All y’all fertiles out there who know me in real life – STEP AWAY from the cell phone and delete that celebratory email you just started typing. What is happening on the HPTs requires a good bit of squinting meaning we shall not celebrate, throw confetti, plague me with early a.m. phone calls or blow my phone up with texts. Thankyouverymuch.
Last night (oh yes, I’ve been peeing on expensive things twice a day) the HPT looked blank at first glance. Being the
obsessive good infertile I am, I exchanged my old contacts for new glasses (through which I can see like a 60 year-old woman vs. my contacts that make it more like I’m a 70 year-old woman) and then held the HPT up to my good eye (ole’ lefty) for closer inspection. Yup, there was a hair of a squinter. I’m talking so squinty it would not have shown up on a photograph.
“Hey, Professor, do you see a squinter?” I asked as I handed him a freshly peed on pee stick.
“Belle… should you be peeing on things yet?”
“Uhhhh, I’ve been peeing on things for days. Oh, and I’m peeing on expensive things so be prepared for the rash of Target purchases on the next credit card statement.”
“Heh, I do see a squinter… Neato!”
“Let’s not get too excited,” I reminded.
“Let’s not,” he agreed.
We then spent an hour on the couch in giddy, awkward silence. OHMYGAH! SQUINTER!
As I went to bed I said goodnight to my husband, the purring bundle of fur at my feet and my embryos.
This morning we have a slightly darker squinter that shows up on camera, but I’m not quite brave enough to post photos of squinters so I’ll hold out a bit more.
Hugs and kisses tiny babies. Please stick around for, like, the rest of my life.