pressure time I had to hit, and the spontaneity vanished.
The next thing you know, I was glued to the apps. My phone became a mandatory fertility science lab. The simple, beautiful hope was instantly replaced by a frantic, consuming desire to control the process. I was desperate to find a pattern, a prediction, anything to tell me I was doing it right, even though I knew the human body doesn’t work on a spreadsheet.
Living in the Spiral of Symptom Spotting
This is the part that truly breaks your brain. The minute we finished trying, the Two-Week Wait (TWW) started—that is the agonizing period between when you ovulate and when you expect your period. It felt like the longest stretch of my entire life. Every single day was an emotional marathon.
I swear, just one week after we had unprotected sex, my body started sending me messages. A strange, pin-prick twinge low in my side. A sudden wave of exhaustion that hit me so hard I thought I might fall asleep standing up. I knew, rationally, it was far too early for very early signs of pregnancy, but my heart instantly whispered, “This is it. This has to be the sign.”
Every single ache, every strange flutter, became a potential symptom. I was lost in the depths of Reddit threads and TikTok videos, constantly searching things like “4 DPO nausea” or “early pregnancy symptoms 1 week DPO.” My search history was an embarrassing testament to my escalating anxiety. I even started taking my temperature every morning again, analyzing the fraction of a degree, trying to piece together a puzzle that simply wasn’t finished yet. The TWW anxiety felt physical; I was genuinely exhausted just from the relentless mental cycle of hoping, searching, and doubting myself every single hour. I was living inside my head, and it was a terrible place to be.
The Cruelest Denial: Implantation Bleeding Hope
My desperation led to testing early, of course. Those little plastic sticks became instruments of torture. Two weeks in, the stark negative sign was brutal. I just couldn’t accept it. I held the test up to the light, took it apart, and searched for a phantom line, telling myself, The hormones are too low. I must have tested too soon. I’m an outlier!
Then, I entered the world of the vaginal discharge obsession. I checked constantly, convinced that a change in moisture or texture was the secret clue I needed. Our brains will do anything to maintain hope when the stakes feel this high.
The ultimate mind game came at the very end. I saw a tiny bit of blood when I wiped. My heart soared! “Implantation Bleeding!”—the term for when the fertilized egg settles into the uterine lining. I was convinced. I spent hours finding articles and photos that described my exact “spotting.” For a glorious, tear-filled few hours, I was pregnant in my mind. That certainty, that beautiful future, was palpable.
But then, the cramps hit. They were strong, they were deep, and they were heartbreakingly familiar. I knew it was my period, but I was in total, frantic denial. I fought the truth until the very last moment, searching things like, “Can you have strong cramps with implantation bleeding?” I clung to that beautiful lie until the undeniable flow arrived this morning.
It hurts. It feels like a genuine, crushing loss, even though it’s only Month One of TTC. The tears are dry now, and the desire for that little human is only deeper. We pick ourselves up and start over.
Let’s Connect:
If you’ve been here, what was the most ridiculous, tiny thing you absolutely convinced yourself was a pregnancy symptom during your own TWW? I need to know I’m not the only one who did that!
