That means “little hope” in Spanish. As in, I’m actually getting a little.
I don’t want it, though. Damn it. In this TWV business, hope is a thing with razors as far as I’m concerned.
But here’s the thing. I cramped like crazy for days 6,7 and 8 po. I usually don’t cramp until day 9. (Then again, I don’t usually go on the pill and then shoot myself up with ovary-stimulating hormones, either.) Day 9? That’s today. Did I cramp today? No. I did not cramp today.
Was it implantation? Maybe. When I reminded my honey that I had cramped for three days, she gasped and said, “Did all three of the mature eggs implant?” I’ll take one or two, thanks. I sure enjoyed re-reading Oh Chicken’s posts about her implantation cramping. Those are the exact cramps I had.
So I’m just going to open myself up to a leeeeeeetle teeeeeeeny ray of hope for this cycle. But that’s it, damn it. Enough of this Pollyanna-doodle-all-day big I-think-I’m-pregnant secretive grin crap! I am not going to go there. And that’s final.