One more sleep ...
mean. Perhaps it's more a hint of a feeling.
Emotionally, there's a small ember of hope glowing in my lap. Enough
hope to get me through these last days of waiting.
Perhaps I'm imagining things. Perhaps all the chocolate I've eaten the
past days is collecting there. Perhaps it's a side effect of the
suppositories. But, perhaps ...
I haven't dared put the thought into words, not here, not to my
husband, as if doing so would make it go away again.
But since tomorrow is testing day, I thought I'd risk it.
So fragile is my hope, that I've avoided looking back in my archives,
to see whether I felt like this before. What I remember of the last
two cycles is that I felt absolutely nothing. What I remember of being
pregnant with Linnea is that I didn't feel much until later.
Will hoping now make a negative hurt more tomorrow? I doubt it.
Probably I'll just feel foolish for having let myself get carried
away. So be it. At least I've spent the difficult days of waiting
daydreaming slightly more than despairing.
P.S. I guess yesterday's post was very recognizable, judging from the
replies. True enough, it's a recurring theme on my blog and on many
blogs. Which is one of the reasons I almost didn't post yesterday. Is
it really necessary to repeat again?
The second reason I almost didn't post, is because I prefer not to
draw outside attention to myself. Then again, I presume Mel's target
audience is genuinely interested in learning more about infertility.