I’m soliciting prayer.

That picture was Day 51 of 2009. I went to the doctor that day and we determined for certain that I am not, in fact, pregnant.

About mid-December, Husband and I decided that we could be ready for a baby. The finances don’t exist, but I hear that’s generally the case. I’m more worried about the time that I don’t have for a baby, but – although I’ve never heard that strain of advice – I assume it’s the same kind of idea. And he’s 30 for goodness’ sake.

So about mid-December I stopped taking birth control. For the next two months it was obvious that either something was wrong, or I was pregnant. You know what I mean.

At my annual check-up, the nurse asked if I’d like her to do a pregnancy test. I said sure, and got to pee in a cup. (Apparently I did a really good job too, ’cause when I opened the door she went, “Wow! That was fast!” What can I say? I pee-in-a-cup like a champ.)

The doctor came in five minutes later (’cause they figure five minutes is plenty of time to don the always-in-season paper apron) and told me no.

I wasn’t heartbroken, but I wasn’t relieved either. Especially because ruling out “pregnant” left us with “something’s wrong.” She said it’s not unusual that my body would have to adjust to suddenly having to produce it’s own hormones, especially considering I was never very good at it to begin with. She gave me three months, and said if nothing changes I need to start taking something to fix me.

I really don’t want to take anything. I dig doctors and I’m not one of those people who rejects medication. But I do believe God heals His people, and I’d just rather go that route. So tomorrow is the end of the first month of eating better and praying. We’ll know tomorrow if I’m fixed yet.

So if you think about it in the next couple months, I’d take a prayer. The future Baby ‘Sniewski thanks you.