I know I've said about a thousand times in the past few weeks that, even if it turns out we're not pregnant this cycle, I'll still consider it a success. Along with that comes the realization that the world will not end if I get a negative beta (and while that may sound like a small thing to most people, for me it's huge. Before we started having all the difficulties with my cycle, I really thought I'd die if IVF didn't work on the first try. I was such a fool.).
So of course, I thought I'd be good and calm about the 2ww (which is actually only a 9-day wait, post-transfer). Sure, I had an elaborate plan for when I'd pee on sticks -- every other day, starting this past Sunday and continuing until I got the BFN that meant the trigger was out of my system, then the "real" test at 11 DPO (aka 6dp5dt). (I think it goes without saying that there's no way I was going to wait until my blood test next Wednesday, right?) But really, I figured I'd be sanguine for at least a few days.
Which does not explain why I'm sitting here, 3dp5dt, convinced that I'm not pregnant. As planned, I got my negative HPT today. This is normal and right and fine, and still, it bugs me a little bit. Every rational fiber of my being knows it's way too early for me to know anything, but yet I'm poking at my chest constantly, waiting for that reassuring stab of pain (which is weird, considering that I never had sore breasts in my last two pregnancies, even when they were still viable). I have no twinges elsewhere in my body to analyze, but again, I never have had symptoms very early. I have no idea why I'm expecting them now, and interpreting the absence of same as bad news.
Maybe it's self-protection. After all, I know darn well that I have only a 50-50 shot of actually having gotten pregnant this cycle, so I may as well prepare myself for the less favorable option. But I've also made a concerted effort to think positive. I've spent a fortune in time staring at the photos of the embryos they transferred, willing them to be burrowing into my body for the duration. And just in case that ridiculous "Secret" book is right, I also try silently telling myself "you ARE pregnant. You WILL have a baby in nine months."
Realistically speaking, I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do to influence our outcome at this point. And I also know that we're luckier than some -- we have frozen embryos to transfer if necessary, as well as the means and ability to do a second fresh cycle. So I shouldn't really be obsessing, right?
Tell that to my abused breasts.