This post is part of Time Warp Tuesdays hosted by Kathy at Bereaved and Blessed . The second Tuesday of every month, we dig into our archives and find a post that relates to this month’s theme and reflect on how we’ve grown. This month’s theme is hope. Swing by Kathy’s blog today to see who else is participating and join in the fun!
For the better part of my life, I have dreaded the home pregnancy test.
Because if I was taking one, that meant I didn’t actually want to be pregnant.
Oh how things have changed.
The last one I remembered taking was in November of 2008. I hadn’t yet been diagnosed. We hadn’t even been married a year. I was so panicked, I actually went out and bought emergency contraception as soon as I realized the error of our timing. We just weren’t ready then.
In the end, it didn’t matter anyway and I wasted $45 on EC to prevent a pregnancy that had no chance of existing.
Apparently though, I took another HPT again, in August 2009 . I was 5 months out from my diagnosis. You’d think I would’ve learned by then, but apparently not:
Today I promise to stop peeing on sticks, b/c in this economy and in a single-income household, I simply cannot afford to buy anymore. I’ve had persistent nausea and migraines for the last week. I thought *maybe* – maybe baby.
$13 later, maybe not.
When you haven’t had a period in 7.5 months (227 days to be exact, but who’s counting?) it kind of makes any odd early pregnancy symptom jump out at you, even when you know you have a busted ovary.
Today at lunch, I P’d OAS. I didn’t even set a timer. 20 minutes later my husband reminded me- Hey, did I check it? Oh yeah, duh. The single line of doom. Toss it out like every other one. And every POAS I’ve ever done in my life- including the handful in college- has always been for the same reason: Oh crap. Am I? Did we?
Previous to my diagnosis, one line meant relief. Now, it’s an annoying reminder. A minus sign. Me minus a baby. Me, incomplete in some way. Two lines are an equal sign. Two lines equal completion.
Today, I promise to stop peeing on sticks until we’re actively trying, which at this point, is so up in the air right now it makes me want to scream. I need to stop overanalyzing myself and my body. I need to stop thinking that my POF will reverse itself, magically, on a whim. And every time it comes up negative, I just get into one helluva foul mood.
Today, I’m giving up believing in chances, in maybes, in what ifs. It’s not a matter of giving up hope; it’s a matter of fiscal responsibility. It’s a matter of survival.
As far as I can tell, that was the last time I used a pregnancy test. I’ve kept my promise to myself.
I find it interesting that I saw the act of POAS as a sign of weakness then, and that by giving up HPTs, it might be indicative of somehow giving up hope. For me, at that point in my journey, it was about emotional survival.
And here I am, 10dp3dt of my very first IVF cycle, which means by all accounts, I could totally POAS today with accurate results.
And yet, I won’t.
I’m on the PVED Boards , in the Fall Cycle group. It’s a huge group of women, all discussing their adventures in donor egg IVF. It’s been immensely helpful. There’s lots of free-flowing urine in there. For many women, the act of POAS is like an act of control, since so much control is ripped away from us.
Not every woman in our group has been successful. And it breaks your heart to read about someone taking an HPT, getting a BFN only to have it officially confirmed at their beta a few days later. Or worse, a very faint line but in truth, a beta that wasn’t viable.
I feel like HPT should stand for “Hope Possibility Test” at this point, because I feel like these (entirely too expensive) hormonal litmus tests can turn us into pee-stick obsessed crazy ladies.
Beta is in just 2 days from now. I begged Larry to let me POAS over this weekend, but he has expressly forbidden it. And I realized he’s right. We just don’t want to play any games with the hope that we’re clinging to right now. After all, I’m pregnant – until proven otherwise.
I only have 2 more days until the moment of proof.
I’m not pissing all over anyone who needs to POAS every day of their 2ww, let me be clear; I just feel that we’ve invested so much emotionally into this first (and we pray, only) round of IVF that if I were to POAS and get a negative, it would just crush me – and any hope we have right now – before ever walking into my clinic on Thursday morning.
This 2ww has not only been an exercise in epic patience, but one of constant abiding hope. Hope that yes: our Team Zoll MVPs have stuck around and that in about nine months from now, we’ll get to meet them in person.
And truly, no matter what happens, no matter how beta goes this Thursday: hope is not something I can just “give up” anyway. It’s just not who I am.
Dum spiro, spero. While I breathe, I hope. ~Cicero