When I try to show my husband pregnancy tests, and ask him to look for a line, his reaction is not dissimilar to that of Nosferatu confronted with sunlight. He HATES looking at them. He HATES me doing tests. I think this goes back to when I had the miscarriage, I hounded him to look at tests from stupid dpo and then it all ended badly. He’d much prefer it if it was like my other pregnancies and I’d be blissfully clueless until things are a bit more established.
As I said in a previous post though, it’s hard to unlearn things. I can’t stop myself from obsessively testing over and over again and it’s not good for my mental state.
I’m seriously worried about the darkness of the lines I’m getting. I’m 16DPO today and the test as perhaps fainter than the one I did yesterday. This has sent me into a tailspin of anxiety. I’m furiously googling images of other positive tests at 16DPO and comparing mine, and the comparison is not favourable.
I am scared. I am really, really scared. Again, this harks back to the miscarriage where it took me to 12/13 DPO to get a positive and the digital test with the conception indicator wasn’t lining up the way I thought I should.
My paranoid, catastrophizing self is going into overdrive, like Jabba the Hut’s little mate, sitting on my shoulder jibbering, prophesying disaster and telling me to throw the Jedi to the rancor.
I guess I worry that I don’t deserve this, or it’s been too easy, or with the soy and the agnus castus and reflexology and the b vitamins and whatever else I’ve been doing I have forced my body into something that it’s just not ready for and I’ll end up paying the price.
As I said, I am scared.
I don’t have an appointment to see my doctor until Thursday. I’ve vowed not to do any more tests between now and then but I’m on major knicker watch now and I think I’ll be a ball of anxiety until I have a scan and see a heartbeat.
I hope I’m just a major drama queen.