So not only have I given in to my
need obsession to POAS ever since about 6dpiui, but I’ve found a new supplier to provide them to me at a much reduced rate of…you guessed it – a dollar. DollarTree HPTs rock if you’re trying to placate that urge to mark your territory and feel like you’re doing something semi-useful during the TWW. It helps me satisfy my serious desire to see something, anything, while remaining much more affordable than if I were using the ones I’ve used in the past. Yes, I’m still getting BFNs – duh!
I’m now 10dpiui, and did my daily POAS episode on el cheapo $Tree HPT. It’s a BFN again today. Sigh. Still, as long as AF doesn’t show, I’m a happy camper. I can still hope.
I really do know that it would’ve been highly unusual for me to see anything remotely positive before this. Still, there’s a touch of the windmill-tilting insane optimist within the confines of my person. Who knew?? I keep imagining that I’ll be one of those oh-so-fortunate ladies who POAS after only 8- or 9dpo and get that beloved BFP. After all, I stand just as good a chance as any other PCOS-ridden 40-year-old, right?
** ALERT: mention of potentially uncomfortable subject to follow. Scoot down to the ~Change of subject~, if you desire.
Sigh. It’s days like today that make me really wish I didn’t work in high school. As I was walking through the hall towards the teacher’s lounge, I happened to overhear a couple of 16-year-old girls talking. I wish to hell I hadn’t. One of them was telling the other one, “Man, if my mom finds out that I’m pregnant, she’ll kill me. I going to get rid of it this weekend. I don’t want it, anyways.”
I have to say that I died a little inside upon hearing her annoyed comment, and not being able to spill my guts to her, about how the “thing” she wants to dispose of as if it meant nothing would mean everything to someone in my shoes. Someone who has been trying to be blessed with her problem for nearly eight years now. It was all I could do to not yell at her, and tell her how many couples I know of (mostly from the internet, mind you) who would love to be “burdened” with her condition, no matter how inconvenient it is. I soooo wanted to tell her of the thousands of dollars, countless hours of pure angst and devastating heartbreak that many, many people subject themselves to, all in the interest of becoming laden with the similar circumstances as she…only to never attain that lofty goal. Or, worse yet, have nature perform a similar procedure as what this young woman was choosing to do to her own offspring. Okay, it’s similar, as in the outcome’s the same…a precious life taken before it’s time. But, I had to remain mute, and continue to walk away…tears blurring my vision. Like I said, today wasn’t the best day to be a teacher of teenagers. Ready to peruse something a little less vitriolic, yet??
~~Change of Subject~~
My follow-up appointment is this next Tuesday, April 1st. It would be really ironic and hilarious if I got to tell F he’s going to be a daddy on April Fool’s Day. He wouldn’t believe me this time either, I bet. Heh.
Back on that same day in 2005, I managed to fall while walking across the street in San Antonio. I was in that beautiful city because I was attending an TESOL Conference. I broke my left elbow, sprained my right arm, right elbow, and both wrists. I know – graceful, huh? Anyway, after going to the emergency room, and walking out with both arms in slings, I called my clueless husband to tell him, and so that we could figure out how I was going to get me, my stuff, and my manual transmission car back home ASAP.
I’ve always been known for my Bad Timing, and this was no exception. I called my husband right after his sister and niece had pulled a nasty April Fool’s joke on him. I mean, he’d literally just hung up the phone with them, and was still fuming about it.
So, here’s how that particular conversation went, with the names altered just a wee bit “to protect the innocent”:
Me: F? Honey? I have some bad news. I was in an accident.
F: What?? Are you okay?
Me: Uh, no. I fell and broke both of my elbows.
F: Yeah, April Fool’s – I get it. You’re not funny, you know.
Me: No, I’m serious. I really did do it, crossing the street. I’m sitting here now, at the WalMart Pharmacy, waiting for my pain pills.
F: Seriously, vamplita, it’s not funny. I’m not buying it, so knock it off, already.
Me: I know it’s not funny, F. I wouldn’t kid about this. I’m serious as a heart attack. I need you to come get me.
F: That’s not funny, damn it! vamplita, you’d better not be screwing with me. If I find out you’re lying to me, I swear, I’ll break your arms myself.
He then proceeded to tell me of how our niece had called him, pretending to be pregnant, and that his sister confirmed what our niece had told him. They had him completely convinced that it was true, and after about 25 minutes of him trying to console his supposedly-distraught sister, they finally told him it was a joke. As soon as he got off that call, more than a little pissed about his own family being so cruel to him, I called with this news. Small wonder he thought I was trying to pull his leg again.
So, it would be more than amusing for me to try to break the news of a pregnancy to him on that day, of all days. God, I hope I get to!!