Heavy-Hearted

I am not a patient person, and if there is information to be had, I'd rather have it earlier than later, especially if it means I can avoid getting bad news from someone else.

So that's why I pee on sticks. I figure that if it's good news, then I have that much extra time to be happy, and if it's bad news, then I have the chance to adjust to it and move on that much sooner.

This is all a long way of saying it's bad news. I actually went out and bought the fancy, super-easy-to-read, super-early-detection tests. At 7dt5dt, it's still very, very negative. While hope has not entirely left the building, she's got her bags packed and is on her way to the door. I've never had a viable pregnancy when I didn't have a positive by 10dpo (today's 12 dpo, for the record), and my extensive googling reveals only "friend of my cousin's best-friend" stores about women with negative HPT at this stage who went on to have actual, healthy pregnancies. So I'm pretty sure at this point that I am not pregnant.

(although, should I get the shock of my life after my Beta on Wednesday, I will gladly invite you all to gather 'round, call me names, and administer virtual smacks about the head).

And now that I have an answer, I'm free to talk about the stuff I didn't dare say before, in case I jinxed things. Like how I was secretly absolutely 100% sure, going into transfer day, that this cycle was going to work. Like how my due date if we got pregnant would be December 2, the day after M's birthday. Like how transfer day was 3/17, the same day as my LMP when I was pregnant with M. Like how beta day this cycle is the same day of the month on which M was conceived. Like how this was my very last chance to have a baby in 2008.

I'm not going to lie or sugar-coat things. Today, I'm really, really sad. Tomorrow I will work on being positive and making lemonade and all that shit. Today, I'm going to cry.