I awoke on Wednesday feeling sad but ready to make a fresh start. I did 4 1/2 miles on the treadmill (something I hadn't done regularly in awhile, due to swollen ovaries and overall laziness) and recommitted myself to Weight Watchers (I had fallen into the 'I'f I'm Pregnant A Few Extra Reeses Easter Eggs Won't Matter To My Waistline Anyway' mentality in recent weeks, and fallen off the portion-control wagon).
I decided that if I wasn't pregnant, there was a reason. God doesn't make mistakes and always has a plan. I figure that I should be working on myself to make my body the best possible home for child. It gave me a new-found sense of purpose.
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