The two week wait has to be one of the greatest mindfucks ever. In the early optimistic months, I would grow excited each day, believing that I would soon discover that I was pregnant. As time progressed, I adapted more of a defensive pessimistic approach, I would prepare for a negative result, hoping to be pleasantly surprised with a BFP. I even tried to tempt fate buying nearly $200 of competitive swimsuits, thinking I wouldn’t be able to wear them for very long. They are now stretched out and faded by chlorine. Even when you anticipate negative results, the sense of hope is still present until the confirmation with a BFN or arrival of AF. I would later discover that the two week wait is much easier when there is no chance of pregnancy, but AF can still find ways to mess with you.
April was our final Clomid cycle and everything seemed to be on track. Smiley faces showed up on the OPKs as scheduled and coitus was successful. Now it was time to wait. Nine days after ovulation I started feeling some mild cramping, which I knew could be signs of implantation. Husband did a google search and found a source that noted for women who don’t usually have any menstrual cramps, (which I don’t) cramping at this time was a strong indicator of implantation and impending pregnancy. It was enough to get us both excited at the possibility that this was going to be it. Our time had come! I almost shared this news with Myrtle, thinking that our pregnancies would overlap.
At last it was the day of AF’s expected arrival. I was tempted to POAS, but I wanted to wait until I was at least a day or two late and would be more certain to have a positive result. I felt nervous every time I went to the bathroom. I started staring at the toilet tissue, searching for any evidence of spotting. Husband was texting me for updates all day long. I had made it to the end of my workday with no sign of AF! I went back to the bathroom to change for yoga class. This time there was no need to examine toilet tissue. There was no mistaking AF’s arrival. I started to drive to yoga but the tears were rolling down my face by the time I arrived, so I continued driving until I got home. Husband heard my car pull into the driveway and his heart sank. He know exactly what had transpired and why I was home. I hated the fact that I was bearing such disappointing news for him too. I felt so foolish for getting encouraged over cramping. By the time I saw him I was bawling my eyes out. I decided never to go through the drama of waiting for AF again and would start to POAS each morning of AF’s expected arrival. However, I think it was the sight of me as a sobering crying mess that motivated Husband to get himself checked out.