Those of you that can remember way back two years ago, might remember that I have my waterloo day, my day of reckoning, my day of I'm either am or I am not. That day is 13 DPO. I have been pregnant quite a few times and I always have had a 2nd line by that magical day. If the line ain't there by then, it just ain't gonna be. Not that month anyway. If a pee stick is still sans two lines at 13 DPO, I don't need it to be digital, because it is clearly saying, "Better luck next time and your consolation prize is your freakin' period, thankyouverymuch."
Well, if you are following along with my oh-so-clever titles, you can see that tomorrow will be that fateful day.
Today is clearly not that day. However. . .
Gah, I want to pee. I want to pee on a stick so badly that my hands are getting all itchy, creepy-crawly. It's occupying a lot of my thoughts. When Will and I were playing with his Jr. Doctor kit this morning, the tongue depressor started calling my name and I had to cross my legs, because it looked just like a FRER.
I really honestly don't know if I am pregnant. M's nose has never failed me and I have some interesting "things" going on, which include vaguely tender breasts, some intermittent cramping, and (one of my most interesting early pregnancy symptoms) more saliva in my mouth than usual. However, I also know that the thought that I "could" be pregnant also "could" be responsible for these so-called symptoms.
I can't promise that I will make it until tomorrow to test, but I have to admit, I am pretty gosh darned proud of myself for making it this far without giving in to the call of the sticks. They are getting mighty loud.