I stare up at the ceiling as I wait for the five minutes to pass. The only sounds are our breathing and the tapping of your foot against the floor. The pregnancy test is facing down so we can't see the result until we turn it over. It's the twelfth test we've taken in two months. Our hope is slowly fading.

We got married two years ago, right after the band went on hiatus. We decided to take advantage of our first few years of marriage by traveling and such, and now we're ready to start our family. But it's costing us more than we expected. I hate seeing your sad face every time the test comes back negative. I hate thinking that I can't bear you a child, and I hate thinking that you think that.

My phone alarm goes off, and I look down at the test, then back at you. "Are you ready?" I take your hand, giving it a small squeeze, and you nod slightly. "Do you want to record the reaction in case it comes out positive?"

You shake your head. "No... just... turn it around, I can't wait any longer."

I let out a slight sigh and take the test in my hands. I count to three in my head and then turn it over.

Not pregnant.

Once again, my heart breaks a little bit, and as I turn my head toward you, I see tears already running down your cheeks.

"Hey... hey, look at me... it's okay, okay? We're going to try again, again and again until we get the damn positive, okay?" I wipe your tears with my thumbs.