So, the dreaded TWW is coming to an end. It's different this time around. I no longer pee on the sticks obsessively on a pretense of "getting to know earlier so I'd get treatment sooner". I admit, I did one test on Saturday (why? search me), and it was negative, of course. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. Then I didn't want to spoil the family celebration we were having this week. Then I didn't want to do it on April 1st (no fooling around this one). It's like I don't even want to know. Not knowing makes me hope that there might be a chance for me. Knowing might take this hope away.
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