It's 2:35 am on Monday morning. I can't sleep. I feel completely paralyzed with fear about today. These last 4 days have been longer than the first 11 between transfer and beta were. I used Frers those first two days and got obvious positives, then switched to dollar store test and the lines are barely there. I don't feel any pressure or stabbing anymore. Just sick. My stomach is a disaster. I feel like I'm going to be cheating my students out of their first day back because I cannot focus on anything. So I am here, crying, posting on bnb, and worrying over something that I cannot do a thing about. I am just so scared. I'm scared for my baby, I'm scared for how my heart will break if it's gone, I'm scared of my husband's face if I have to tell him that. Things may be fine. But the nurse's words keep playing in my head: "I'd say you can be cautiously optimistic" and "50/50 chance". When you've never prevented/actively tried for as long as we have, those words are a double edged sword. It feels like walking on jello. There's a surface beneath you, but it's unsteady at best. The not knowing, the waiting...it's utterly nerve-wracking. I know that whatever happens, we will survive. I know I can come here and celebrate or mourn. But somehow it's always worst in the quiet of the night when theres nothing to distract you from your darkest fears. Later this morning, I will get dressed, go to work, hug my sweet kiddos, and pretend to function. I'll do it because they deserve it. But I feel like I haven't taken a deep breath since Thursday, and I wonder when I will again. I'm sorry this is so down. I just so needed to say the words. Keeping it in was making it worse.