I’d ride off into the sunset brandishing a positive pregnancy stick. Well, grasping it, and also desperately trying to hold on to the horse and probably yelling, which would undoubtedly aggravate the horse… I’m not an accomplished rider, is what I’m trying to say.
Wait, no. I think I am not pregnant, is what I am trying to say.
Granted, it is only 11dpo, and still no sign of my period (which, given a usual 9-10 day LP means the progesterone is doing something useful). Granted, I only got a true negative on a test as of today, after persistent, varying positives from the trigger up to 10 dpo yesterday. (and if I squint, and cock my head, and wish on a fairy flying by, isn’t there maybe the faintest shadow of a line on this test? but then wouldn’t that also be trigger?).
In short, it turns out seeing positive pregnancy tests bred the uncomfortable realization that I am deeply invested in this process, and capable of ridiculous levels of unconstrained hope (I did not realize either of these before). Have I forgotten we had bad IUI timing? No, but it does not seem to make a lick of difference to my brain.
I’ll post my trigger progression later, once I have an end result, so you can all marvel in the non-linear diminishing of hCG levels. If my body were an experiment, the noise would be greater than the signal, and it would have to be discarded.
I like my body though, so I think I’ll keep it, and maybe skip peeing on tests from here on out now that I have a relative timeline to follow (I’m going with pre-12dpo = not reliable).