this has been the week of the faint line. this email that bean sent me last thursday pretty much sums up every single day since then, with minor variations (including work and vast amounts of time spent with very lovely bean relations - grandparents and an uncle):
“um
i’ll wash up
look at faint line 1,560,326 more times
check to see if sprinkler is working
admire new deck setting and feel impatient about delay in bbq construction
poke breasts
sigh
do a load of washing
stare at finished load of washing
growl at miaowy cat
check mailbox
look at line at least once more
think about lunch
look at finished pile of washing again
eat some food
check email
look at faint line
grizzle and maybe hang out washing
boot cat outside
admire new pathway through the straw
wait for 530pm”
there was definitely a line. it was very very faint, and we had to break the little absorbent bit of paper out of the plastic casing to get a really good look at it, and it disappeared on friday but came back stronger on saturday and sunday, whereupon we stuck them all to a piece of paper that we pored over every time the grandparents were looking in the opposite direction. on the packet of the wee sticks it said you are pregnant ‘even if the line is very faint’, and we repeated it like a mantra.
we dared to hope.
today, at about 9am, i got a very sad phone call from bean. you know what’s coming: blood. harbinger of doom and depression. we had dreamed of a celebratory dinner this week, but instead we will be drinking sacrificial wine, blood red and thick. hopefully it will dull the pain. and soon we will get back up and try all over again…
