The wait

The two week wait is never easy.  Even when I am scrambling day in and day out to keep the house clean for showings, taking a happy-one-minute-screaming-the-next toddler from activity to activity, hosting twenty plus family members from around the country and slowly organizing our house for the big move, still, I know the days, minutes and seconds until my period should arrive.

I took a new approach this month. I threw out the OPK (ovulation predictor kits), ignored the no-caffeine, no alcohol policy and exercised how I wanted. We had sex around the time I should have ovulated but skipped the twice a day. I did keep up the twice a week acupuncture and daily herbs. DH even went to the acupuncturist per her instructions. I maintained my positive, healthy attitude gained from the Julie Indichova books. If it will be, it will be. I don’t want to do IVF. I can do this naturally.  I believe in my body and know its capable of nurturing a healthy child.

Then as usual, my body starts f**king with me. My cervical mucous seemed more fertile around day 19, very late for me who usually ovulates on day 14. Two days later on day 21, I woke up with a pain in my pelvis, sign of ovulation. Then a few days later, my breasts started to feel tender. Before termination but now it happens before AF comes. 

So for a week, my mind jumps from hope to despair. I am tired, I think I am pregnant. My boobs hurt. Could go either way. I don’t even dare look at my boobs close up. If they are veiny and bigger, I am pregnant. If they are not, well maybe every pregnancy is different. I am not spotting. I usually spot a few days before AF. Good sign but I ovulated late. I don’t want to think about this but each twinge, yawn or visit to the bathroom invites speculation. I allow myself to hope then remind myself of the despair that will come with one drop of blood.

Its day 28. DH and I anxiously awaiting offers on our house and AF. So far, there are three offers to review and no AF.  Two more days and I will POAS.