the tragedy of an addiction to POAS.

Let me start by saying that I know I'm crazy. I know this. I've never said anything different.

I bought one final box of FRER. I ordered it from Amazon, the day of my strong beta, when I used my last one. It arrived on Thursday and come Friday morning, I peed on it. Well, peed into the cup and dipped it, but you get my drift.

It looked very similar to the last one I'd taken, three days prior. Too similar. I had a moment of OH SHIT, IT'S OVER, I'M NOT DOUBLING PROPERLY. This was compounded by the smidge of brown-tinged cervical mucus I saw when I wiped. When I say smidge, I mean it was the width of the tip of a Sharpie marker. Seriously small. But it was enough to make my stomach clench.

I spent the day busy at an offsite meeting for work. When I did think about the tinge of cervical mucus or the FRER that seemingly stopped darkening, I tried to tell myself that I could be panicking over nothing. For one thing, my cramps were of the implantation variety, coupled with the pressure above my groin. I had heartburn like a mofo. My nips were super sensitive. Etc. I yelled at myself for peeing on something and ending what had been three solid days of Nofreakout. For an anxiety-ridden person like myself, three days of Nofreakout is a big deal. So, why did I have to ruin it? Why couldn't I just revel in the land of Nofreakout? 

When I came home I posted to another super-secret Facebook group that's focused on infertility and anxiety/depression. I confessed what I'd done and was instantly reassured by the Captain, a veteran of infertility and embryo adoption who is always there for someone in need. She'd been in the same place I was - knowing she was pregnant but still POAS for reassurance. Like me, there was a time a few weeks in where she thought if she took a test, the test line would be strong enough to steal all of the dye from the control line. Like me, she didn't get a test like that, and like me, she too thought it was over. (It wasn't. In fact, that's the cycle that gave her and her husband their precious daughter.)

The Captain told me to stop peeing on things. The tests can mess with your head. I knew she was right, but it was kind of like when you know you want to start eating healthy but have a full box of Oreos in the cabinet. You can either throw them away, give them to someone else, or hurry up and eat them to get them out of the house so you aren't tempted anymore. 

I'm sure you can guess which option I typically choose.

So, yes. At 5 p.m. to peed in a cup and dipped the FRER and was surprised and relieved to see that the test line did indeed steal almost all of the dye from the control line, even after I'd been pounding water all day.

The one on the top is with FMU. The one on the bottom was taken with diluted pee late in the afternoon.

Here's what I think: I think my hCG levels have gotten to that weird point where the chemical sensors are getting confused. So really diluted urine gave me what I was looking for, but concentrated urine did not.

I have one FRER left. I'm not going to use it. I've decided I'm going to hold on to it to remind me that I need to STOP PEEING ON THINGS. Today, I am pregnant. Nothing has happened that would lead me to believe that this pregnancy is doomed like the last one. I need to stop looking for tragedy where none has occurred.

The only real tragedy is my POAS addiction. It ends up adding to my fear and robbing me of my joy. So, I'm stepping away from the sticks. 

I'm ready to move on.

moment of truth.

I was probably more nervous about this morning's FRER than I have been about almost anything so far post-transfer. In part, because Kyla at Three Quarters Full posted a picture of her FRER yesterday, when she had a beta of 679. Literally ONE point from where I need to be in order to be doubling appropriately.

Now, I know all pee sticks are different, even from the same brand. But it's kind of like when you're making a recipe - you know your dish won't turn out EXACTLY like the picture, but you want it to look pretty close.

So I dipped the FRER and right away the test line was screaming red, even before anything hit the control line. I exhaled a little. Ten minutes later, I could see that the test line was brick red, super-dark, and the control line looked smudgey, and had more of a cherry color.

I took the stick back to my desk to look at Kyla's again. It's very close. If anything, my test line might be a little darker and my control line a little lighter. Obviously I can't look at two lines on a stick and translate that into a specific beta, but I went back and looked at the pictures from last cycle. I know that my beta was 508 on 12dp5dt and 1461 at 19dp5dt. I didn't take a test at 19dp5dt last cycle, because I'd moved on to every other day, but I did take one at 18dp5dt, and it looks similar to the one I took today.

Ergo, I do not think I will get a nasty surprise at today's beta. I think I will be scheduling my first ultrasound for next week.

In other news, Precious Pup needs to go back to the vet due to a small, smooth cyst on his front right paw that he keeps chewing at. This in addition to the fun post-op stuff he's still got going on. My poor little furbaby. I just want him to be healthy and happy for a few more years. Ideally five or six. I don't mean to be greedy but this dog is my heart. This morning, I woke up with him tucked between Mr. Hope and me, and he had one paw draped over my arm, NBD. It was the cutest thing.

And remember how my car totally crapped out at Posh Clinic on Friday? The repairs were going to run us a whopping $2,000. Not cool, car. I asked about a trade-in value and the dealership offered us a decent one. We'd still owe on the loan but if I put the money I would've spent in repairs on the loan instead, it doesn't leave all that much to roll over into a new loan. It's kind of like buying a car without a down payment. Another option is a short-term lease, like a year, just to get us out of the money pit. We're going back tonight to get me into something.

I'd taken today off from work thinking it would give me time to catch up on some things, but the universe has totally conspired against me. Now I'm leaving the house at my normal time, only it's to get Mr. Hope to work so that I can have the car today. Then it's the long drive to Posh Clinic for my third (and hopefully last!) beta, then back home to pick up PP for his vet appointment. Then I've got to get PP home and might have an hour before I have to leave to go get Mr. Hope so that we can go to the accountant's together to get our taxes done. Not sure how long that's going to take, but we'll need to grab at least a snack before we go to the car dealership because they never get you out in less than 2.5 to 3 hours.

Even so, I'll try to find a few minutes later today to update after I get my beta results. They usually don't call until the afternoon, but that should be between the vet appointment and the tax appointment. Fingers crossed!

all the small things.

Still peeing on things. Of course I am. This is only my second pregnancy and #1 didn't end so well. I capitulate. I am powerless over my need to pee on things. So, I do.

But today was the tipping point. The test line got darker than the control line. This is what I love. I love watching the progression, and I love it when there's so much hCG in my system that the test line sucks up all the dye. 

I am sick. I know this. 

I am okay with it.

Finally broke out my remaining Clearblue Digital. Pregnant 2-3, it tells me. I'm glad I waited. Last time it was Pregnant 1-2. At least it's something new.

WHO AM I? Seriously. Sick.

Last night, even before the PIO shot, my boobs were really tender and my nips hypersensitive. Y'all know how I love my symptoms. There's still a little light cramping and pressure over my groin area. That's my big "tell." The chin zits are gone but that's one symptom I don't mind seeing go away. 

Last night Mr. Hope and I went out to dinner with Fig and her husband. It was the first time our spouses had met. Double dating with other couples is a new thing for Mr. Hope and me. But we like it. It's nice for Mr. Hope to socialize with people who aren't on their computers. Plus, it's always nice to have an excuse to put on a skirt and go out to dinner. We are such homebodies, Mr. Hope and I. 

So we went out to dinner at a restaurant I love and had this amazing meal and good conversation and lots of laughs, and then I came home and got shot up with progesterone and passed out on the couch within the hour. Such is my glamorous life.

I am doing a decent job of not obsessing about the pregnancy. But last night, before I crashed out on the couch, I had this weird compulsion to Google "miscarriage 8 weeks." A lot of women post pictures of their miscarriage. I was horrified when I stared my own miscarriage in the face, but for whatever reason I find this odd comfort in looking at pictures of these tiny, gummy bear-shaped embryos. It's only the second time I've done this - looked at those pictures - and I know I should be horrified and want to look away but I don't. Is this acceptance? I can't explain it.

What I do know is that I was looking at these pictures on my iPad when Mr. Hope was in the bathroom, and when he came out I closed my browser window faster than if I'd been looking at porn. So there must be some shame there on my part. Right? Something to discuss with Quirky when I see her next.

two months and four weeks.

Two months ago today, I miscarried Nugget. Her heart had stopped a little over a week before this, or so we're guessing. The violent way in which the miscarriage happened has scarred me in ways I can't even begin to articulate. When I think about what happened, the scenes play out in my head like something from a movie. Once you see it, it can't be unseen.

Today, I am four weeks pregnant. At 9dp5dt and using the new, non-bobo box of FRER tests, I am getting a strong pinkish-red line. A line that comes up immediately, even before the dye has reached the control line. I don't even have to hold my breath; it's just there.

Yesterday there were cramps - the good kind. I had these with Nugget; they were lingering implantation cramps as she continued to snuggle in. I like having cramps. I would kill to get morning sickness. I rejoice when my boobs are tender. I don't even mind the ugly chin zits. These signs that I am still pregnant - that there is a tiny life or lives growing inside of me - I need these things. They help keep the crazy at bay.

Can we talk about that for a second? Not my crazy, but the one or two tiny lives thing. I have always said I'd be okay with one. I was an only child. As a kid I wished I'd had a sibling - a built-in playmate - but you know, I turned out okayish nonethless. Financially, one is easier to handle. Space-wise, one is better. Stress-wise, one is probably more ideal.

But.

I often joke that the Holy Grail of the IF world is boy/girl twins. It's like the fertility jackpot. An insta-family. Twins would scare me on several different levels, not the least of which is the toll they'd take on my body. But I would be lying if I didn't say that sometimes Mr. Hope and I fantasize about the B/G twins scenario.

FETs are notorious for being slow starters, yet I got my first positive pee stick at 5dp5dt, a full day earlier than I did last time. I got a shadowy squinter the day before that. So I was kind of hoping this might mean twins. My beta of 35 points more toward singleton, though.

Honestly? Just one would be fine. One healthy little take-home baby.

There are so many hurdles left to clear. The next is my second beta tomorrow. Then I will likely be back at the clinic on Monday or Tuesday for another blood draw. Then it's the first ultrasound, then the second, and so on, and so forth.

For now, I'm trying to take it one day at a time.

eff you, FRER!

This morning's test was definitely lighter than yesterday's. Like, by a lot.

I told Mr. Hope that it was lighter and said, "Looks like it's a chemical." Then we hugged in the kitchen and I said, "I can't believe we have to start over again." Starting over means working with the UnproRepro to find new embies. Will we have to tweak the protocol? Should we? Why is my progesterone so low?

Etc.

Something niggled at my brain, though. What if it had been a bad box? What if the issue wasn't what was growing inside of me, but the test itself?

Yes, FRER tests are expensive. My sanity is worth more. I broke into box number three and dipped. Within two minutes, it was already darker than yesterday's test. Here, take a look:

This is the three of them together. The top is from yesterday's box. The bottom is from the new box (my third box of FRER, if you're keeping track of those things). 

And, just for shits and giggles, here are the two test from today. It's worth noting that the bottom one is way wetter than the top one, and yet still significantly darker.

I'm totally going to email the company and see if I can get a free box of tests out of this. I mean, with all the money I've given them over the years, the least they can do is replace a clunker batch, right?

UPDATE, 3/26: I got an email back from Church & Dwight, the company that produces FRERs. They're refunding me for the bad box I got! Thumbs up to them for taking a loyal customer's complaint seriously.

out of my hands.

I feel a little sick.

Yesterday, I told Cycle Buddy, "I'm scared but also wondering if I just need to fake it until I make it. Like, instead of dreading miscarriage - which is what I did the first time around, even before my first bad beta - I'm going to operate under the assumption that this baby is going to make it. Or babies, as the case may be. (Could I be so lucky? I don't know)."

The answer? Not fucking likely. 

Full disclosure: Today's FRER is from a new box , which means a new dye lot. The control line on this one is way less vibrant of those from the last pack. But.

Today's line is lighter. And if not fully lighter, it's at the very least a similar intensity to the one I took yesterday. Definitely a lot lighter than my test from 7dp5dt last time around.

Even if they agree to do the beta draw today, I won't have definitive answers until I get the second beta drawn. With my work schedule, that won't be until Friday unless they let me get it drawn at a local lab.

Yesterday I actually felt pregnant. I was getting hot flashes at work. My energy level crashed around 2:30. I left work a full 15 minutes early so I could take a nap. I hardly ever leave work early. I almost never nap.

I dumped my FMU so that I couldn't waste another test from the other new box I have. I'll just have to wait until tomorrow, to see if another test from the same lot grows any darker.

This sucks on so many levels, I don't even have the words.

UPDATE: I may have been hasty. As the stick dries, the bottom one starts to get a wee bit darker. Not enough to make my racing heart slow, but enough that I don't feel a thousand percent doom and gloom right now.

Here's hoping they run my hCG today.

3w4d.

Went to bed earlier than usual last night. Kind of like a kid on Christmas Eve - "The earlier I go to bed, the quicker Santa can get here and bring me my presents!" Only in this case, the present would be a darker FRER (hopefully).

Seven and a half hours later, Santa came to town:

Yesterday's test was so light that I only texted pictures to three people: the BFF, Gumbo, and Cycle Buddy (the woman in my FB group who transferred the day before I did and is also pregnant). But today's was clear enough that I felt comfortable sharing it with a few of my IF friends, too.

It feels both real and not real. I have been "officially" pregnant for what? Two days? My mind runs through the possibilities. Chemical. Blighted ovum. Early miscarriage. Etc.

Tomorrow I have my mid-2WW hormone level check and I'm going to see if they'll run the first beta just so I don't have to be all panicky between now and next Monday, when my OTD is. My second pack of FRER arrived Saturday and I have a third on the way (don't judge). Even though I know I'll be peeing on things between now and then I still want to see a strong beta - and, more importantly - a properly doubling beta.

This is the next big hurdle. The first major milestone I missed last time around.

The good news is that I'm not really obsessing (yet). Yesterday I blew off half the stuff on my to-do list BUT it was so I could rest after a marathon grocery shopping session (three stores, all of which were jam-packed with people).

This, I suppose, is my top goal for the next few weeks. To take it easy. To rest when I need to. To not stress the eff out, no matter what else is going on in my life - including the looming deadline for my freelance project. Everything will get done when it gets done, and nothing is life or death except this baby burrowing in for what I hope will be a long, long haul.

the fertility detective.

I feel like I've spent the last 48 hours playing Agony Vagina, PI. Gathering evidence for my case to prove that yes, there is indeed a bun in my oven.

Exhibit A: Woke up yesterday with greasy hair. It usually takes four days of no shampooing to get hair that greasy. It had only been two.

Exhibit B: During my shower, I lost like four strands of hair vs. the normal small, rodent-sized clump I typically clear out of the drain. This happened when I was pregnant with Nugget, too.

Exhibit C: While I was watching TV with Mr. Hope yesterday, my head in his lap, I passed out cold in an instant. In the middle of the day. When I woke up, I didn't even realize I'd been a sleep until the plot of the show didn't make any sense. Time I'd been dozing? 34 minutes.

Et cetera.

I managed to stay busy most of the day. Busy is good. Busy keeps me from obsessing over symptoms that may or may not be there.

And then last night, the BFF came over for dinner and we talked until 1:30 in the morning. We talked about EVERYTHING - work, life, her kids, the kid I hope I'll one day have. The subject of fertility came into the conversation so many times, in so many different ways. Like, we started talking about GMOs and if maybe they have anything to do with the uptick in infertility in recent decades. (My theory: it has more to do with chemicals, like the kind found in plastic.)

Side note: I fully believe that in the next 10 to 50 years, scientists will discover a way to help women like me - women with DOR - regrow an ovary with a whole crop of fresh eggs. Or something similar that has the same results. "I was just born a decade or two too soon," I told her.

After the umpteenth discussion about IF, I said, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. You've had to spend so much of the last four years hearing me talk about my vagina. It can't have been fun for you - me working my way through all of the stages of grief."

She laughed. Then she said, "It's more like I want you to be happy, so when you get good news and good things are happening, I'm happy, too, and when you get sad news or sad things are happening, I'm sad, too."

In the early days of my diagnosis, the BFF was one of the only people I wanted to talk to about what was happening, but she was also one of the people who managed to say the wrong thing 50% of the time. It hurt. It was never intentional on her part - I know this - but outside of my husband, this is the one person who I really needed to "get it." I needed her to be there for me in ways she wasn't able.

It took a lot of therapy on my part, and a little of me coaching her a bit - "When you say things like X, it makes me feel Y" - but eventually it all worked out. Now she's one of the biggest sources of support I have. And I'm so glad that I have her in my corner.

Anyway.

So I spent most of Saturday playing fertility detective. This morning I woke up after 6 hours of sleep (Mr. Hope snored me awake). I had to pee pretty badly, so I got out the cup and dipped the stick and nothing happened.

White.

I put the stick on the side of the sink and reminded myself that it was still really early, and that I had until 8dp5dt to start to panic. A minute went by. I looked at the stick again. Still white, but is there maybe a shadow developing?

I reminded myself that you're supposed to wait three minutes for a reason. Duh.

And then I saw it. It's so pale, only trained infertiles would recognize it. A second line with only a whisper of pink to it. Seriously, it gives new meaning to the term "super-faint positive."

But it's there.

Today, I am pregnant.

It's weird; I don't feel the unfettered joy I did the first time around. Maybe because this time, I know how a positive pee stick can end.

(Of course, it could be because I don't have photographic evidence yet. I took a pic but it looks more like a fuzzy gray shadow right now, even though in person it's clearly got a pink tint. P.S., I sent the pic to a woman in my FB group who transferred the day before I did and who got a BFP at 4dp5dt and she totally saw it. Infertiles, man. We've got eagle eyes for this shit.)

My goal for the next few days is to not freak out. To not obsess. I need to make my grocery list. Pull together the docs I need for the accountant. Work on the freelance project.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe.

I peed.

Of course I peed. That is what infertiles do: we pee on things.

At 4dp5dt, it's BFN. Or a super-pale shadowy line that would never photograph in a million years and could possibly be an indent.

Or, you know, just plain BFN.

I have mixed emotions about this. On the one hand, I didn't expect to get a positive before at least 6dp5dt, because that's when I got my positive the last time. On the other, after all of that cramping and pressure yesterday, I started to get a little cocky thinking that this cycle worked.

What if I was wrong?

What if the cramping was from the embryos knocking on the door and my uterus saying NO, GO AWAY, YOU ARE NOT THE BABIES WE ARE LOOKING FOR?

I have two more FRER in my possession and three more en route. So I will pee again tomorrow, and again on Monday, and probably ever day up until 8 or 9 days past transfer, at which point if I'm still pulling negatives I'd likely call it. Or, if I've started pulling positives, will continue to pee up until beta and beyond.

Because that's what infertiles do: we pee on things. And not just any things.

We pee on things we pay for.

to pee or not too pee...

...that is the question.

Despite all of my negative nelly-ness, Things Are Happening. I recognize the symptoms. The constant, dull, AF-type cramps in my lower back. The pressure over my groin area. Occasional twinges. Ridiculous thirst, no matter how much water I drink. The ginormous under-the-skin chin zit that appeared in what seemed like an instant.

This is what I told Mr. Hope: "I can't tell you if it's viable, but I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant."

There. I said it. The thing I wasn't planning on saying for fear that I would jinx things or end up feeling foolish if I was wrong. The mild cramping I felt the day of transfer? Could've been from the catheter. The implantation pinches I felt 1dp5dt? Could've been anything, really, including wishful thinking.

But this? Today? It's been constant from the time I woke up. Lots of pressure, lots of cramping. A weird headache. Exhaustion. Heartburn. Some of that could be from the progesterone. Not all of it.

A woman in my FB group POAS today and got a faint positive at 4dp5dt. I was thinking I would wait until Sunday. After all, I didn't get my BFP last cycle until 6dp5dt, and the embies we transferred this time were more compacted than those.

But now I don't know. Now I kind of want to POAS tomorrow.

I already bought a three pack of FRER. They arrived earlier this week. I ordered a slightly cheaper three pack that takes longer to ship at the same time, so they should be coming soon. So I have 6 FRER and two digis (one FR, one CB) at the ready.

To pee or not to be?

I can't decide.

the waiting game.

We had our first ultrasound yesterday, at 5w3d. The tech pointed out the one lone black dot on the screen. She said, "I can see the gestational sac and yolk sac, so you have everything you need there." She told us that she didn't see the second, but that they're so small at this stage, we might see the second next week. Her gut, though, told her this was it.

I almost cried when she said she could see the yolk sac. I knew that's what we were looking for. So that was a relief.

Turns out our RE is in a different office on Wednesdays, so we had to see another one in the practice. I'd never met with this doctor before, though I'd heard Dr. Smiles make a couple of disparaging remarks about him. Anyway, Mr. Hope named him Dr. Eyeore because he was all, "Because of your age, your chance of miscarriage is 25 percent right out the gate. I'd say you're in the high teens now. After we see the heartbeat, it goes down to 12 percent, and then keeps going down after that. We'll know more next week. Don't get too excited and don't tell anybody. But I'm liking what I see; we're off to a good start."

So my enthusiasm was tempered even before we left the office. I was feeling all sorts of things I couldn't even begin to process. Relief that there was a yolk sac. Sadness that only one embryo made it and, because of course I assumed it was the donors', loss. This was our last chance at a biological child, after all.

But also I had this niggling feeling something wasn't quite right. I'd had it for a few days, when the control line on the FRER I took at 18dp5dt wasn't significantly lighter than the one I'd taken two days prior. Shouldn't the test line be way darker by now? Shouldn't it be stealing dye from the control line like crazy?

And then there was Mr. Hope. We'd talked about him not going to the first ultrasound, because it was really just going to be a dot on the screen. The heartbeat ultrasound was the one he really needed to be there for. He was fine with this, and then all of a sudden he changed his mind. This was Tuesday. He rearranged his work schedule and insisted on being there Wednesday morning. I felt this cold dread, like why had he suddenly changed his mind? Why was it suddenly so dire to him that he be there? Did he know that we were going to get bad news? Did he just have a feeling?

But it turned out that his old boss, whom he had told we were pregnant, goaded him into it. "You don't want to miss the first ultrasound," she told him. "You'll regret it and Mrs. Agony will kill you."

(For the record, I wouldn't have. It's just a black dot, is all.)

I'd asked the nurse what time the physician's side called with blood results. She said between 2 and 3. When 3:30 rolled around and I still hadn't heard anything, I started to get nervous. They save the bad news calls for the end of the day.

At 3:40, I dialed in. The woman who answered the phone was all, "We don't call you with the results every time, but let me check." She put me on hold. When she came back on the line, she told me that my hCG was a whopping 1,461.

"Uh, that's low, right?" I asked.

"Hold on," she said. "Let me page a nurse."

I immediately brought up a doubling calculator on my laptop and typed the numbers in. The doubling time was alarming: 110.23 hours. At this stage, I should be closer to 72 max.

I felt like I was going to start crying.

After a while, the nurse who drew my blood this morning got on the phone. She's a sweet old lady but seems a little touched - she smiles a lot but her eyes look a little vacant. She said, "We didn't forget about you!" and then proceeded to read me all of the numbers. Turns out my progesterone dropped from 19 to 16.7, too. I'd thought the 19 was a little low because the night before hadn't been a PIO night. But I'd had PIO on Tuesday night, in addition to the suppository.

Nurse Special told me that Dr. Eyeore wanted me to increase the PIO to 1.5 cc every other night. When I'd asked about the drop, she said, "As long as it's over 15, you're fine."

I asked about the low hCG.

"It's a little low," she agreed. "But Dr. Eyeore says we need to see where you are next week."

This answer wasn't good enough for me. I asked Nurse Special if I could speak to a doctor. She put me on hold for a while I tried desperately not to lose my shit.

When she came back on, she told me that Dr. Eyeore was gone for the day so she had Dr. Smiles paged. He was upset that I'd scheduled an appointment on a day he wasn't in the office. For the record: I didn't even KNOW this until I got there; I'd spent most of my time with the IVF nurses, not my RE. He told Nurse Special to tell me to ONLY schedule appointments on the days that he's in the office, further underscoring my feeling that there is no love lost between him and Dr. Eyeore.

He also told Nurse Special to tell me that he's seen low betas take off, and not to worry - it's still early. He did want me to move my second ultrasound up from Tuesday to Monday, though. Oh, and he wanted me to keep the PIO at 1 cc but take it every night.

None of this comforted me. Not one bit.

I started crying even before I hung up the phone. Because I don't care what Dr. Smiles or Dr. Eyeore or anyone else said: I knew then that I would lose this baby.

So then I had to go back and start telling everyone I'd sent the ultrasound picture to that they shouldn't get too excited - that things didn't look good.

It's amazing how much slower response times are when you share not-so-great news.

I cried on and off the rest of the afternoon. Gumbo was texting me and telling me to have faith and to talk to my body and tell the little bugger to hold on. I felt kind of silly, so I picked up a picture book to read out loud. Mr. Hope and I had done this once before. I chose Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, as it seemed appropriate.

I started bawling almost immediately, and cried as I read the entire thing. Then I cried some more.

Since it was Wednesday, I had therapy with Chance at 6:30. I cried on the ride over. I cried in his office. I told him it was my fault. That my body was toxic because I ate cookies from the BFF's and my marathon baking session. I ate cookies, I told him, and I killed the baby. This was on me. I cried so hard on when I tried to drive home that I had to pull over because I couldn't even see the road.

I know how crazy that sounds. I am not a crazy person. But I just couldn't wrap my brain around it. I still can't. How did I go from such a strong first beta to this? What went wrong? Why?

I missed my mom. Even as I missed her I couldn't entirely figure out why I wanted her so badly, because even though my mom was great in a crisis, this wasn't the kind of crisis she excelled at. In fact, she'd probably have made things way worse. It would've been like the time she told me it was "a scientific fact" that if you wanted a baby too badly, you couldn't get pregnant. "It's a scientific fact," she repeated angrily, like, duh.

One of the first things my mom said to me after I got married was, "Now go make me a grandbaby." And when she died, I felt so horribly guilty that I couldn't give her one. When I got pregnant, I felt so sad that my mom wasn't here - that she would never get to know the grandbaby she wanted so badly.

Now, this.

Most of the women in my super-secret Facebook support group are women of faith. There are a lot of requests for prayers and a lot of prayers going up, and sometimes those prayers are left right in the comments themselves. One of the first women to respond to my update said, "I hate to say it, but it is in God's hands, so you have to believe that the right thing will happen."

I hate when people tell me things that like. I never, ever belittle anyone's faith or religion; in fact, I envy people who have that kind of faith, because I'm sure my life would be easier if I shared their beliefs.

But I also find it really kind of disrespectful when people impose their beliefs on me, even if it's inadvertent. It's one thing for someone to tell you they're saying a prayer for you - I find that sweet, actually - but it's another for someone to tell you that this bad thing is happening because it's part of God's plan. I just can't imagine that God is that big of an asshole.

I went to bed really early last night. This morning, I dutifully POAS. The control line was darker than my previous test and the test line was lighter.

So I'm guessing it's only a matter of time before I start bleeding.

I'm going to ask Posh Clinic if I can come in for a blood test tomorrow instead of waiting until Monday, because if the number is dropping as quickly as I'm expecting it to then at least I'll have the weekend to start grieving. And if the number's still going up, then it will give me the tiniest bit of hope.

I'll take any hope I can get right about now.

beta day.

In a few hours, I'll get my blood drawn for my beta test. The wait has been excruciating, especially since I started pulling positives on pee tests a week ago. But this morning, the test line on my FRER finally got darker than the control line, and even the Wondfo is a screaming dark purple-red.

I'm kind of all over the place right now. Monday I was so tired I was passing out at 9:45 and put myself to bed. Then, last night, I stayed up until 11 but accidentally forgot to take my progesterone pessary, which I remembered at 5:15 a.m. when I woke up, peed in a cup, and didn't see any pessary residue. I jammed one of those puppies up in my lady business and tried to go back to sleep but my heart and mind were both racing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Got out of bed again and Googled "took progesterone pessary late." The general consensus of the Interwebs is that I should be fine.

Yesterday was the first day I had some major pregnancy symptoms. I've been getting things on and off - like, my boobs are intermittently sore. Some days I wake up and they're not sore at all and I think, "Okay, it's over," and then the line comes up nice and dark, and two hours later the girls are on fire all over again.

I still feel pinches/twinges in my uterus and a fullness/pressure above my pubic bone. There's been some mild queasiness, particularly in the mornings and usually involving scrambled eggs. If I stop loving scrambled eggs I might just cry. Speaking of crying: At work yesterday I got some emails that made me tear up (all happy things, but I was just so moved).

Other symptoms: yesterday I had a hot flash in my office that caused me to sweat off my makeup and made me hair frizz out around my face. And then there's Harold, which is what I've named the annoying, inflamed hemorrhoid that's taken up residence on the left side of my anus. It makes pooping feel like someone's scraping glass from my inside out and is so tender that right now even sitting is really uncomfortable. I always feel like Harold is a gift from my mom, who used to tell me that she never had hemorrhoids before she was pregnant with me.

Oh, and the hunger set in for the first time. For whatever reason, this cycle I haven't had much of an appetite. But yesterday I was in a 9:30 a.m. meeting and my stomach was audibly growling. This is after half of an avocado and most of a bowl of scrambled eggs with cheese. I drank 24 oz. of water, thinking maybe I was thirsty, but no. Still starving. I ate an apple with peanut butter. STILL STARVING.

Then I got a craving for this roasted red pepper and gouda soup at the sandwich shop by my office. Drove over to get a small bowl of it and saw they still had pumpkin bagels. On a whim, I ordered one toasted with cream cheese. Then felt guilt (but not so guilty that I didn't end up eating half, because I totally did).

In my head I thought, "If this baby is so fragile that half a bagel is going to mean its demise, it probably won't make it anyway."

It's a morbid thought, yes. But at the same time, I felt like maybe this was my way of starting to let go of this insane notion that any little thing I do can have catastrophic impact on my pregnancy. Hell, I accidentally drank a mug of abortion tea and I was fine. I ate half of a papaya salad and I was fine. I scarfed down half a pumpkin bagel AND forgot to take my progesterone pessary on a night when I didn't have a PIO injection either and guess what? BABY IS STILL IN THERE.

I don't know if I'll ever relax enough to truly enjoy this pregnancy, but at least I'm at a place where I can actually think of myself as pregnant. The first few days, I'd SAY that I was pregnant, but I didn't believe it. It seemed fake, like something I made up in my head.

But it's not fake. It's real.

I am really, truly pregnant.

Finally.

and the anxiety sets in...

First, obligatory pee stick update: still pregnant.

That's a beautiful line, right? 

According to this handy-dandy IVF due date calculator, I am currently three weeks and six days pregnant, with an expected due date of August 16, 2015.

So this is my new morning routine. I get up around 5:45 (why? Why so early) and pee into my little plastic cup. I dip the Wondfo for shits and giggles. I dip the FRER. Love that the line comes up instantly. Count minutes until I can compare it to the previous day's test (is it getting darker? I hope it's getting darker. That looks darker, right?). When stick is sufficiently darkened (but still in the acceptable window), I launch into my daily photo shoot: all of the sticks together, today's by itself, today's with yesterday, and a few Wondfo comparison shots.

That yellowing from the 6DP5DT test is rather unsightly, isn't it?

I am clearly not well.

My cold rages on and last night I coughed so hard and so long I was afraid that I would cough the embryos out. Earlier, when I ventured out of the house with Mr. Hope to accompany him to his doctor's appointment, my jeans felt a little snug and this made the pressure above my groin more prominent. There was pinching on the right side and some on the left, but by night I couldn't feel the pinching and this scared me. Every time I went to the bathroom (which was often, because every coughing fit I almost peed my pants) I expected to see blood.

I said to Mr. Hope, "I'm just afraid it's all going to end any second now."

There are a lot of women in the IF community who've experienced one or more early losses. I mean, even women who haven't battled IF have miscarriages all of the time, especially when they're my age. So there is a part of me that's almost expecting this to be our fate.

And then there's this other part of me that was like, "Oh, shit, I should probably start scouting OBs," and ended up pinning a schedule of classes at a local birthing center. I was particularly interested in one about eating/exercising in pregnancy that's happening in January. I wanted to register - there were only 9 spots left - but then thought that if I did I'd be jinxing things. I came thisclose to calling and asking about their refund policy: "I totally want to sign up for this class but I'm barely pregnant and terrified that I'll end up unpregnant any second now. Can I defer my enrollment if I miscarry?"

Jinxing is on my mind a LOT now. Like, this cold makes it difficult for me to want to cook anything. But eating out is fraught with peril. DOES THAT HAVE FLOUR IN IT? IF I EAT THE FLOUR, WILL I LOSE THIS PREGNANCY? Early on, I made a proclamation that if I was pregnant, I wouldn't eat chocolate during the first trimester. Then I said, "Hell, if I get pregnant, I'll happily give up chocolate the entire pregnancy!" So now I feel like this is a binding agreement with the universe, and that if I have any chocolate whatsoever, I'm putting this pregnancy in danger.

Like I said: NOT WELL.

Also, I'm like three days pregnant (by pee stick time) and already I've screwed up twice. Mr. Hope served me a mug of Mint Melange tea that had lemon grass in it. I thought he'd given me peppermint and didn't realize until I got to the end that it wasn't that. I knew I wasn't supposed to have the Mint Melange but couldn't remember why. Turns out lemon grass can be used to induce abortions. HE UNWITTINGLY GAVE ME ABORTION TEA. Worse, I drank it.

Now I'm afraid to drink any tea, though I've read on multiple reputable sites that peppermint tea is likely safe. Rooibos is supposed to be great for pregnancy, but I haven't been able to find any in the store. I think I'm going to order some on Amazon just to put my mind at ease. In the meantime, I'm drinking hot lemon water with a little honey mixed in. That makes me nervous, too, because I've been considering honey as sugar. Am I breaking my healthy eating pact by ingesting honey? Or do I get a pass because it's supposed to be great for coughs?

Speaking of: I'd read that I could take Mucinex for a cold. But it turns out, Mucinex is guaifenesin, which is a Cat C for pregnancy (basically, probably not good, though some sites say it's fine after the first trimester). I think I took it like four times before finding this out. What I can take is Delsym (dextromethorphan), which is alcohol-free. So I bought that yesterday when I was picking up extra Wondfos and a two pack of the Clear Blue Digitals that read the number of weeks pregnant on them (I only have a FRER digi and it doesn't read weeks). Haven't taken a digi yet, though I probably will tomorrow.

I still have FIVE days until my beta test. I thought about calling yesterday to see if they'd give it to me earlier, since Sunday will be the equivalent of 14 DPO and a normal time to get a beta. Even Monday would've been an improvement. But I decided against it. If I'm meant to stay pregnant, that's going to happen no matter when I get my beta.

There are so many thoughts swirling around in my brain right now. The only thing keeping me sane is knowing that my brand of crazy is universal for women who've gotten pregnant after struggling with infertility for years.

Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C

What I really need right now is SLEEP. I haven't been getting more than 5-6 hours a night, and I'm typically a 7-8 hours a night kind of girl. I'm exhausted but I don't stay asleep, and the minute I wake up in the morning I'm all pee sticks and iPhone.

This will get a little bit easier at some point, won't it? I keep thinking that I can just hang on until the end of the first trimester (assuming we're lucky enough to make it that far) that maybe - maybe - I could relax just a little. Like it will be that moment in Say Anything, when a London-bound Lloyd Dobbler tells Diane Court that most accidents happen during the first few minutes of a flight, and if she can just wait for the fasten seat belt sign to ding off, they'll be in the all-clear.

My "ding" can't come soon enough.

wtf, wondfo?

I had this plan that I was only going to use my FRERs every other day. I had two in reserve and a digital in the linen closet. If I took the digi on beta day (Wednesday), I'd have just enough.

Only, my Wondfo this morning was so pale, it looked negative. I started to feel panicky. Why wasn't it getting any darker? Sure, the Wondfos had been light all along; three days past trigger, when I should have still had a minimum of 6,000 mIUs of hCG still in me, they were still pretty light.

But what if?

What if I was literally pregnant for a single day?

I dipped the FRER.

The second line started to come up immediately. Within two minutes, it was darker than yesterday's. Better yet, it continued to darken.

I'm still pregnant. Here, see for yourself.

Do you see that Wondfo? Do you blame me for getting panicky? Wondfo, I think it's time I quit you.

I'M STILL PREGNANT!

The fact that it got so much darker today makes me feel like this is actually happening. Yesterday I was in a little bit of a daze. I walked around the house, carrying the test with me from room to room. (That's normal, right?) I'd keep looking at it from different angles, holding it up to the light, hoping (praying, wishing) that this baby (babies?) would stick around for the whole nine months.

Yesterday, I texted pictures of the tests to four people: my two best friends in the whole world and two of my closest sisters in infertility. My two infertiles saw the line immediately. The BFF was like, "Very faint but I see it too!" (I'm apparently training her to have an infertile's eye.)

And then there was Gumbo. She didn't text back right away, and then I got busy with work and wasn't even thinking about it. Around 10:30 I got this text:

I'm so sorry, I'm actually confused and angry. I thought this time for sure. Could it be too early?

I was like, "It's positive!" I sent her a zoomed in picture. She texted back:

What?!!!! It doesn't show up in pic! Are you home?!!! I've been so sad!!!

Then, a few exchanges later:

I still can't see it I'm jumping out of my skin I'm coming over

So she did. To be fair, she showed me the picture on her phone and you really can't see anything. Not even a whisper.

Now the hard part is going to be NOT shouting this off the rooftops. There are so many people who've been there for me and cheering me on. Can I tell them? Should I? It's still SO early. But Glam Coworker, who's still out on maternity leave, told me the day after she got a positive pregnancy test. There are a few family members and close friends who knew I was cycling. Should I tell them?

And then I think: the more people I tell now, the more people I'd have to tell if something goes wrong.

I don't like thinking about something going wrong.

But I did have this talk with Mr. Hope, who was under some delusion that the beta test was the last hurdle to clear. I was like, "Um, that's like the third lowest run on a very long ladder." He was all, "Say what now?"

I told him that the bottom run was making it to retrieval. Making it to transfer was the next. (In previous versions of this lesson, I've also included egg fertilizing and egg growing day to day as rungs, too, but I was trying to simplify here.) After beta, I informed him, was second beta and likely third beta. After third beta it was ultrasound, and then heartbeat ultrasound, and so on and so forth.

His poor face. He looked like a puppy I'd kicked.

"I have to tell you," he said later, "I'm a little scared."

"That's pretty normal," I assured him.

Even so, I need to be careful. I don't want to let anxiety rob me of this happiness. I'm pregnant. I AM WITH CHILD. And, to be perfectly honest, I've been getting pinching cramps in two entirely different places - low on the right, higher up on the left. There is a possibility that we're looking at twins here.

One step at a time, Agony. One step at a time.

the evils of early testing.

While I wouldn't call myself a true POAS-holic, I have dropped a small fortune on pregnancy tests in the years I've been trying to conceive. So I already had a pouch full of Wondfos at the ready before I even started this cycle, and as soon as I knew when retrieval was, I bought a three-pack of FRERs from Amazon.

I told myself I'd try to wait until 5DP5DT to test. That would be the morning of my mid-2WW hormone level check and the equivalent of 10 DPO. But of course I didn't make it until then.

Of course I didn't.

I used my first Wondfo 3DP5DT. A ghost of a line came up within the first three minutes. I thought maybe I was seeing something that wasn't there. It got darker as it dried, but definitely had the purple-red color typical of a Wondfo. I lined it up with the first two I took when I was testing out my trigger, as well as the one I took when I decided the trigger was out of my system. It was lighter than three days post-trigger, but darker than five days post-trigger.

It's really hard to see from this photograph, but there is a faint line on that bottom one. The top two were taken three days after the trigger, the third five days after trigger, and the fourth 3DP5DT.

Mr. Hope and I looked at the sticks together. I photographed them. You could still see that the one on the bottom had color. Was I pregnant? COULD IT BE TWINS?

I sent the photo to the BFF for a second opinion. She saw "something." We talked about how tomorrow would be the true test. Would it get darker?

It did not. 

It got lighter, so I broke open a FRER. I saw another ghost line that could've been an indent. I ripped the cartridge apart to get a better look. Another "something," but nothing I felt convinced was a true BFP.

The Wondfo I took yesterday, 5DP5DT, was so light it was practically snow. Disheartened, I went in for my hormone level check.

The visit was good. For one thing, Fave NP was there and she's typically not in on Wednesdays. She brought me to an exam room even though the blood draw pod was clear because she wanted me to catch her up on the cycle. So, I did, and she was genuinely excited for me about having a blast of our own to transfer. 

Then I confessed to her that I've been peeing on sticks (because at this point, I feel like Fave NP and I are practically friends). I told her about the super-faint positive 3DP5DT, and how it got lighter and lighter. I told her I didn't think it was the trigger because I'd tested it out a few days prior. She did the math and said, "We've seen the trigger shot last ten, eleven days. I think it's more likely that you picked up that."

I told her I wasn't hopeful. 

Mr. Hope and I were both home sick from work - I am SO sick, you guys, like CRAZY sick - so I spent the day Googling things like "BFN 5DP5DT then BFP." Literally, the better part of an entire day. I Googled every minor symptom I had, including "pressure in groin area pregnant" and "stabbing pain in left side of uterus for a minute implantation."

Fave NP had asked me if I'd keep testing. I told her, "I'm going to try to hold out until my beta." 

I lasted until around 6:30 p.m. last night.

My urine so pale, I don't know why I bothered dipping the Wondfo. I brushed my teeth while I waited, since it's got a two-minute timer on it. I thought I saw something pale and shadowy, but nothing darker than what I'd been seeing for days.

I tucked it into a pouch with unopened Wondfos and walked away.

So here's the thing: even though I kept reading stories of women who'd say, "Oh, I got BFNs until 7DP5DT" or "I didn't get my first faint BFP until 13 DPO," you also read a lot of stories by women who say they got their BFPs 8 DPO or 4DP5DT. In my super-secret Facebook support group, there had been a ton of BFPs lately, and all of them were on 4DP5DT or 5DP5DT. 

Clearly, I was out. I just had to accept it and move on.

I've been having trouble sleeping. Probably because of the cold, but maybe because of the excitement/anxiety of being in the 2WW. Last night I went to bed a little after 11 and woke up around 1:45. I had to pee so bad, but was like, "If I pee now, when I get up tomorrow I'll only have a four-hour hold." And then I thought, "Screw it. If I get another BFN tomorrow, I can always chalk it up to the four-hour hold." 

Sure enough, I woke up just before 6 a.m. I peed in my little plastic cup. I dipped the Wondfo and waited. 

Another ghost line. Color, but so pale only fellow infertiles, with their eyes trained to detect such things, would immediately see it.

But oh! What's this? An extra FRER left over from my last cycle tucked into the pouch of Wondfos. I look at the expiration date, see December 2015, and register it as December 2014. 

I tear it open and dip it in.

Within a minute, I start to see something pale and shadowy. Another indent? It's too early to be an evap. 

I keep watching.

It gets darker. And then darker still. And finally, it's so visible I can actually photograph the fucker. It's no squinter - even non-infertiles would see that line.

This also photographs paler than it is in person. I don't know why my iPhone camera hates me.

I take picture after picture. I text one to the BFF. Then I feel guilty for "telling" her before Mr. Hope.

I wake him up.

"We're pregnant," I say. "The line is pink and it's visible and it hasn't even been ten minutes. As of today, we are PREGNANT."

He follows me into the bathroom to get a better look. "Yep," he says. "I see it."

We hug, and he's burning up. I make him go take his temp but it's normal. We go into the kitchen so I can give him some cold meds.

I give him crap for not seeming more excited. He says, "I'm sick, my head is swimmy, and you just woke me up."

Just an ordinary day, folks.

Except, it's not.

TODAY, I AM MOFO PREGNANT.

I've never had a true BFP. This is literally my first.

So now we wait to see if the line gets darker between now and next Wednesday, which is when my beta is. Because of course I just can't be blanket happy, over-the-moon. Of course I'm going to be peeing on things every morning between now and then.

Even if next Wednesday's beta is good, I'm going to be sweating it out until I get the second beta (it would be that Friday, I'm guessing). And then I'll be sweating until the first ultrasound, and then until I see a heartbeat, etc., etc.

Because of all the things that infertility takes from you, I've heard from so many fellow infertiles who've gone on to find success that losing out on pregnancy joy is one of the worst. 

But today - at this moment in time - I'm not going to think about that. 

I'm going to stare at my first-ever BFP and smile like an idiot.

symptom spotting.

I'm 2dp5dt (two days past five-day transfer) and so far, nothing.

No real symptoms whatsoever.

I know that it's early and that not every women gets symptoms regardless. But still. I've got nothing. And I've been on the progesterone now for a week now, so shouldn't I be feeling something? When I'm not in a cycle, and have ovulated naturally, I get heartburn and gas and tenderness in my boobs.

Okay, so my temp is elevated (as it should be), and I've had a couple of hot flashes. And yesterday I pooped five times and then again this morning; I never thought this was a possible sign of pregnancy by if you Google it quite a large number of people have reported it. (Me, I thought it was because I was taking Miralax preemptively, as progesterone tends to constipate the hell out of me even when I'm not on supplements.)

Let's see...I was a bit queasy yesterday, in the AM and the PM, but I also started the estradiol and that can sometimes make me feel nauseated. Oh, and I'm definitely getting a cold, but I felt like I was fending one off during a lot of my stims so I can't see how that's tied to having a bean or two on board.

Basically, there's a rational explanation for everything, and not a single "symptom" that feels like an actually symptom.

Theoretically I could start POAS Tuesday (the equivalent of 9 DPO), but I'm fairly certain that it would be negative even if I was pregnant. I'd told myself I'd hold out until Wednesday AM, the day of my first hormone-level check (10 DPO). But I could totally see myself caving out of curiosity. Isn't this what cheapie Internet test strips were invented for?

Even though I have this cold, I am so looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. Anything to keep me busy and make the time go faster, right? Less time to obsess.

I read on another blog that someone said she had infertility bipolar during the 2WW - that she vacillated between certain her IVF worked and convinced that she'd never be pregnant. I'm guessing this is fairly common among us infertiles. It's definitely where I am, just two days in.

Here's a confession: I'm terrified my cycle won't have worked in part because every time I'm in one, someone close to me gets pregnant a few weeks before I do and I don't. First attempted IVF that was converted to IUI: Gumbo. First true IVF: Glam Coworker.

Kindred got her BFP a couple of weeks ago, and I honestly couldn't be happier. But some crazy part of me wonders if this is going to be the Pregnancy Touch all over again, where my friend is successful and I am not. Maybe I really SHOULD start charging to rub people's bellies.

Or maybe I should just chill the eff out.

testing out the trigger.

I've often heard of women "testing out the trigger" shot - peeing on sticks from the beginning so that when they start testing after transfer, they can be sure it's their bodies producing the hCG, and not the shot they took to ripen their eggs.

I hadn't done this previously. With my first IUI, I waited until 10 days after the trigger shot to test (so, 10 DPO). I got a faint line on FRER that stayed the same color for a day before fading. I never knew if it was picking up the last traces of the trigger shot or if I had a chemical. The same thing happened with my second IUI but not the third; I never had faint positives with my IVFs.

So this morning, I captured my FMU in a disposable plastic cup, then dipped a Wondfo strip in it. Three minutes later, I didn't see anything. I literally took my trigger shot three days prior; there's no way it was out of my system yet. I passed the five-minute mark and only just started to see a hint of something, but honestly? If I'd take a picture you wouldn't have been able to see anything.

It wasn't until the stick was dry that I saw an actual line. Even then, it looked more like an indent evap than a positive test. I even did a second stick in the same FMU to see if it was just a bad one, but no. Same result.

I'm actually kind of glad I did that. I know not to put too much stock in Wondfo negatives now.

(If you come to this post through Google, here's the info on my particular batch: Lot W00130460-3 Exp: 04/2015.)