Of all of the days of my cycle, 9 DPO (days past ovulation) is clearly the worst.  It is just on the eve of knowing if there is good news or not good news.  It is when signs of my period start sneaking in which, in the most annoying of ways, is a mirror image of the lists of early pregnancy symptoms I study every month.  A pinch, a cramp, an ache.  While easy to become obsessed with, they mean virtually nothing.  The only thing that means something is a line on a test.  A silly pink line.  That is the only thing that can tell me if those things I have been trying to ignore all day mean that my heart can begin to beat a little faster as I get excited about the possibilities of expanding our family. 

I daydream the minutes away about what I'll do if I really am pregnant, but every daydream pops like a cartoon bubble when I remember how deflated I have felt the last 19 cycles.  I try to balance every thought of "Maybe!" with "Probably Not."  I don't know if it really makes it any easier but I at least feel like I am not letting myself get carried away. 

This is also the time when Doug starts asking ab out tests.  Somehow Doug does a great job staying positive.  Every time.  Even after I have already resigned to using a preemptive pantiliner, he still gives me a premensrual pep talk.  I love him for it but it hurts when I feel like I am letting him down again.  "Negative.  It is still negative.  Maybe tomorrow."

I know that I should wait to test, but somehow I feel like testing early helps me to ease into the disappointment.  It is like when I was 16 years old and had a dream of a car for Christmas.  I wanted a shiny new car with a big red bow to be hiding in the garage.  I would open every gift one at a time hoping that it was a disguised car key or clue to where I would find some shiny new wheels.  Every gift was okay but it just wasn't a car.  Each day I'm alive is a wonderful gift and I appreciate that every month that passes puts me one month closer to a baby, but a new car would be really nice... I mean baby.  A new baby would be really nice.

Tomorrow I will be using a Detect5 test and I am really hoping to see a line.  Just one is fine.  One that tells me that there is a baby in there.  One line that tells me that it is time to shed a tear of fear wrapped in hope as women who have had losses will understand.  I want to try to fight the urge to fall in love right away.  I want to lose that battle just like I did every other time.  I want to start thinking about how old Gavin and Joey will be.  I want to guess what next fall will feel like.  I want to fall into a deep sleep each night because the hormones of pregnancy force my eyes closed. 

I have said it before and I'll say it again to remind myself.  This life isn't about what I want.  It is what God wants for me. 

That, my friends, is why 9 DPO is the worst.  Here's to tomorrow bringing me one step closer to doing the happy dance in my bathroom...