parachute of hope

Well clearly after my MOTHER opted to express her feelings in the comment section of the last post the little layer of tin foil that I had been wrapping around and around my heart began to crumble. Hope is no match to preservation tactics. Hope will always win out.

The thing is I have total horrible flashbacks to my miscarriage. I remember vividly what that experience was like physically and emotionally. I am not such a tough cookie. How could I knowingly walk the plank towards that fate?

In the end the reasoning of, “you will always wonder if you don’t see it through” won out. I am continuing my meds and will go in for a repeat beta tomorrow morning.

I am so incredibly annoyed that I am allowing myself to even CONSIDER that this might be anything other than doomed. But enough of you, with your fantastic stories, have pushed me back into the warm sun of maybe. Maybe this will turn out ok. Maybe I will become one of those people with a “my first beta was 14 and now look at him over there!” story. Maybe.

And since this wouldn’t be a proper full disclosure post without plonking out some more photos of what my pee is doing, here are the tests from this morning (where I am hanging out all 13dp3dt).
pee sticks for 13dp3dt

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