My period is due today.
My morning temperature was a nice, warm 98.5.
My pregnancy test this morning had a lovely dark line.
Not even the faintest hint of spotting (and I check carefully EVERY time I visit the bathroom).
I can use the ‘P’ word for the first time.
I still can’t really believe it.
As you can imagine, I’ve been comparing each morning’s test practically under a microscope to determine whether or not I think my HCG levels are rising appropriately (I think they are).
Tomorrow I will call the doctor and make an appointment to see him at 5 weeks. My notes say I should go in for an early scan for any subsequent pregnancies, so at around 6 weeks I’ll be hoping for that enormous milestone – a heartbeat.
And I’ve tried so hard, so hard not to get excited, not to think about what the future might hold, but I can’t help it! I can’t!
It feels like life is moving again, like cogs are turning and engines are grinding into life, and the train is slowly inching out of the station into the morning sun and heading off on a journey I’ve wanted to make for so long yet haven’t been able to.
The absolute limbo I have felt I have been in for over two years (months of deciding if I had the courage and strength to go through another birth and 22 months of actually trying to get to one), is suddenly melting away. I have SO MUCH I WANT TO DO.
There is a loft bursting with baby stuff, there is a spare room left un-purposed since I dismantled and removed the cot after my miscarriage in 2012, there are cupboards to sort out and there is space to find. There is healthy eating to be done and exercise plans to be made, weight charts to be started and indulgent shopping to be commenced. There are cobwebs to be brushed away, wounds to be healed, and life waiting to burst forth.
I feel so motivated, so determined, so unbelievably READY to do this that all I can do is surrender to the feeling and ask that the universe doesn’t take this away from me.
Not this time – please.