No, I haven’t tested. Not since I told the hubs I wouldn’t – on Monday. I’ve been doing really well – both yesterday and today. Anyone that asked, online or IRL, I would tell them that I won’t find out until next week, but I don’t think it worked. At some point, I started questioning why I’m fine, how am I handling this so well? I’m not upset, I’m not even sad, or anything! I don’t get it!
And then, finally, I sat down and thought about it. And realized that sometime between Monday night and now, I changed my mind. I have hope again. I’m not upset, because I think I’m pregnant. I think this worked – I feel these embryos inside of me, and I’m looking forward to the beta so I can confirm that I’m pregnant.
This is not what I needed – I shouldn’t have hope. I know the stats, and I know the likelihood of getting a negative on 13 days past retrieval and still being pregnant are slim. But there’s hope!!! And stupid, silly me… I’m hoping. And setting myself up for disappointment…again.
I have a plan. I’m going to test on Friday. With a FRER. I told the hubs I was going to do it. I’ll be 17 days past retrieval, and 12 days past transfer. It will be effective, right? And if it’s negative, I’m going to call it. I’m just going to accept whatever it says. And I will be having a drink on Christmas Eve if it’s negative. Not because I really need one, but in my mind, that’s the truest form of accepting it’s negative. I’ll have a caffeinated latte in the morning, and wine in the evening – all my forbidden splurges…