Hope boomerang?

I don’t know what I must’ve been dreaming about Thursday morning, but I woke up convinced that I wasn’t pregnant and fired up to schedule some consults with new REs. I think I’ve said before that I’ve had implantation bleeding with each of my 4 pregnancies, and so in a way my 2ww gets answered more quickly in my mind now: no spotting, no preggo. Yes, I realize that I don’t actually know anything, but I’ve been right these past 11? 12? cycles, and in a way helps cushion the disappointment.

But then a couple things happened over the weekend. I’ve been BBTing, and my temp seemed a few degrees higher Saturday morning. Hmmm, an elusive triphasic chart? Or simply that it might’ve been a later time, I was flailing in my sleep, etc.

And then Saturday night - who the what?? - I noticed some spotting. And not the “gotcha” spotting of my stupid pink prometrium supps, but brown. It's later than I would typically get implantation bleeding at ~11dpo, but who the hell knows anymore? What else is it then, seems early for pre-AF spotting? The spotting was a little heavier today, but definitely spotting as opposed to flow, and mostly brownish.

Not calculating any due dates at this point, mind you, but hope has made a tiny comeback. And some tbd day soon I’ll get up the nerve to POAS.

So the downside of having some signs of “holy shit, I might actually be pregnant” is the quick to follow thoughts of “holy shit, in how many ways have I already screwed this up.” (I don’t know if that’s an RPL thing, but I’m just too haunted by irrational ghosts of “things I did to doom my 4 past pregnancies.”)

And I feel like I’ve been under fire ever since. Some new owners just bought the condo above us and are moving in next month, but Saturday I hear a work truck pull up back, and soon after hear the sounds of the floors being sanded upstairs. Our condo is relatively new and appears nice, but was built about 8 years ago when any dipshit could get a builders license and it’s basically held together with spit. I start freaking out, because I know what’s coming next: re-varnishing the hard wood floors. I’ve had 2 bad experiences with being exposed to fumes during past doomed pregnancies, and I just hate being put in that position. 

My husband talks to the workers, and they say they’re supposed to finish the work that day. I had already planned to spend most of the weekend out in the burbs with family parties, so I decide to pack a bag and spend the night at my brothers. Out of the frying pan.... there I proceed to spend most of the weekend with 4 adorable children who were all coughing their heads off, and dying to cuddle with me which I am powerless to resist. Especially the twins, seeing as how we were celebrating their 4th birthday.

Then tonight we get back home at 8p, and the place reeks of varnish. Not as terrible as I might’ve expected, but I could smell it, and just didn’t want to be there.

So.... I’m writing this post alone from my hotel room in downtown chicago, near my office. My husband stayed at home to get all the windows open and air things out --- thank god for the freak 70-degree weather today!

In summary: I may be pregnant, but may also have already doomed it with the exposure to toxic fumes and the bronchitis I’m sure to get this week. 

I know I sounds like a crazy person. (Or possibly a tired illiterate one - I just caught the typo in the previous sentence - “sounds” - but maybe that sums it up better.) But such is the joy of life as a paranoid, heart-broken, desperate IF/RPL-er.
  
I more than ever just want to take good care of myself right now and get good rest and be in my own damn bed. I hope my exile doesn't last too long. Or that this added stress isn't what dooms my maybe-there-maybe-not new pregnancy. (Yes, I realize I've used "doom" like a 100 times in this post - someone's got to now that barfingrainbows got her happy ending :) )
  
Happy week to everyone!