7 years ago today, those two pink lines were dark and thick, more than I had ever seen, getting darker every day, every 12 hours, for 4 or 5 days, never wavering, as they had done, as they had done each time, three times before, before fading to nothing over a week, or two.
7 years ago today, I felt confident -- well, hopeful -- enough to tell my father that it looked like this cycle may have worked, this 9th cycle. It was in a quiet corner during the wedding reception and tho I never uttered the "p" word, he hugged me and gave me a huge kiss in the cheek. I had only ever told him after the failures, the losses, and wanted up give him a little gift of hopeful grandparenthood.
7 years ago today, I was four weeks pregnant. I knew the beta would show something, but was wracked with apprehension. And hope.
7 years ago today, I was four weeks pregnant for the last time. Ever.