It is remarkable how much progesterone suppositories mimic early pregnancy symptoms. I carefully guard my heart by keeping a stern grip on my hope. Hope is seductive and dangerous. Too much hope results in cycles of devastation and despair. Too little hope robs one of joy and…well…hope. As one commentor once said, If we don’t have hope, why are we doing this?
So, I like to walk the tightrope between pragmatism and hope, but these suppositories are making me keel starboard onto the side of hope. I don’t like it. Early pregnancy symptoms are a pain in the ass. No one likes a racing heart and hypoglycemia. At 8 DPO it would be way to early to begin feeling these sensations as a result of a pregnancy. That’s the pragmatic voice speaking up. However, the voice of hope started whispering incessantly in my ear to POAS early this morning. ”Do it! Do it! Do it!”, was the chant echoing through the empty vaults of my unused brain.
The chanting was so persuasive, despite my pragmatic self reciting a litany of reasons as to why the test would be negative, but I became hopeful. ”What if? What if? What if?”, she screamed. The cacophony was so loud that I could not be dissuaded. So I tested with diluted mid-afternoon urine at 8 DPO. Of course it was negative.
I’m hoping to steer clear of hope’s siren song by not testing again until Friday at 10 DPO with FMU. Wish me luck.