It’s 9 DPO. That, for me, means I’m over halfway done with the TWW and soon to start seeing the tell- tale signs of my impending monthly flow or… Something else.
The past few months, this is the day I start to cave on testing. I normally can’t make it to 10 DPO with out peeing on a stick, since you read so many success stories of BFP’s(big fat positives) at such an early juncture. But I’m afraid this month… Mostly because I want to believe that it is our month, that I’m newly pregnant and that somehow, an early BFN would just shatter that hope and make my baby disappear.
I realize this is crazy. I truly do. I can’t help it, honestly.
I have been less obsessed this month. Maybe the whole being crazy busy with work helps. As I type this, I mentally note some low, dull cramps– so maybe I’m not less obsessed after all. Every moment seems one optimized for symptom spotting. Every second seems to remind me of how much I want this, how special every holiday season from this moment on will become because this is the one where I’m pregnant. Knowing that I have to take the next few months off of TTC (no August – October due dates for me!) means waiting until basically march. It breaks my heart to think of having to go through all this… The roller coaster, the heartbreak of negatives… All over again for however many months just kills me. I pray to God that somehow the miracle happened this month. That I have a viable pregnancy and a healthy baby.
I feel like these last days of the TWW are somehow the hardest. In the beginning, anything is possible. At 9DPO, when you have a 13 day luteal phase, you know you’re pretty much running out of time. If implantation has not happened by tomorrow, the uterine lining will start its slow degradation. The corpus lutetium will begin its end. Implantation will be too late in an unhappy environment.
I pray my baby implanted on 7 DPO. I pray I’m pregnant. Only time will tell, now.