This two week wait has been maddening. I feel like I'm on a tilt-a-whirl: up, down, sidewise, back, and forth, and with a huge mechanical jolt every time the ride changes direction.
Yesterday I woke up convinced there is no way I'm pregnant and went to bed convinced that I am. I can't put much stock in intuition, because I "felt" I was pregnant during all six of our previous failed cycles last spring and summer, so I'm clearly not the best judge. A huge temp drop (of one full degree) this morning at 7 dpo has also messed with my head: maybe it's implantation; but I had drops like that in other failed cycles; maybe I now have a luteal phase defect and I'm going to get my period tomorrow; maybe I'll never ever get pregnant again.
Today was my last day temping until AF. I don't need the fodder for senseless analysis.
And I'm going to spend the rest of the 2ww blogging about other things than my imaginary symptoms, issues I've been considering these past months and need to share. I'm going to try to stop mashing my breasts to check or "tenderness" every four minutes and eating mac n cheese every three days in an effort to "prove" that I'm ravenous. I won't test before 15 dpo, which is a week from Tuesday. I'll most likely get my period between Saturday and Monday.
I know I've got a good shot this month-- well-timed sex and a strong ovulation. But I also know that even the most fertile couples are lucky (incredibly lucky!) to conceive their first time trying. And forgive me for my cynicism, but luck hasn't been much of a companion on this trip thus far.
One week to go. Or less.
Reinvention of a blog
6 months ago