The highs and lows this weekend knotted me and left me wondering how I should feel. I took the remaining two pregnancy tests, the ones left in the package. Compulsively, I had to confirm the positive test; I couldn’t wait until the doctor’s appointment, which is tomorrow morning. And I never suspected they would silently disappoint me! But after seeing two negative results, I steeped in doubt for a while before resurfacing to tell Damon what I found.

The mind has a powerful way. It can wrap itself snug around the possibility of a new baby, no matter how impossible it originally seemed. As the hours pass, a vision becomes clearer and problems begin to resolve, and fear transforms to hope. Then, to release the notion is like asking to grieve. Could this all have been a fantastic head trip? I feel I can relate on some level to IVF patients, who never really know what to expect.

Both of our children were planned. It took an agreement, a basal thermometer, a chart, and a month to conceive each boy, and each time I felt in complete control of my body: I knew the day I was ovulating like I knew the day I was pregnant, and two tests for each child confirmed the latter, in each case. But now, I feel so vulnerable and human, clumsy and blind. And I’m sorry to burden you with this self-pity, but years later I might find this all amusing. I mean, relatively speaking, these are small beans. But they are feelings, nonetheless, and because I’m human I have them.

So tomorrow morning, I go to the OBGYN. I’m anxious. Knotted. And I’ll be a little sad if we don’t find an embryo, but I’ll be okay.

Tonight I have a fun project to occupy the rest of my time: a painting, commissioned for a very special occasion. And I’m absolutely thrilled. Still, I can’t give away any details (well, not yet!).

To all you mothers reading this, I hope you had a relaxing but joyful Mother’s Day…and maybe a glass of wine or a mimosa, for me?