Please God, Prove Me Wrong

This week has been exhausting.  Physically and emotionally, I'm just worn out.  And, I don't think there's anything worse than getting PIO shots than when you're not even pregnant.

This cycle, I told myself from the very beginning that I would POAS early.  I obviously hoped and prayed that I would be one of those women who sees two lines at 5 or 6dp5dt.  And, I convinced myself that even if there was only one line, that I'd be better off just knowing than holding onto so much (false) hope.  Twice in the past, I didn't POAS at all - and learning that I'm not pregnant (for the first time) from someone else is excruciating.  Both times, I could barely talk to my doctor when she called with the news because I was so focused on just being able to breathe.  I've also waited to POAS until the day before or the morning of my BETA.  I don't believe that there's any "right" way to handle when to find out and so, I just try to go with my gut.  When I want to test, I do.  And when I want to wait to test, I wait.  So... this time, I tested on  6 and 7dp5dt (Wednesday and Thursday).  Both times, the pee stick clearly had one line.  I, for the most part, knew what my fate was with this cycle.  When I found out, I was obviously devastated, but I haven't really 'lost it' as of yet.  I haven't cried my eyes out yet.  Sure, I've shed tears.  Sure, I've pleaded with God to just somehow give me an answer as to why this didn't work... again.  But for some reason, I've handled this better than I've ever handled a failed cycle before.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe I'm just used to single line pee sticks.  Maybe I'm just used to getting bad news.  Maybe, deep down, I didn't think that this FET was going to work anyway.  Or, maybe, I still have hope that tomorrow's BETA will make me regret ever saying that I don't believe in miracles.

*I tested again this morning (10dp5dt) and still, there is only one line.

I'm worried about tomorrow, though.  I always, always, take the day of my BETA off from work (or, I at least work from home).  I know that I need the utmost privacy of being able to answer my phone and talk to my doctor about my next steps without someone overhearing any part of my phone conversation.  I also know that I need to be able to let it all out - cry, yell, etc. - and it's hard to do that when I'm at work.  But, as luck would (not) have it, tomorrow is the first day of my company's National Sales Meeting.  Thankfully, the conference is taking place locally, in Boston.  But, rather than sitting on my couch bracing myself for the most gut wrenching news and confirmation that I'm not pregnant, I'll have to slip out from a packed conference room and whisper to my doctor on the phone in a corridor of a hotel, trying desperately to mask the tears that will surely stream down my face. I fear, that because of this conference, I won't let it all out.  That the anger, sadness and heart ache will be suppressed inside of me for another whole week, which I know is anything but healthy.  I know that my heart won't heal until I fully grieve what should have been my tenth and eleventh babies.

As silly as this may be, I'll continue to pray for a miracle tomorrow, knowing full well that transfer number five will most definitely not be the one to make us a mommy and a daddy.

Please God, prove me wrong.