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Let’s talk testing

26 Jul

Every infertile knows the dilemma well: to test or not to test?

Likewise, most of us have our own policies on the matter. Some of us are obsessed with peeing on sticks. I used to be pretty into it myself, in my early days of TTC. But despite the fact that I have three tattoos (including one on my head!), I’m actually not a fan of self torture. Time after time of seeing those snowy white BFNs left me jaded.

Like really though, so jaded that a part of me really believes that the very act of taking a HPT will make me not pregnant (because of course it will be negative, it always is, and once you get a BFN, you’re not so likely to get a BFP, so therefore you’re not pregnant and it’s over).

Crazy, I know.

That said, I don’t judge others who test early and often. In fact, as a blog reader, it’s much more interesting than those of us who prefer to wait. I wish I could provide you, dear readers, with that sort of entertainment but unfortunately, I just can’t.

This is all to say though, I have been tempted of late. Why? I’m feeling things. Twinges, fullness, cramps. A brief wave of light nausea before lunch today. Weepiness like whoa. I cried this morning while listening to a This American Life episode about amusement parks. Amusement parks! It wasn’t even sad crying. I was just so touched by how happy the people sounded. And I’ve been up like clockwork every night to pee, even though before my retrieval, I never peed during the night.

Every single one of these things can be explained away by the progesterone, by the side effects of my stimulation and the retrieval. By my general emotional state. But still I have this firm little bubble of liquid hope stubbornly lodged in my chest that refuses to budge, despite any measure of “logic.”

I whispered to DH after my first PEO shot last night (which went well, BTW! We put an ice pack on the area beforehand so I literally felt NOTHING when the needle went in!) that I think this is going to work. Me too, he said.

The idea that you’d rather find out on your own terms, when and where you want (preferably in the privacy of your own home), I totally get and agree with. And I’m also tempted by the fact that DH will be out of town when the results come in. Hypothetically, we could test together on Sunday morning (at 8dp5dt) before my parents come.

But see, testing scares me shitless. I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to get murky results and worry. I’d rather know my blood test was negative than see a BFN because at least then I won’t wonder.

So yeah, I’m kind of torn. But I’m leaning toward waiting. I don’t have any HPTs in my house so it would take a lot for me to run out and spend the money on one.

What do you think? What’s your general policy on testing? 

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Down.

25 Apr

There wasn’t enough time this morning. My feet got me out of bed 15 minutes too late, nothing in my closet appealed to me, the dog didn’t want to take her pill, I had to eat breakfast in the car (a banana and a blueberry muffin Lara bar, both of which tasted strange to me), traffic was the usual nightmare, etc. etc. etc. Everything feels heavy. I hate the music that’s playing in our office today.

I’m getting my tattoo touched up tonight. And by touched up, I mean please god change it completely or magically remove it because how did it end up looking so jacked up. Oh I know, the “artist” was a dick nozzle who was too lazy or proud to re-place the stencil properly so it ended up looking like a muddied mess from which he was magically supposed to divine these two birds. These two little flying bird silhouettes behind my ear that were supposed to represent our two losses. And ironically, just like them, they’ve become this bitter pill to swallow. Something I have to accept even though it’s ugly.

Except I wanted them to be pretty and light, like they could never be in this life.

So there’s that. I’m nervous and anxious about going under the needle again. Terrified this new artist will somehow make them look worse. Though how they can possible look worse, I don’t know. And I hope to never find out.

My temp was still down this morning. Who knows what’s going on with all those pretty little eggs we had over the weekend. Maybe they’re rotten now. Maybe that’s what’s really got me down.

I hate charting, I hate temping, I hate how it dictates my mood for the rest of the day. And this is probably never going to happen for us. And if that’s true, I honestly don’t know what the purpose of me is.