It may be hard to believe
But trying to conceive
Is not all fun and games
And picking baby names
Temps and charts and sticks
And HOPING you'll be sick
Because that would be a sign
Just like two pink lines
Obsessing over every pain
Wondering if you're still sane
All your sex is on demand
Right now, romance be damned
Every negative rips you apart
Anther month, another broken heart
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