This morning's test required no squinting, no waiting, no tilting, and no special lighting. It's a faint but definite line and has even acquired a bit of pink color. Still far lighter than the control line, but I'm confident I've got something going on. My nausea and breast soreness are getting worse...I mean, better, since these are good signs. DH gave me a big hug last night and I yelped, "Ouch!!!"
I have one last HPT in my arsenal, which I will use on Wednesday. Unless, of course, I prove to be as spineless as I have so far, and I go out and buy more. I'm glad these things are legal and don't make you gain weight, because they're like crack to we poor infertiles.
My serum beta HCG test is Friday. It's gonna be a loooooong week.
One thing I am realizing, as I run this race: In a sense, I will never cross the finish line. If I get a positive beta on Friday, it is simply the starting line of the next contest, waiting to see if the beta doubles appropriately. If the first ultrasound is normal. If the heartbeat is seen, and is fast enough. If the old-lady tests come back normal. And so on, until birth, and later. I can fast forward, in my thoughts, to that day when my little one climbs on the schoolbus, taking my heart with her out into the world. It is a sobering thought.