But I don’t feel pregnant…

Yeah, I stopped feeling pregnant on Sunday.

Saturday was the first night I really slept since my transfer (and having to give up Melatonin). I finally broke down and bought some Benadryl, which, thankfully, is permitted during pregnancy, and slept like a log all night long.

And when I woke up on Sunday, all my symptoms were gone. Apparently they weren’t pregnancy symptoms; they were signs of exhaustion.

It’s a shame, really, since I was convinced all day Saturday that the sharp and stabbing pains in my uterus where probably related to implantation. My husband and I spent the day toodling along the small towns on the northern part of the Delaware River (in Pennsylvania and New Jersey). It was a lovely day, with beautiful weather, and we realized it was the first time in several weeks that we’d spent the day alone together just enjoying ourselves. We ended our trip eating at the best Thai restaurant in the universe (ok, maybe not in the universe, but it’s damn good—the chicken coconut soup is an orgasm in a bowl). It was a great day, made even better by these occasional stabbing pains that boded so well for the future.

I managed to not think about testing, not once. I’d thought I was going to test for the first time Sunday, but I didn’t, and I didn’t today either. With any luck, I’ll make it until Wednesday, at which point I’ll be bitterly disappointed and won’t cry when the IVF nurse calls with my beta results on Friday.

I think my Hope Addict ditched me in New Hope, one of the towns we visited on Saturday. She was all like, “See ya! This town is NAMED for me!”

My husband (you know, the one who used to believe that the end of the world is coming and we deserve it?) continues to be positive and believes I am pregnant. He’s even willing to spend $70 on a cleaning lady since I can’t vacuum until after Friday’s test (he would vacuum, except that he sucks at it, and I won’t let him) and since we have five cats and a dog, vacuuming CAN NOT WAIT another five days or we won’t be able to actually enter our house for all the fur. Maybe I can get the doctor to say I can’t clean next week either…

In other good news, my ass has decided it hates the progesterone in oil shots, and has exploded into giant hot red welts that itch like a motherfucker (benadryl at night or no). This only started on Saturday, after I’d already been getting the shots for ten days. When I asked a nurse about it, she asked me if I’d started a new bottle (I had) and told me to come in and get it looked at.

Ironically, after having so many people hanging out in my vagina, I feel oddly shy about having to go see a nurse to have her check out my large and flabby ass.

I have only briefly considered the possibility that my new allergic reaction to the shots could be because of the various changes a body goes through when it’s pregnant. I swear.

I continue to have weird stabbing pains or low aches in my uterus even now as I’m typing this. I think possibly Hope has returned, revived and refreshed from her trip up river.

Friday (beta day) is a really long ass ways away, isn’t it?