And so we begin the two weeks of waiting. My temperature went up yesterday. It stayed up today. One more day and ovulation for this cycle is confirmed.
The Olympics is over. The wait for the score has begun.
From here on out it is obsession about every twinge, every little symptom. Am I pregnant? Am I not? The tiresome countdown to 10 days past ovulation when I will begin testing every other day. The countdown to 14 days past ovulation. Will my period arrive this time? Will it be late but still come? Will that test finally read positive? If it does, will it last? Will I get to the finish line of a full-term healthy baby?
The wait. The wait. The wait.
I want a crystal ball. I want some grizzled old lady, like the ones we saw lining the square in New Orleans when I was pregnant with Rebecca, to tell me my future. But all I have is the wait and the thermometer and the chart and the home pregnancy test.
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