Well the verdict is in.
Urine – negative.
Beta HCG – negative.
I asked what the level was. 1-5 is considered not pregnant, 5-20 is considered possible pregnant, re-test, above 25 is pregnant.
My level? <1.
So I can safely conclude that the pound shops tests were shite and their manufacturers are bastards.
I have a bit of rage going on about the whole thing, not least because I texted my hubby to tell him the news and that I was quite upset and he responded with “I think I have a mouth ulcer, it’s really sore. Do we have any bonjela at home?”
So I am big fat back to square one and even more annoyed with myself because I haven’t taken my temperature or any of the agnus castus or evening primrose oil or anything (apart from folic acid) for the last few days.
I feel like a proper fool.
I’m really beginning to think that maybe I do need to wean my daughter, or at least drastically cut back on the amount that she is feeding. We night weaned a while ago but it has occurred to me that she’s nursing maybe as much as 15 times a day aside from that. It seems like every time my ass hits a seat she’s clambering on to my knee to demand “eeenuff!” (It’s my belief that she calls it this because I’ll sometimes break the latch, sit her down and say you’ve had enough). The sessions don’t last very long, maybe just a couple of minutes but still, we can fit six or seven of them in before lunch.
I don’t really know how to break the habit. I’ve tried offering her alternatives like juice or fruit (we even tried hot chocolate once) but all I get is a stern “no” and then further demands for “enuff”. I think perhaps I may just have to never sit down in front of her for a fortnight or so. Failing that maybe I could run away for a week and hope she forgets about it in the meantime.
I am so upset. I did have my hopes up. I did start quietly making little baby plans in my head. I liked sitting with my husband a couple of nights ago and chatting about the practicalities of having a new baby, about names we liked, about how we’d stay team yellow this time or whether or not I’d have my third home birth or go the new midwifery unit near by.
It’s shitty to have all that taken away and to still be no closer to having it. I’m a little scared that I will never have it again.
I could do with a big toblerone about now.