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We’re several days into the two-week wait, and I confess, I’m feeling twinges of hope that this is our time. The voices in my head are bickering like 8-yr-olds.

The normal voice o’ pessimism: “Hello, realistic? What happened to expecting the worst? And even if you are pregnant, there’s absolutely guarantee that it’ll last any longer than the other ones. You said you wouldn’t get emotionally attached this time… yeah, that lasted a whole 3 days.”

The hope interloper: “But things are different now. You’re taking all kinds of vitamins and doing the progesterone supps, and you’re in a better mental place. Why wouldn’t it happen this time? Come on, it’s ok to believe!”

Oh, it’s fun being in my head. Not.

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