I tested with a FRER with FMU and BFN @ 11dpo, 12dpiui. I was still hopeful because my symptoms are persisting, but Mr. MLACS (from across the miles, via phone) informed me that, lucky us, according to the FRER stats there’s a 20% chance that this was a false negative! Oh goody! So that means (and I believe, because you know I believe in the power of FRER’s) that there is an 80% chance that I AM NOT pregnant. I should’ve seen at least a faint positive today–I saw a ‘shadow’ of a line at 11dpo with my chemical, and the faintest pink line at 12dpo, and my beta was 5, so it’s insane that I even saw a line. I squinted at today’s FRER, and I willed a second line to show it’s self, but there was nothing.
There’s an 80% chance that I am going to have to do this over again at the end of this month (during Christmas) while my MIL is here visiting with Mr. MLACS’s developmentally disabled (seriously AWESOME) older brother. I don’t want to explain any of this to my MIL. I don’t want her telling my SIL about any of this, because SIL had a miscarriage this time last year and is currently going through a veeeeery bitter divorce (was married for 1 year and 3 months before separating) AND she just turned 30 AND is changing her career…so basically, she has swallowed a handful of bitter pills after having her dreams fall apart this year. She admitted she had hoped we would have our first miscarriage (not to me, to her brother) and I’ll never forgive her for that–I KNEW that she felt that way, I could FEEL it, and I worry that her bad juju hurt my pregnancy. Mr. MLACS didn’t believe me that she felt that way until SHE told him. I just don’t understand how a woman who has lived through the devastation of miscarriage could ever WISH that on someone else. I mean, I can see wishing that someone wouldn’t get pregnant or wishing that it would take them awhile to get pregnant, but wishing for miscarriage is crossing the damn line. If you wish for someone to have a miscarriage then you’re an a**hole and I don’t want to know you. Oh and then she called me after my miscarriage and was like “I’m SO sorry I know JUST how you feel” and I wanted to be like “No b*tch, your hater ass does NOT know how I feel”, but I didn’t. In my head (logically) I know she’s (emotionally) just a little girl whose dreams of being married for 50 years and having 5 kids got ripped away from her and she was lashing out. It’s pathetic and should inspire pity. But in my heart, I’m grieving for the babies I lost and I want to STOMP anyone who dares to take an ounce of satisfaction that this happened to me and my poor Mr. MLACS. F*ck her. Uhg. Little sisters are such little haters.
What this all leads up to is, there’s an 80% chance that I’m going to have to do this all over again. There’s an 80% chance Mr. MLACS’s Mom and brother (but God willing NOT his little sister) will be here with us during this next cycle. And, even though Mr. MLACS says his mother would NEVER tell his sister if he tells his Mom not to…he has no idea how women operate, particularly mothers/daughters/sisters/friends…and you and me and GOD knows that there’s an 80% chance that my MIL is going to tell my SIL. And that chaps my ass even more than having to do it all over again.
I’m so frustrated I don’t even care that we’re finally getting the first snow I’ve been wishing for.