Yesterday I fell for that old slut, hope, but when I woke up this morning she was gone.
So, the day before yesterday I was feeling all crampy. Even though there was no sign of spotting when I woke up yesterday, I managed to hold hope mostly at bay. But then, all day long I had to pee. I had to pee so many times at work yesterday that I started visiting different bathrooms, just for variety. And my boobs were still sore. And I was just so tired. Hope perched on my desk and whispered to me all afternoon about my due date, and an upcoming tag sale of baby items to benefit a charity, and how excited Al would be when I told him.
So, this morning. 11 dpo. My bbt was a little lower, but still well above the cover line. I lay in bed arguing with myself about the futility of peeing on a stick. I thought about all the peeing yesterday. I thought about how I did not have to get up once to pee during the night last night. I thought about how sore my breasts have been since 3dpo. I thought about how they weren't very sore at all this morning. I groped myself for awhile, searching in vain for any tenderness, but no, it was gone. I thought about how symptoms can come and go. Sanity and frugality lost, hope won, and I got up to pee on a stick.
It was negative, of course. Completely, unambiguously. I even held it to bright lights and tried to find that faint hint of a line that is only visible by the light of a thousand suns. No, no, no.
I feel foolish. But then, hope pointed out that it might be a little early to test. It's not that early, I told her, and all my symptoms have vanished. She's still whispering in my ear. And I can't quite block her out. So I am feeling (1) not pregnant, (2) hopeful that I might be anyway, and (3) stupid for clinging to that hope.