Well, friends. I have a confession. I have fallen off the wagon. As much as I convinced myself I would NOT pee on a stick, I succumbed to my terrible addiction. I promised myself I would not pee on a stick during my two week wait. Alas, this morning I
found searched fervently through every nook and cranny of my home and found a digital first response test hiding in the back of our guest bathroom cabinet. The shiny white foil wrapper stared back at me with false promises of anxiety alleviation and the hope of an eased mind. “Just pee on this stick, Katie. You’ll feel so much better” – the crinkles of the foil whispered as I maniacally reached for and ripped open the packaging and raced to the master bathroom where my trusty pee cup was. After all, I hadn’t yet relieved my bladder this morning.
All the signs have been good. I haven’t had any bleeding. I’m incredibly bloated, real pants have been a struggle. The buttons of jeans strain against my ever inflating abdomen as the progesterone shots make all intestinal movements slow to speeds reached only by molasses in December. The fatigue and mental fog is sensational. I barely make it in the door after work before I hurriedly remove the offending real pants after work and crash on the couch for a power nap so I have enough energy to eat, take my meds and go to sleep for real each night. I. Smell. Everything. Ripe garbage that was taken out of the house that morning? The stench still lingers for my nostrils to flare at that evening. I have even been waking up with a slight congestion every morning which can indicate proper implantation.
Still, I don’t actually know. Like Jon Snow, I know nothing. And the waiting is excruciating. I have tried to maintain a routine and to stay busy without over taxing myself but, I am still waiting. Remember how I said patience is not something I possess in abundance? It’s so relevant now. You have to have so much patience and so much chill to not let anxiety run wild during this time. As much as I practice these things, I just don’t have it down perfectly. And to anyone that may be thinking, well you’re going to have to wait a lot longer than 2 weeks to meet your baby if you are pregnant – I can’t describe to you how different that type of waiting is. This time, two weeks from now, I’ll know if our transfer was successful. We will still have some hills to climb in maintaining that pregnancy, but I’ll have so much work to do. Because taking it easy, that’s work for me. Eating well and preparing for a child in our home – work. Going for a million ultrasounds and blood tests and doing everything I can to get to viability outside my body – HARD work. And I will know that the baby is even there. Growing. Developing. Existing. Right now, all of those glorious symptoms I’ve shared with you, they might only be side effects from the medication I’m taking. And I will have no idea until I get that BFP (Big Fat Positive)… or that BFN.
So, I fell off the wagon. At this point, a negative at home pregnancy test means nothing. There may not be enough hCG in my system to detect even if #MilliKid2 did implant. If it’s positive, that’s definitely a good sign. But, I’m a whole trimester away from breathing a sigh of relief that this is really happening. I am so hungry and desperate for hope that one good result will satiate me for just a few days, or a week.. I don’t know. As I stared at that test fresh from the wrapper, I was at least comforted that i wasn’t so desperate that I went out and purchased it that same morning, it was merely found, forgotten in the back of a cabinet. Of course, I still frantically searched for the last vestiges of sticks to pee on in my house for a solid 20 mins prior to finding it, but I digress. The universe is a funny place. And I do try to take every opportunity to learn from my experiences.
I had the unique opportunity to learn this fine Sunday morning that solace is not found in worldly things. And that if you can’t learn to laugh at yourself, you will only cry. And that often times, the best things come to those who wait – even if you do it kicking and screaming all while trying to buck the system. Also, I learned (again) something I already knew. Digital tests are GARBAGE. Seriously, if you’re thinking about getting into peeing on sticks as much as I have, only buy the pack of 100 super cheap slivers of paper that use pink dye. That digital stick I peed on this morning – it was a dud. The little timer emblem forever emblazoned on its tiny screen. Despite the several hundred times I looked at it. Despite the ferocious beating and shaking I applied to it. It would not even budge after I mustered up enough fluids to pee on it a second time, waited five more minutes and then furiously threw it in the trash – again.
So, today I will laugh. And learn. And continue this arduous waiting period. Hopefully this will prevent Tim from scheduling my intervention, but I’m not sure about that. And I’m am certain there are no more errant sticks to pee on in my house. Or car. And I will report dutifully for the blood test I’ve already paid for at the clinic. And I will remain hopeful. Hopeful that my stress and anxiety remains as manageable as possible and that there is new life growing within me.