I woke up at 5:45 this morning, 45 minutes before my alarm, and decided to just take my temperature and get up and pee. Temp was a cycle-high 98.34°, and once I jotted the number down, I woke N up, as he said he wanted me to when it was pee time. I love this man. And so I peed, a little bit in a cup for my cheap-but-sensitive dipstick, and then the rest on an e.p.t. And both tests...were negative. Nothing. Sigh.
I still have not yet gotten my period (I cannot get myself to refer to it as Aunt Flo, or even her initials, unless commenting on someone's blog who calls it that, so do forgive the uneuphemistic nomenclature). A dear friend who miscarried last year before conceiving her beautiful daughter told me recently that her first cycle back was extremely long, and that she wished her doctor had told her ahead of time that that might happen, so that she could have stopped wondering if she were pregnant. Seems as though that's where I am. As you all have told me, 13dpo is a good time for testing, and so it looks like no baby this month.
N sent me a text after he got up later in the morning, saying: "I had a dream that one of the pregnancy tests changed to positive after you left. Actually it notified me by email. Very high tech." And that made me sad. He really wants this, too. Which I knew, but this made it more concrete; his dreams were creeping into his dreams.
So...don't know where that leaves me. Waiting again, I guess. I was really hopeful this month. No particular reason, but it felt good for a little while. Thank you all for your kindness and positivity. I think I'm going to go drive home and cry.
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