Warning: This is a cussing-ist *ss post. This was the day for it.
When I awoke this 11dp3dt morning I felt sadness... fear about this cycle overtook me. My tears started around the time when I noticed that my abdomen felt different, felt less active. It could've been the HCG booster that I took on Saturday was beginning to wear off because every time I take that shot my ovaries start to act up soon after. My abdomen actually felt a bit normal & that scared the hell out of me.
So what did I do?
Let me tell you what I did: I reached for my very-last leftover Family Dollar HPT & used that m*therf*cker! Of course it came up positive, could still be the residual booster... but I didn't care, I didn't care, I didn't care. I needed to see those 2 m*therf*cking lines on that cheap *ss test TO-DAY. Like methadone to a heroin addict, it ain't the real thing but it'll do for now. Needed that hope, didn't matter that it was false, to help me get through the day & to renew my confidence.
I felt so much better after doing it, too. Can't even begin to tell you. I smiled & shook my head at my fool *ss, told myself out loud "it's all right, you're all right, keep it moving, girl" & washed my face. And I kept it moving, too, feeling much, much better. That HPT saved me!
I refuse to put myself down for breaking down & testing. Hell, I'm only human. The 2WW is hard enough without me piling it on. Bless that HPT, it was a perfect pacifier; I'll bid it a fond farewell when I take the trash out tonight.
The 2WW is a masochistic enterprise so if I can take a little control of it, that's what I'll do. Single, check. No man on the horizon, check. Fibroids vet, check. Infertility bullsh*t, check. Multiple IVFer, check. Gained at least 10 lbs. in the last 2 months, check. Second 2WW, check. I'm not complaining, just taking an inventory because even as I type this I feel proud of myself for even putting myself through & growing from this sh*t. Just trying to build a family of my own, that's all... & God helps those who help themselves.
To TTC as an SMBC takes two-ton balls of m*therf*cking steel. It takes brave m*therf*ckers to put themselves through these emotions, these pills, these shots, these appointments, these vaginal probes, these retrievals, these transfers, these two long-*ss m*therf*cking weeks. And I commend us! So, sh*t, false hope is better than no hope at all. And that's true all day long... at least until Friday!