It used to be that the two week wait involved obsessing over every ache and pain in my abdomen, stressing over going to the bathroom and the possibility of seeing a red dot on a piece of toilet paper and doing everything humanly possible to stay busy and not be completely preoccupied by the thought that I might be pregnant...or not.
I would literally count down the fortnight by the hours, which made it take that much longer. It was a sucky limbo period of not knowing if you should start thinking about baby names in case of a positive result or playing drinking games in case of a single blue line. I wished I could just sleep the two weeks away and wake up just in time for a blood draw for my beta.
I have a new version of the two week wait right now. I'm eagerly anticipating the arrival of the first printed copy of The Inadequate Conception. My day is up tomorrow and I should have it in my hot little hands when I get home from work. Instead of going to the see my plebotomist, I will be waiting for the UPS guy to make a very special drop off.
And instead of having a sense of dread waiting for the inevitable phone call with bad news, for the first time, my two week wait should have a happy ending. Maybe not the ending I originally hoped for, but a good place, nonetheless.
Hopefully everything looks OK because if so, the book will be available next week!