By tomorrow, I meant at the end of the month

I'm sorry. I've been here waiting for the other shoe to drop. It hasn't. So, I think it's time for an update. The 2WW was harrowing. It always is, isn't it? And given that we ended up doing IVF I really believe there was a greater purpose in doing years and years of natural cycles and wasting time on IUIs. And I believe that purpose was to teach me to how to deal with the 2WW.

The first week wasn't so bad. We were busy. At this point, because it's been nearly a month, I don't remember the specifics of what we were doing. Oh wait...yes I do. And I've blocked it. We were preparing for the most obnoxious Enrichment Activity ever! For those who are not LDS, it was a church thing. We were preparing 72 hour kits for use during emergencies. And I got stuck with...uhh, I mean volunteered for the hygiene kits. And people signed up for 175 kits. And in the days after my embryo transfer when I was supposed to be on bedrest, Paul went to every WalMart, Target, Walgreens, and a few others to purchase supplies for the blessed activity to the tune of $1100. And then we assembled. It was ugly. You can see why I blocked it. Paul deserves the husband of the year award for this alone. It was my responsibility and I neglected it because it was annoying. And because I hate Enrichment. And he took care of everything. Seriously, husband of the year should go to Paul. You have no idea. This wasn't supposed to be an Enrichment rant, so I'll stop now. And after the Enrichment stuff I don't really remember what we did for the next few days.

But then Paul had to leave town. And things got a little hairier after that. First of all, on Sunday, I gagged while brushing my teeth. You see, these are the evils of the 2WW. Suddenly, we want to give meaning to each and every symptom, if you can even call them symptoms, our body creates. Or rather, the hormones that we are being pumped with makes. I never gag while brushing my teeth. I had braces for five years. And very painful oral surgery. Things in my mouth don't make me gag. Ever. Except for the Sunday prior to my beta. Now, my beta was on Friday so this is still quite a bit of time to go still. And hope began to creep in. Now, I should mention that the 2WW crazies were multiplied a bit. A friend cycled with me, and her beta was the same day as mine. And we fed off of each other. But I would like it noted for the read that she caved and POAS earlier than I did. She did it on Monday. And I didn't do it until Tuesday. And as a result after Tuesday I felt like garbage because it was glaringly negative. It was too early. And for crying out loud, I know better. Wednesday we went to Hobbs to return only to return late Thursday night. And I spent the better part of the next two days losing all hope. We were driving back into town on Thursday night at midnight when I insisted that he take me to WalMart for some more of the evil pee sticks. Because apparently I don't torture myself enough. And even though, I should have been exhausted enough to sleep for two days, I couldn't sleep.

There is a scene in "Sex and the City" where Carrie is anticipating her big first date with Berger. And she says to one of the girls, "I think we're going to be very happy together." She then follows that statement with, "I love that time before the first date, when you can make statements like that and almost believe them." This is how most of the 2WW felt. In fact, my whole cycle felt like that. The hope that builds is a strange thing. You don't even realize how much it's growing until it's almost over. And I've never felt such desperation in my entire life. Pleading with the powers that be to not let my dream die. There was no way this was going to work. Why would it? Certainly others are more deserving than I. It was like I was just sitting, waiting, and forced to watch the death of the most pure, righteous wish I've ever had. So sleep eluded me. I won't ever forget the feeling of anxiety that I had prior to my beta.

I slept lightly. Again, a huge rarity for me. And woke promptly at 6:45am without an alarm. I crept into the living room where the WalMart bag had been dropped and dug out the box. Like the eternal pessimist that I am, I had purchased the three pack. I always do. I know they'll get used. And somehow my trembling hands managed to open the box and tear the package all without waking Paul. I needed to deal with the BFN that I was forecasting for myself. All alone. I certainly couldn't do it on the phone when the nurse calls to deliver the news. I was able to do that with my IUIs but this time the stakes were so much higher. So I sat in my bathroom wide awake staring at the wall for the obligatory two minutes to pass. And much to my shock, when I turned to accept defeat and failure once again, there were two lines. Two glorious lines staring back up at me. There are those that have been tortured by the evil HPT's. This day, it couldn't have been clearer. There was no denying it. It wasn't an evaporation line. It wasn't a ghost line that faded later. It was a real true second line. I can't begin to describe the surprise so, I won't even try. I crept back into bed, cuddled around Paul, and whispered to ask if he was yet awake. There is something magical about telling your spouse that you're pregnant. And I'll save the details. They're too raw and too personal to share but I can count the times on one hand I've ever felt such joy.

We ran into the lab for bloodwork and sat to wait again. What would the bloodwork reveal? All hopes now are for a strong beta. The call came at 11:26am. It was Trish. I was nervous. My heart was pounding. And there was too much of an echo. Until I realized that the whole office staff had been gathered to call me so they could all congratulate me. It was another powerful, wonderful moment. I love my RE's office. They've held my hand. And listened to me cry. And explained procedures. And they called to deliver the good news about a strong beta of 79. Relief washed over me.

The journey begins...