Last night, before bed, my husband and I were talking about how I’d probably test in the morning, since I’d be 13 dpo and my beta was schedule for Thursday. I like to know ahead of the nurses call, since I don’t want to cry on the phone while I’m at work. (Side note: last time, even though I knew it was negative, I still burst into tears after I got off the phone with the nurse. Why? Because she was so nice about it. The tone of her voice and that sickly sweet “I’m so sorry to tell you” shot me right through the heart. It’s *good* she was nice, but it also made me so emotional. Though I am not saying I want her to have no emotion, because that is awful in a whole separate way.) I guess what I’m saying is I was thinking about testing.
So when I woke up an hour before my alarm and I had to pee, I laid there thinking about getting up and testing now, or dozing a bit more. The next thing I knew, I was up, in my bathroom, dipping my pee strip. Before I could even put it on the counter to wait 5 minutes, the whole thing was awash in pink lines. Two bold, beautiful dark pink lines emerged. I felt overjoyed and like this weight was lifted off my shoulders. Finally, there it is. I tearfully told my husband the good news. The overwhelming happiness I felt was intense. And then, I woke up to my alarm. The crushing disappointment that it was a dream hit me like an anvil in the chest. I thought to myself, maybe it was foreshadowing. I went to the bathroom, tested for real this time, and refused to look at the strip for 5 minutes. I played on my phone while sitting there and then brushed my teeth, all while ignoring the strip. After 5 minutes, I looked down. One line, the rest the starkest white you have ever seen.
IUI #4 has failed.