It’s three days post transfer, and I know it feels crazy to even think it, but I feel pregnant.
“It’s too early to have symptoms” I chide myself, even as my first sip of coffee in the morning starts giving a familiar feeling of heartburn. As much as I promised to stay calmer this time, and not overanalyze every twinge and perceived change, there’s a gut feeling and a heart feeling that I can’t shake. I’m too nervous to tell Intended Parents any of this. I’m also way too nervous to test. “It’s too soon” is the mantra I keep repeating to myself, as the temptation to go to the drug store this minute bombards my thoughts.
Day four. I got up to pee in the night. I never get up to pee in the night. Except for…..
There’s a kind of hostage situation like negotiation happening inside my head right now. “You can wait till the weekend. It’s just four more days. If you last four whole days, you can totally reward yourself with a test.” “I don’t need to test. I can make it till betas. I can find out at the same time as my IPs and keep things completely fair. No testing.” “Just one pee stick, early enough, so that if it’s not super positive you won’t lose hope. In say, one, two days tops.” “NO! NO TESTING.”
If there’s one thing my brain can agree on, it’s that this two week wait business is nonsense. And even though I think my body is giving me all the signals that the news will be good news, the waiting is still pretty unbearable.
Everything is crossed. There’s good news ahead.