Did I tell you I found out I wasn't pregnant at three in the morning?
I was being somewhat disingenuous with you the other day, when I said I wouldn't test early.
The fact was, I always knew that I would test on Sunday morning, just a day early. I wanted to test so that I had a day to acclimatise myself to the result. I knew, whatever the outcome, that last thing that I would want is to go directly into the back-to-back meetings I had scheduled for Monday morning having just found out.
On Sunday morning (just) I awoke with a screaming bladder at 2.57am. Now, here was a dilemma: The test clearly stated I should use the first urination of the day to test. True, this was the first but was it too early?
I'd waited this long, surely I could wait another couple of hours.
Not a fucking chance.
My boobs were aching, I'd had curious stomach cramps earlier in the week. I was beside myself with anticipation.
I thought I'd got away with it three minutes later, as I crept silently back into bed. But the husband was immediately awake and asked what it had said.
Until that point I'd managed to hold it together, repeating the mantra in my head 'It was never going to be this easy, of course the first go wouldn't work'. But just opening my mouth to tell him it was negative unleashed those tearless sobs, the ones that are noiseless, that you always forget about if you are faking crying.
The good thing about testing at such an unnatural hour was that I managed to cry myself back to sleep.
I won't say things felt immediately brighter when I work up in the morning proper, but it had given me a bit of perspective.
In retrospect though, bit of advice, on the day you expect to find out whether fertility treatment has worked or not, don't arrange to go and see your friends and their five week old baby who shares your birthday.
I managed it, but it wasn't the easiest Sunday ever.