It was quite clear. And it said, most definitely, 'Pregnant' '1 - 2 weeks'. I think it might have been telling the truth too as I definitely don't seem to be getting the usual confirmation that I'm not pregnant.
Let's think about this; we've been trying for 10 months and think there may have been 2 instances when we've been successful but, alas, my body didn't seem to think it was a good idea at the time. I could be wrong - nothing has ever been confirmed and it would have been far too early for a doctor to tell I reckon.
In that time, I've stopped smoking, been sparing with the booze, taken my folic acid/vitamins, tried to keep fit and eat relatively healthily.
Over the last 4 weeks, I've had a cigarette (shhhhh, don't tell hubby), had at least 4 big nights when I've drunk a significant amount, dangled off ladders inhaling far too many paint fumes than is healthy, dyed my own hair over the bath inhaling lord knows what chemicals and indulged in some pretty intense gym sessions. One of the 'significant amount of alcohol' days was the day before doing the first pregnancy test. Ooops. Think i might have eaten a substantial amount of brie that day too. Double ooops.
Naturally , my doctor's surgery is overbooked and i can't get an appointment until next Thursday so it's not been officially confirmed yet. Don't know if that's good or bad really. I'm trying not to get too excited, it's early days and I don't want to tempt fate - I've known far too many people who have been disappointed and upset at an early stage. God that sounds maudlin doesn't it. At what point does cautious become pessimistic?
That aside, I have so many drinking opportunities booked in the diary this month that I will have to become extremely adept at lying through my teeth to people. I think I may be more successful at this than Hubby who is already trying to concoct convoluted stories as to why I might be driving/not drinking. Oh dear. He really has to learn that the best lies are the simple ones. At least I should be safe in the knowledge that I'll always know when he's fibbing his arse off to me.
- A first time mum at 39, trying not to let my son kill me off too soon. Busy juggling a new family, a new house and a tricky recording schedule I figured blogging would be less expensive than therapy and less embarrassing than shouting at rude and stupid people in the street/on trains/at the supermarket.