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Well, I POAS this morning and for about 1.5 seconds I was convinced I saw a very faint second line. Not that I would really know what it looks like never having seen it before. I even did that desperate thing I swore I would never do – break the test open to check the phantom line more closely. Of course then I didn’t know where to pretend the line was… after a few minutes of squinting  and looking at it sideways I had to admit to the BFN. I thought I would cry, after all, a BFN at this point pretty much means the cycle failed, I failed, it’s over.

I didn’t cry. I put the test in the trash and got back in bed with my husband. Laying there cuddled up with him I was wondering at my composure and then I felt it – that panic deep deep inside my belly. Let me explain. The deeper my grief, the longer I take to react to it – it’s like it starts from a place so far down inside me that it takes a long time to get to the surface.

My best friend was killed in a car accident when I was 19. After his mother told me the news I was perfectly calm.  I played with the cat, made and ate a PBJ, watched some TV. After about 2 hours I figured it was time to start making phone calls and letting people know. It was only as I picked up the phone that I started to cry. I started to cry and didn’t stop for about 6 months. This feel kinda like that. I haven’t started to cry yet, but I can feel it coming.

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