Apparently I’m so pregnant the test’s negative line barely even shows. I would call this an official positive. I’m going to go have a heart attack now.

 

 

 

So, at the end of what I think is week three, my symptoms have thus far been:

• Acid reflux, which I have NEVER had before. I can’t eat my beloved pepperoni anymore!
• Consitpation to the point of a freaking hemmorrhoid. Another problem I’ve NEVER had before.
• Very nearly puking
• Lightheadedness
• Getting breathless going up the stairs
• Having a severe aversion to the smell of cooking beef. Could it smell any worse?!?
• Feeling as if I have the flu, complete with sneezing, runny nose and sore throat.
• Backache. Which, in all fairness, could be due to having to sleep on 3 pillows because of the acid reflux.
• Constant thirst leading to…
• Half my day spent peeing or needing to pee
• Bloating, like on a period only much, much worse.
• Being so dead tired I’m already ready to go to bed and I only awoke 4.5 hours ago.

I’m looking forward to these getting worse….Riiiiiiiiight. I’m honestly worried about why my symptoms are so strong, so early. If this is a sign of how the rest of this pregnancy is going to be, I’ll gleefully take it while in a coma, thankyouverymuch.

On October 17th, I got my brand new Punky Pads in the mail. WOOHOO! I had made the decision to go cloth. I’d also purchased my DivaCup, which was set to arrive the next day. I thought this was a little foolish on my part from the beginning, as I have hypothyroidism and never know if my period will ever return. I was around a month late at that point, and was wishful thinking.

That evening, I started spotting as if my period was coming. Another WOOHOO! I could start using my pads immediately. Knowing very well that my period is less like a period and more like a violent string of exclaimation points, I popped on an overnight cloth pad and Eric & I headed to bed.

The next morning, there was nothing there. Not even a spot. I ignored it, cleaned my clean pad, soaked my clean pad and put on another. A few periodless hours later, I walked to the mailbox and got my DivaCup. Being terribly excited, I boiled it then tried it on immediately. Well, more like fought with it for 2 hours before getting it into a place where it didn’t feel like it was cutting my vagina in half and where it wouldn’t pop out when I bent over. I spent the next few hours with it on. I forgot it was there, until it was time for bed and time to remove it.

It got stuck. Yup, it got stuck. My vagina had become some sort of suctioning, cavernous hole that inhaled my DivaCup. I spent another 45 minutes bearing down and pulling it out with my finger nails. It was more than anti-climactic as there was more blood on my hand than there was in the cup – which held exactly one half of a half of a drop. I put on another pad, then Eric and I headed to bed, once again.  (By the way, the disappearing of the DivaCup was entirely my fault for not installing it correctly. Frustrating, nevertheless.)

Eric was set to leave at 3, but I got him all caught up in “Quiz Show”, installing the new thermostat with my dad supervising, and playing endless backgammon with my dad endlessly talking shit…because that’s what he does. You hear a lot of, “Duece duece duece…Oh yeah!” Midway through the 4th rematch, I decided to take the damn test. My period wasn’t acting right, and I knew I’d need to go to my GYN to discuss it. She always asked if I’d taken a test before coming, so I decided I’d get that out of the way.

I peed in the cup, I used the dropper to suction it up, I dripped it into the little blue hole, and glanced back and forth at it as I finished up. Within 30 seconds, a faint pink line showed up…which just kept getting darker, and it wasn’t the control line. This is the point where I stopped breathing.

I returned downstairs, after 15 minutes of hyperventilating in the bathroom, and began hyperventilating again sitting at my computer. I made some excuse about diarrhea and psyllium, and ran back upstairs to freak out a little longer.

I came back downstairs and told Eric he’d need to come upstairs and help me install a flibberty goggit on my computers whosiewhatsit. At least, that’s what it sounded like to me. I just needed to get him upstairs to see that damn test.

So, I won’t go through the long, drawn out freak out. I’ll shorten it.
Me: AHHHHH
Him: How could that be possible, I wasn’t here. That line is light. Is it supposed to be light?
Me: AHHHHHHH!
Him: It’ll be okay.
Me: UGH! YOU SUCK!
Then we made inside baby jokes while cooking dinner, and wrote out a list of probable expenses.

Since one test can always be very wrong, we ran to King Soopers to pick up another. I took the other DollarTree one, and saved the KS one for Sunday.

My family is prone to miscarriages and I don’t want to get my hopes too high until it’s positive for a few days, with a different type of test. If it’s still positive Sunday, I’ll make my appointment with my GYN for Tuesday.

This is fucking nuts.