The End of the Experiment

If I were a normal person, not a crazed fertility patient, I'm sure that I'd read the HPT I'm looking at as unquestionably, undeniably negative. Instead, I'm doing that thing--you know the thing--where you hold it up to the light and look at it sideways and anyways and convince yourself that maybe there's the hint of a line. Which I have not had to do since this experiment began. And I've never had to do when I've actually been, you know, pregnant.

I haven't decided if I'll ask Dr. Gorgeous for a beta, though I'm thinking probably not, because I don't want them to call with some outrageous number like 4, which really wouldn't do anything in terms of providing useful information or putting my mind at ease. That is, I think I'm just going to have to wait it out.

I'm not sorry I conducted this experiment, though I'm not sure I'd recommend it for others. Now I need to start thinking about that plan.

Sigh.

Update, after the consult: Dr. Gorgeous was all ready to slap a tourniquet on me until she remembered that she'd had me do 2 Ovidrel shots. She thought the chance of getting a false positive was just cruel. Oh, if she only knew what I'd been up to this week...