It's six days after my day five transfer (6dp5dt) of two blastocysts into my womb. I feel tired and emotional. I feel wiped. I don't feel particularly hopeful.
This morning, I caved and took a home pregnancy test (HPT) and it was a big, fat negative (BFN). I know that it was early, and I could get a positive by peeing on a stick (POAS) tomorrow or Tuesday or in my blood test on Wednesday. However, I just feel incredibly defeated. It doesn't help that we're creeping up on the anniversary of my miracle pregnancy and miscarriage. The feelings I'm having are bringing back a whole host of nasty feelings from last year, too.
I'm trying to focus on my head, which says there's still a chance. I'm not being very successful at convincing my hormonal heart, though.
After my BFN, I decided to go back to bed. I had dreams about positive pregnancy tests that felt real. I almost got up and POAS again to see if maybe I had just done it wrong the first time. It was a little devastating.
At church, there were two baptisms and confirmation, both milestones I hope to celebrate someday with my children. The closing song was "This Little Light of Mine". I couldn't choke out the words, lest I burst into tears in the fourth row of a very crowded sanctuary.
I am going to take a nap, get my work down, and pray that tomorrow morning will yield two pink lines.
Hang in there and don't lose faith! You really do need that blood test to know for sure. Praying for success!
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