This post could also be titled "Here We Go Again."
To recap, at the end of February, I had miscarriage number 6. That would be number 2 since we started working on Baby 3.0 almost two years ago. So now we're working on Baby 3.2.
With that backdrop, you can understand why my husband reacted with the colorful phrase "Holy fuckballs," when I texted him this photo. Because, you see, a little tiny positive at 12DPO is a grey area of immense proportions in my world. It could be good, it could be bad. It all depends on where we are at 14DPO when I finally get up the nerve to call my doctor for a blood test.
I know myself. For the next few days I will take many pregnancy tests and minutely examine each of them. They will be more studied than climate change or Charlie Sheen's psychotic break. Are they getting darker? Are they getting fainter? Is that a grey evaporation line or a clearly pink line?
Julie has it right, sometimes you can be just a little bit pregnant. And that totally sucks. We're in a holding pattern and I'm kicking myself for even taking a pregnancy test this early. Pregnancy test addiction or not, it feels monumentally stupid right now.
** DPO = Days Past Ovulation
