The Two Week Wait

14 days.
336 hours.
20,160 minutes.
1,209,600 seconds.

It doesn't sounds a lot written down, does it? But, to quote Madonna, time goes by so slowly. Dear child, I don't have the option of hanging up on you. Nor do I look like that in a leotard (thankfully.)

I am going slowly mad. I'm 9 days past ovulation. I have ultra sensitive pregnancy tests. Chances are, if I tested now, I could conjure up something akin to a line, if, of course, I am pregnant. But I know of old, that if I do test now, then all I will conjure up is a wishy-washy half line, that may be evaporation or may be something else. Now, that hell is even worse than this one. So close and yet so far. Alternatively I may get a big fat negative. But will that stop me wondering if I am pregnant? Of course not. I will tell myself that it's too early to test. So I'm trying to hold on until next Saturday. It will be a miracle if I get there.

Twice before Papa and I have conceived on month two. Twice before on month one.  There is a reasonable chance that we might have hit the jackpot this cycle. But then we weren't old and fat and knackered before. Yes, I still ovulate, but that doesn't guarantee the quality of my eggs, or his sperm. Will they meet successfully? Did they?

To pass the never ending time, I have done what millions of other women trapped in the two week wait do: I've Googled. Everything from how early can I test, to how should I tell Papa if I do conceive. He wants us to test together. It's a moment too raw, too full of hope and fear, for me to share. Besides which, he will make me wait until my period is actually late. Which is sensible, of course, but hell on a stick. I haven't yet decided how I should test.

I am having all sorts of pregnancy symptoms, naturally. I have spots, which I don't normally have, but the weather is unseasonably warm. I have a sense of my own uterus. I know this sounds weird. It's like a clenched muscle in my abdomen, or as though someone has started to inflate a balloon in my womb. Like period pain without the pain. I can just feel it. I've woken myself up in the night feeling it. It's psychological, obviously. Even if something was in there, it's not big enough to cause any bloating. A bunch of cells the size of a grain of sand can't make one's insides feel like this. But still, it's there. And I wish it would bugger off, because it makes concentrating on everyday life jolly tough.

I really need to get a grip on myself. I wonder if you're already here, dear child, floating darkly in my tubes. But you won't be floating. You'll be dividing furiously, and that makes me excited, and terrified, in equal measure...

I hope pregnancy is less emotionally charged than this.

Mama x