I realized the other day that I was late… really late. About three weeks late. Which probably explains the white rabbit. But after stewing about the ‘what ifs’ for a couple of days I thought I better do the test even though the odds were positively miniscule. Test was negative…. luckily because I can not even begin to imagine what the effects of all the drugs I’ve taking would be.
I can’t believe how ridiculous life can become – so many times I got to the end of an IVF cycle and had to do the little test, my hopes all hinging on that second little line appearing. But it never did.,,, and I wanted it… I really really wanted that second little pink line so bad. I went through so much pain and bullshit trying to get that second little pink line to appear.
Yet today… it was the last thing I wanted.
Actually. No. That’s not entirely true. If I am honest with myself I have to admit that part of me was still desperately wishing for that second pink line. Had the result been positive I would have been very worried about the medications, but I also know that I would have been overjoyed at the prospect. Such an emotional minefield and I feel completely conflicted about it.
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