Cycle one has ended, and I’m not pregnant.
It was a tumultuous two week wait, because I’ve been through the emotional wringer with changes to my medication. I’ve been tired, teary, irritable, melancholy, and restless, and I’ve not a lot of perspective on how much of that might be to do with hormones. It would have been nice if it had been. If you’re going to feel that rubbish you’d like to think there’s some purpose behind it.
I wanted to believe I was pregnant, so I started testing early. Too early, of course, but it’s easier to pee on a stick and get a definite negative result than it is to stay up all night wondering.
And how very hard I stared at that blank window in each test, convincing myself that I maybe sort of saw the faintest line. It’s amazing what you can convince yourself of when you tilt your head and squint.
But yesterday I got final confirmation (along with a migraine, a cold sore, and some epic cramps), so it’s time to start planning for cycle two.
We’re going to catch that stork.