Goddamnit, I’m weak. Weak of mind. I have still been enjoying the hopeful possibility of right now, but I’ve also been obsessing over every detail. I’m super tired every day? A sign. I have a weird patch of eczema-like scaly skin around my mouth? A sign. The fact that this is the month in which Mother’s Day, my parents’ and my in-laws’ wedding anniversaries, Manny’s birthday, and probably lots of other important sign-y events fall? A sign. Constant hunger and ability to eat literally twice as many Korean short ribs as Manny the other night? A sign. Occasional heartburn? A sign. The fact that I have yet to have any other symptoms? A sign. The fact that I just planted a WHOLE SCHWACK-LOAD OF SEEDS IN MY FERTILE, WELL-CARED-FOR, ORGANIC GARDEN? A serious mother-fucking sign.
Never mind reason, never mind the fact that every single one of these facts can easily be explained away, except my face-plague, which could be down to me having eaten eggs a few times last week, or my delicious home-made granola which I’ve been eating every single day since I made it last Sunday, but I don’t know why that would be the problem, unless I’ve suddenly developped an allergy to something I was never allergic to before. But if I did, that’s probably a sign.
Bloody hell, friends. I’m making myself mental. I got 5 free home pregnancy tests when I ordered my OPKs online, and they would all be pee-soaked by now if I thought it would do me any good.
All your wonderful wishes and advice on surviving the 2ww have been fantastic. Except didn’t someone say that it’s really the second week that is the worst? If that turns out to be true in my case, I am so utterly fucked.
My clinic will do a blood draw on day 35, which is next Saturday, provided I haven’t got my period by then. I didn’t ask if they do day 35 because that’s how long my cycles usually are, or if that’s just coincidentally the day they do them. Almost certainly the former. But my wait-addled mind is taking it as a sign anyway.
