Holding her head between her hands :
It’s easy to speak about what doesn’t touch, and to write about what doesn’t scar.
Not long ago I was yet ignorant of these wicked abbreviations, their meanings, and the harsh reality they were soon to impose upon my own fragile existence.
Unable to stand the two weeks of solitary unknowing obsession, I’ve scoured fertility forums for proof that I might be able to test early, for proof that it would show a hopeful sign, that I might explain away the crampy achiness that had followed my abdomen through the week after the insemination. I found 99 posts warning about ‘false negatives’ when testing early, and one that said it was possible to have a correct result after day ten. I was on day nine, and decided to trick my body into believing that ten (or fourteen?) had passed. I decided to believe the one that said it was okay to test. I bought one and hid it in my sac, hid it from Manboy.
I could not wait. That evening, alone, sitting on the bathroom floor with my back propped against the door I waited, squintingly, trying to will a second pink line into existence where the white square stood, mocking me with it’s emptiness.
Anyway, the 99 others who posted said it would be too early to tell. I chose now to believe them instead.
Hearing Manboy’s footsteps ascending the stairwell, I shamefully scurried, and carefully hid the discarded test at the bottom of the trash. Tomorrow is the day that I was ‘authorized’ to test. One was purchased on the way home from work this evening. Over dinner Manboy and I discussed what not ‘feeling pregnant’ means and why I’ve been wound up like a ball of string. I teetered back and forth, between emotions bursting in whirling directions and cramming it all down inside, wanting to spare him, wanting to share it with him, wanting to be close and together, wanting to preserve the distance needed to survive.
(I must go now. these is a very small dog licking the inside of my right nostril.)
I hear you. I have been there. I’m so sorry that this is so hard for you. Cuddle your Manboy and your Yuki and test tomorrow.
Hoping for sticky eggs tomorrow!
We should invest in pregnancy tests. I can’t remember how many I took…by myself..that I then hid deep in the trash can and never talked about.
I’m holding my breath for you. Come on PINK LINES!
I’m with you all the way. I know that secret testing and then stuffing any evidence to the bottom of the barrel and then trying to do the same with your emotions. I’ve obsessivly looked at other people’s temp charts to see when exactly they got a positive and MOST ALL OF THEM did not get a positive on the 9th day. I’m crossing my fingers for tomorrow!
Oh, I remember the covert ops of way-too-early pregnancy testing… good times, good times.
Try not to make yourself too crazy. I know how bonkers staring at those little test windows praying for pink lines can make a girl. May your pink lines be plentiful and undeniable!
I’m sorry that the waiting, the not knowing, is so agonizing. I wish you nothing but the best results possible.
I’m praying for you, and hope you have excellent news just in time for Christmas.
I feel like we are the goblins at the beginning of the Labyrinth movie..waiting for the girl to say the magic words. All watching..holding our breath.
Sitting on the floor trying to wish a second line into existance is the worst feeling ever.
Sending sticky thoughts your way for tomorrow.
I’m all impatient, any luck yet? *hoping hard for you*
I’m not sure what to say, I wish, I hope, I pray? Just thinking of you.