7dp5dt: A week on the crazy train

Choo choo!  All aboard the crazy train!  No, actually, don't get on.  As much as I'd love the company, it really effing sucks here.  At least they have good snacks.

The weekend of my transfer, I was doing pretty good.  M settled me onto the couch, handed me the Xbox controller and proceeded to bring me anything I wanted.  This included copious amounts of Chicago Mix, a deliciously evil treat that I discovered in the gluten-free section of the grocery store.  For those that don't know, Chicago Mix is a delectable combination of cheese popcorn and caramel popcorn, providing the answer to all your salty/sweet cravings.  It ranks up there with my beloved Lindt 70% salted chocolate.  But don't worry, the embryo got some healthy food as well, and lots and lots of rest.  The most I moved around all weekend was to go upstairs to pee.

Monday was 2dp5dt.  Both M and I took the day off work.  I was starting to go a little stir crazy on the couch, not to mention the fact that my back and neck were feeling a little creaky from all the sitting/lying around, so Monday afternoon I found myself a nice easy pre-natal yoga workout on YouTube and went downstairs for a little stretch.  I had to fight the Little Voice a bit, as it was laughing at me for having the nerve to think of myself as "pre-natal", but I ended up feeling much better afterwards.  

Tuesday, 3dp5dt, was when things started to spiral out of control.  I think the problem was that M went back to work, while I stayed home one more day.  Despite having a dog to cuddle with, video games to play and lots of Chicago Mix to eat, for some reason I couldn't get my brain out of my uterus.  I started Googling.  You know, the usual.  "Early pregnancy symptoms", "3dp5dt symptoms", that kind of thing.  I also did something that I've never admitted to anyone before, because it's so fucking stupid and crazy.  I consulted a Magic 8 Ball.  Not even a real Magic 8 Ball, but an online version.  As if some program written by a Computer Science 101 student has the supernatural ability to somehow know whether or not I was pregnant.  And yet, when the answer came back as "My sources say no"...I felt deflated.  Defeated.  Done.  If that's not the definition of crazy, I have absolutely no idea what is.

4dp5dt, I went back to work.  Possibly the best thing I could have done at that stage.  I had plenty to catch up on, and precious little time to worry or Google.  I still managed to find some time to obsess; I mean, you didn't think I could totally control myself, did you?  HAHAHA.   You're stupid if you did.  Dummy.

Then, magically, sometime on 5dp5dt, I had a moment.  A moment of clarity, if you will, where I realized that right now I might be the most pregnant that I will ever be.  An embryo had been put inside me 5 days ago, goddammit, which by every definition meant that I was pregnant.  And I could either enjoy it, and act and think like I was pregnant, or I could spend my time in a huge funk worrying about some time in the future when I might not be pregnant anymore.  A zen-like calm settled over me.  Man, those 24 hours were the best I think I've had in my whole infertility journey.

And then poof!  The calm was gone and the crazy psycho bitch was back.  6dp5dt, and the doubts all started to creep back in.  The Little Voice started shouting at me.  "You don't actually think you could be pregnant, do you?  That's hilarious!  It's insane!  You're fooling yourself if you think that, and the sooner you can test and put yourself out of your stupid misery the better, you stupid stupid cow!  AHAHAHAHA!  You, pregnant!  I die!!!"  Just to shut that damn voice up, I probably would have tested if I'd actually had any HPTs in the house. 

Today is 7dp5dt.  The FRERs have been purchased.  I'm at least hoping I can make it through until tomorrow morning, because I've already Googled enough to know that if I get a negative I'll just wonder if it was too early, or if it was a false negative because I didn't use FMU or something.  I'm pretty confident in an 8dp5dt FMU result, and I'll at least have to whole day to mourn before having to drag my puffy cried-out eyes into the office on Monday morning. 'Cause yeah, for the record, I'm pretty confident we're heading for another BFN.  For the record, the Magic 8 Ball agrees.