Someone Stop Me, Please

I did a pee test early this morning.  To my blurry eyes, it was negative, so I put it on the nightstand and laid back down.  Fifteen minutes later, Davie woke up.  I picked up the test, and lo and behold, a pale, faint line.  Mom and Troy said they could see it too.  Of course, it was after the official test time, and it’s still two days early.

But still, I started wondering, why is it so faint?  Is it really a positive?

So I drew my blood at work and retested.  The line is still faint, maybe even fainter than the morning test.  Wouldn’t serum from 9 hours later make a darker line than pee from the morning?

I hate to put it in writing … I’m suspecting chemical pregnancy.  Hope followed by complete and utter dashing of hope, crushing disappointment.  Been there, done that.  The cycle was so, so perfect.  So many mature eggs, so many fertilized, a perfect blast and two other great embryos put back.  I took all my meds, right on time, every time.  The only thing I might have done wrong was pick up Davie too much on the Thursday after embryo transfer on Monday.  I was pretty careful, though. 

Troy asked, why don’t our babies stick?  Aren’t they supposed to burrow into the lining of you?  I don’t know, I wish I knew, I don’t understand it either.

When I hold Davie, I know she’s enough.  I can be happy the rest of my life, just the three of us.  But down here in the trenches, it’s still hard not to be … crushed, confused … and sad.  My babies still died inside me.

Two more days until it’s official.  Wednesday will tell the story.  Wednesday is a lifetime away.