My thoughts swirl around these days.  Or, at least today.  I can’t honestly tell you how my thoughts went yesterday.  They are THAT swirly.

• Lala comes up and looks at a page I colored in her coloring book and says, “Wow! That looks great, mommy! “. Before I can thank her, she says, ” but in a minute, I’m gonna do it even better.”.   <–If she wasn’t 4, I’d say she’s being arrogant.  But, she IS 4 and she really was giving me a compliment.  She makes me laugh.
• Another quote from Lala (she asked her sister this when she was trying to figure out which activity would be next):  “Would you like to play toss the dog or chase the goat?”
• I’m thankful for the bills I have to pay (and being able to pay them)… it means I have running water, heat during cold months, and lights. I’m thankful for my girls’ smiles…but also for their tears…because it means they CAN cry. I’m thankful for crappy internet connections because even though it means that I may only get spotty conversation with my husband MAYBE once a week, it’s still more than if we were relying on mail alone. I’m thankful to have the opportunity to miss my husband – it means I have a great father for my children, a husband who I love enough to miss, and a marriage that has been through hell and back (commitment). I’m thankful for days like these, where staying in bed seems like the best option, because in the end it means I’ll be better for it and I’ll be able to love and relate to others more deeply.
• I’m so very thankful for the family and friends who have been helping me feed my little family during this time.
• If you ask how I’m doing “in passing” (like at Walmart or on Facebook or in front of a crowd), my answer is usually the standard “we’re okay,” “fine,” or “good.”  If you want to REALLY know how I’m doing or how my week was, ask me privately.
• I don’t really understand what people mean when they ask if I’ve talked to my husband.  Have I talked to him in 6 months?  Yes.  Or, do you mean to ask if we’ve talked today?  And, does “talk” include a text from facebook or do you mean “talk” as in a 2 hour skype session?  The answer to the last one is no… never.
• I am both terrified and excited at how soon this baby is coming.  On one hand, I feel awful physically from the contractions and I would really like to hold my baby.  On the other, it also means that our son will be here for longer before he gets to meet his father.  It also means I’ll have 3 children here without my husband.  I’m ALREADY exhausted…what am I supposed to do then?
• Being accused unfairly of something sucks.
• I am a big ball of emotions – overwhelmed by gratitude but also, sadness…all at once.  I thought it wasn’t possible to have both…but apparently it is when you’re pregnant.
• Speaking of “balls,” it looks like I’m hiding one under my shirt.
• I’m exhausted.  I think I’m coming down with something…again.  Then again, maybe I’m just pregnant and run-down.
• “Gentle Baby” by Young Living (essential oil) makes me feel like a cat around catnip.  Seriously.  I was never crazy about the smell til a few months ago, and now it’s like some drug.  I just want to pour it all over.  It’s really weird, actually.
• It feels really nice to be able to actually buy Christmas gifts for our kids this year.  Our budget is small compared to most, but we have one.  I’m excited not to have to worry about trying to make everything (as much as I love creating, I just have NO ENERGY…and after several years of doing it, I feel like I’m cheating them).
• I’m excited that most of the gifts (except maybe a couple of stocking stuffers) have been ordered and are on their way – AND were found through some great sales and free shipping!
• I’m a little bummed that I’ve had to miss out on all of these fun holiday parties so far… because of the contractions and how I’ve felt, we’ve mostly cleared our calendar (including the kids’ activities).  I’m glad for the rest but feeling a little stir-crazy sometimes too.
• I LOVE LOVE LOVE the pregnancy photographs my friend did for us so we could capture the “happier” part of pregnancy.  With the deployment, pregnancy complications, and other things… I didn’t want to remember just the bad that came.  I wanted to remember the good parts and I wanted to share it with my husband who missed most of it.  I’m so grateful to her and love her fabulous work.

Welcome back!

At some point, I suppose we’re all handed a lot in life that we don’t especially love.  And, I’ve tried especially hard to be positive – seeing these days as a “practice run,” something that could better equip us both with the challenges that lie ahead.  But, the truth is, sometimes things just suck.  Sometimes, we’re just a little heat away from becoming unglued.

When all is said and done, I can’t escape the wrestling of thoughts that keep screaming – “GETTING CLOSER!”  And, oh!  How it stings, and tears deep.  Mostly, because it’s true and it tears at this pretend happy, forced hopefulness I’ve been trying to construct around the fear I feel inside.  I don’t want to think about all of the things this time really means.  I don’t want to think about what’s coming ahead so very soon.  I.  Just.  Want.  To.  Be.  Happy.

I really do believe we have a choice to make the best out of circumstances.  But, sometimes… no matter how you shake things, they just suck.  And, to be honest – I don’t feel like I have the right to complain much because others have it worse.  And so, I try not to.  I know I will survive.  I know it’s not the end of the world and others are going through worse things and have gone before me doing the same, again and again.  So, I put on my brave face and just try to breathe.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.

Don’t mistake the brave face for “being alright with things” or “having it altogether,” though.  Because, right below the surface is a hot spring of tears, ready to burst forth if the carousel of thoughts is just turned on.

I always thought of myself as someone who could ask for what she needs, but turns out, I can’t.  Well, I can…sometimes.  But, for the most part, I feel like although it’s okay for anyone else, “needing” something would mean I’m weak.  I’ve also come to view “need” as this very basic thing.  I don’t “need” anything that I’ve not already been given (food on my table, clothes on our backs).  And while gifts of time/kindness/love (whatever form they may take) speak volumes to my heart, for me to ask for a “need” would be not only my admittance to weakness and failure before I’ve really even begun – but also, I do not feel as if I deserve it.  It’s hard for me to separate myself from this.

These times are trying, no doubt.  Fears creep in and loneliness ebbs at my thoughts.  Days feel longer now that my “shift” has doubled – yet, my patience and energy has not.  It’s the simple things that mean the most.  A lovely token to lift my spirits, a sweet gesture, time to rest, sweet company. –Things that mean so much and lift me, but in the same token, things I won’t ask for – and if you ask what you can do, I’ll draw a blank.  9 times out of 10, if you give me a way to give you a way out, I’ll go for it – not wanting to inconvenience anyone, regardless of how much they say it won’t.

So, that leaves just doing it.  Or, not.

But please, just don’t ask me…

Most of you know this already, but my name is Ashley and I’m a wife and a mom to 2 lovely little girls (3 1/2 and 1 1/2).  I’m a stay-at-home mom, but unfortunately that doesn’t mean I get to sit on my butt eating bon-bons.  When I’m not doing thankless (and mostly un-noticeable after my kids get through with it) housework, I’m homeschooling, tutoring students, baking cupcakes for birthdays and special occasions by special order, crafting, reading, painting, and freelance writing for publications.  And, blogging, apparently.

I’ve been married for 5 1/2 years and I would love to go back to school to finish up my bachelor’s in psychology.  Jesus Christ is my savior and I LOVE God.  I love people and I appreciate everyone who has been put in my life.

15 Things About Me:

You know how when your plate is full and hard enough to carry as it is and then little things keep getting added and you feel like abandoning the entire plate (which is your entire life) all-together?  But, you can’t actually because …it’s your life.  And, you know how it makes you just sob nonstop and you start feeling all stabby (mostly in your thoughts) when you have to deal with fake people and their syrupy smiles and rude obnoxious people…so you stop going out in public?  You’re angry with yourself because really, it’s time to get over this…even YOU are getting tired of hearing and seeing yourself all blue and sad and pathetic.  And you know how you start avoiding people because you know they’ll ask how you’ve been (without really wanting the full answer) and you know that as soon as you do, it’s very likely that you’ll just break down into a heap on the floor?  And, although you normally wouldn’t tell them, you will because you feel so darn broken and…they asked?  And then there’s the friends you thought were your friends, thought knew you, but they don’t even notice?  And you feel dumb for expecting people to have ESP but then again, you’re trapped in your own head?  You hate the idea of antidepressants but you also know if someone put them in front of you, you’d eat em like candy, just hoping it would chase away some of the darkness?  And, you’re all angry at God but you love HIm too?  You feel lost and you see all of these “happy” people and you wonder what the hell you did so wrong to keep getting the short end of the straw?  –And then you start wondering if maybe this was all His plan?  And that makes you … well…I don’t know.

I feel like a 15 year old EMO kid – except I’m on my own and my happily ever after turned out to be one of my worst nightmares.  So, I’m locking myself in my proverbial “room” and functioning on autopilot.

I’m trying to find “happy” but keep finding the dead-end detours, instead.

There are things we often know, but sometimes lose sight of during difficult times.  Today, I had one of the gentlest reminders as my family and I worshiped God.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve accepted (and even marveled) that God has a plan for each of our lives, and like the back of a woven tapestry, we often don’t understand the full extent or the “big picture”  because all we see are a million little threads, each representing moments in our lives, woven throughout.  Over the past few years, my family and I have faced some very difficult situations – things that have tried us and brought us to our knees.  We’ve been so low where the only place we could look was UP.  My faith has been tried over and over again.  And, with each of those times, someone would say:  “Just give it to God.  This is part of His plan.”

At first, those words comforted me.  But, after some really heart-wrenching events I became furious, “His plan?  Well, maybe I don’t like His plan!  Maybe His plan is FOR me to go through (what seemed like) endless trials and to hurt…maybe I don’t WANT that!?!”

Have you ever felt that way?  – Like maybe Joel Osteen has gotten loud* a few too many times?  Okay, so maybe I’m the only one who though “Oh crap.” when our pastor shared a sermon one day about God never promising us great times if we followed Him – and, here I was just hoping for my drink to be spiked with what ever Joel Osteen was having.  Who really wants to hear that God has planned for you to lose your house, possibly your marriage, and maybe let’s throw in a baby too? – And, let’s not waste time, we’ll wad it up in the time frame of just a few years.

Yeh, suddenly that whole “God’s plan” thing just made me want to cry.  Rather than being a thought of comfort, it was more like a threat.  – Especially when nobody knew what to say…except “Give it to God.”

But, today I found an answer in a little devotional book.  Basically, it said:

God made each of us, our desires and passions included.  So, He knows us to our very core.  And, He has awesome things planned for us – not just His idea of awesome, but OUR idea of awesome.  And sure, we’re going to have to go through some REALLY rough things to get to those great and awesome things, but His plan for our lives aren’t CENTERED around those hard times.  His plan is centered around the GREAT THINGS He wants for us.  The bad stuff is just on the way, sometimes it’s what helps us get there and sometimes it’s to help shape us for what He’s prepared for us.

I’m not sure how what’s recently happened fits in exactly, and maybe I won’t ever know…but, it sure as heck is more comforting than before.

*”getting loud” means getting high with really good pot.  I don’t necessarily know this from experience.

STATUS UPDATES:

• lots of crying
• overwhelming sense of guilt over this miscarriage
• I feel like a crazy basket-case, swinging quickly from one emotion to another – despair to hope and back again
• mostly feel like sleeping
• having a rough time being around people
• this blogging is about the extent that I can talk about it for now
• still moments where I forget that I’m not pregnant and…that’s rough.  Definitely not my favorite.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

I would be lying if I said there weren’t times that I caught myself gently rubbing my tummy, thinking about how far along I am (was), wondering what new had grown.  I’ve cried so many tears that I have a headache that doesn’t want to go away.  I dream about this pregnancy, about this baby.  And when I wake up, I have the slightest thread of hope : Maybe it’ll be like I read about, where the ultrasound tech missed the twins in a woman’s womb (and other stories as such).  And, maybe we did just mess up the numbers and approximates.  Maybe I just am so early.  And, this blood…other women have “periods” and go on to have healthy babies.  Maybe.  Maybe!

But, then I feel my insides twisting on itself and I know.  I know that after this much blood, there’s no way.  I know it’s just hope.  Irrational hope.

I cry when I read about or see death in a film.  I cry when I look at my girls or while looking at Facebook.  I cry every time I read each sweet email or text from a friend.  I even cry when I go to pencil something in my datebook – and I scrub hard at the little numbers I had penciled in that marked each passing week of my pregnancy.

Back and forth it goes, hope to sliver a calm to pure devastation.  At this point, I don’t even know which way is up…

And yet I know it’s improvement, because that sliver of calm is there, no matter how short it is.  It’s there.

A few moments ago, I received my latest hcg numbers (48 hours after the original one of 496): 201.  It’s basically a confirmation of everything I already felt.  My numbers are going down, the baby is no more.  It’s done.  It’s over, and yet it’s not.

For the next week or so (possibly two), I’ll continue to have blood drawn to watch and wait as my levels return to negatives.  The hope for this baby is gone, but I’m secretly relieved by the count.  In some cases, a woman’s hcg levels can rise before they fall even after the baby stops thriving.  I’m so sad for what I’ve lost, but to have had numbers rising to give a false hope and security would have been worse for me.  I’m glad for the waiting to know what’s going on to be over.

My emotions rip through me like a hurricane.  I’m devastated.  I’m worried – what does this mean for the future, will it happen again?  Will I never be able to think about this baby without crying?  Will I always feel a void, a shadow in our family portrait?  Will I ever stop grieving?  And, then…there’s a tiny ray of new hope, just beginning to glow.  It’s still faint, but I’m hoping that God will use this for some good – will I help someone else?  Will God use me to plant a seed of hope and love in a heart as tender as mine is right now?

Because the thought of this baby being taken for no reason at all is just too terrible for my crushed heart to grasp.

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.“ –  Proverbs 3:5,6

I believe that all things happen for a reason and that God works through ALL things to bring good (thanks Kandi for reminding me of that, regardless of whether I want to hear it or not ) – so, with that, I’m hoping this post will help someone…even if it’s 3 years down the road and Google brings you here.  So, friends, this post has so very little to do with me, please don’t think it’s laced with anything pointy.  It’s not.  But, I’ve heard so much “I just wish I knew what to say,” so here we go…

Here is a collection of things that have been helpful to me and other women who have been through (or are going through) a miscarriage.  If you want to add something, leave it in the comments.  You may help someone.

Things that were helpful:

Personally, for me - “I’m praying for you,” “I’m thinking of you,” “I love you,” “I’m here for you,” and “I’m so very sorry” have been the most helpful words.

“What can I do to help?” Is very helpful from close friends – friends that I know mean it and won’t be offended even if I ask them to go on a hunt for a specific devotional that may or may not be somewhere   On the other hand, a lot of times I don’t know what to ask for, because quite frankly…I don’t *NEED* anything, and nothing will bring back what I’ve lost.  So, if you know of someone going through a miscarriage, think about what you’d do if it was a regular death in the family.  Meals are always good.  Sometimes it’s not what we NEED, but it’s what makes another’s life more convenient or feel loved. (And, if they don’t know what would help, you can always just bring them something.  Sometimes, they don’t want to ask.  Who wants to ask for a sweet gift or a card?)

Also, miscarriage often comes with a lot of waiting – waiting for the numbers in blood tests to drop, other tests, waiting for the miscarriage to complete (it can take a while) -  so, some of the sweetest “gifts” have been comfort food, cards, books, something to make me feel pretty and girly, and even a couple of toys for my girls (which have been most helpful in keeping them entertained when I can’t/couldn’t).

Offering to be there to LISTEN is also helpful – not necessarily something I’ve taken many people up on , but it seems to be helpful for almost anyone else…

Also, understand that she’s grieving and she may be doing so for a while.  She’s going through physical and emotional changes – all of which can be very painful.  If she doesn’t want to attend any parties or baby showers, etc…don’t ask her why or try to get her to go.  Heck, going out to eat last night in a sit down restaurant was pretty hard for me.

Then, there are things that hurt.  Things meant with such good intentions, but painful for the woman who just lost her baby.  Across the board, women say it’s just like if someone else died, think of what you’d say or do to help.

Some examples of things you may want to steer clear of:

-Don’t worry, it happens all the time. Women who have been or are going through a miscarriage don’t generally want to know this.  As one woman put it, “A woman once told me this but how would she feel if I went up to her and said the very same thing after her husband just died?  Sure, it happens all the time, but it doesn’t make it hurt less.”  Then, there’s the woman who said, “I don’t want to hear ‘it happens all the time,’ that gives me no hope.  I’m trying to grieve this loss and all I keep thinking about is how it could happen again and again.”

-It wasn’t meant to be.  It was for the best. There’s a toss up on this one.  There are some women who find comfort in knowing that their baby was lost due to something that wasn’t quite right – like it wouldn’t have survived because of genetic issue, etc.  But, for many other women, these words bring absolutely no comfort.  (It may depend on whether they’ve heard it before or their stage of grief.)

-Please don’t cry. I can imagine this being pretty … well, pointless.

-You can try again. This may sound like comforting words, after-all, it was a baby you were after, right?  But, for a woman who just lost her baby, this will most likely not be helpful unless she’s having babies for the sole purpose of trying to populate her own country.  Because yes, she can try again.  But, it won’t be THIS baby.

-At least you know you can have babies. I’m not sure what I’d do if someone said this to me.  It almost sounds like a jab from someone trying for kids.  Anyhow, let’s just agree that this statement is so not helpful.

-It’s God’s will. Elizabeth said, ” Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don’t presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides, many terrible things are God’s Will, that doesn’t make them less terrible.”

-Be grateful for the children you have. Today, if your mother died in a horrid car accident and you grieved, would it make you ungrateful for your father?  Of course not.

-Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it. I’m going to attempt to speak for most of us mothers, but we love our babies the moment we find out.  We begin bonding early early on.

-You have an angel watching over you. ” I didn’t want her to be my angel. I wanted her to bury me in my old age.” – Elizabeth

-”Don’t tell me horror stories of your neighbor or cousin or mother who had it worse. The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to have this happen six times, or that I could carry until two days before my due-date and labor 20 hours for a dead baby. These stories frighten and horrify me and leave me up at night weeping in despair. Even if they have a happy ending, do not share these stories with me.” – Elizabeth

- “Are you going to see about birth control now.  We don’t want to have another scare like that again.” -Anonymous.  Just, really?

- Pretending like it didn’t happen. Whether it’s been a while, you don’t know what to say, or you truly don’t understand why she’s feeling so sad…don’t ignore it and pretend it’s not there.  That it didn’t happen.  A hug and “I’m so sorry” are sometimes the biggest things you can do.

- Don’t expect a response. If you call or email or text and don’t hear anything back, don’t feel insulted.  From personal experience, I can say that with me, it’s just trying to get through each moment.  I read and hear everything, and your words help me, I’m just not in a place where I can respond to most of it.

-Don’t be upset if she doesn’t want to talk to you.  I know I haven’t wanted to talk too much about things.  Not yet.  Talking makes me cry.  I can blog a post and set it out for people to see (that’s me) but I can’t talk about it much yet.  I may never much.  I don’t know.  It helps so much to know people love me enough to listen should I need it, though. 

Life is messy.  I’m pretty sure I have said some of these things to a friend or two.  Heck, I say wrong things all the time with only the best intentions.  And, some of the things that would be okay with others, aren’t with me or vice versa.  It’s not really a science.  So, if you have said some of these things on the “steer clear” list, don’t beat yourself up.  (Unless it was way out of line like the birth control statement, then you should consider apologizing.)  The idea behind this list is to serve others who search for it, who want to know what they can do for someone they love.  It is NOT meant as a judging card.  Please don’t use it as such.

If you have anything to add, please list it.  What helped you, what made you feel worse?

And, if you’re just checking on me.  Thanks.

I sit here, staring at my computer screen, not even knowing where to begin.  Emotions have flooded through me, thoughts pounding away.

Quite simply, I don’t know what to do with this.

After all of the bleeding and clotting that came last night (a couple of overnight pads worth), I can’t believe I’d have much left inside.  But, it still keeps on coming.  The cramps have doubled, intensifying as my body pushes out things the ultrasound never picked up.

I’m sad, grieving for a baby I’ll never get to hold here on this Earth.

And, I feel so alone as I pass this baby and the hopes that went with it – with no one in the next room waiting to just sit and be with me.  Yesterday, I waited alone, wondering when it would happen, still clinging to the faintest of hopes that I’d be among the tiny statistics of babies missed on ultrasounds, crazy math, or just wacky hormones doing their thing.  I was hoping this pregnancy was salvageable.

Today, I yearn to climb back into bed with a bottle of tylenol and sleep the world away for a little while.  I cry harder every time a new message comes  – messages meant to inspire and comfort me.  But, all I can do is cry.  For me, it’s not just a matter of “making a new one.”  I didn’t just lose a lego, I’m losing a baby – a baby that can never be replaced and will always be just a shadow in every family portrait.  I can’t re-make THIS baby.  This baby is gone.

I pick up my little Aurora, as she pulls on my shorts, feeling the cramps intensify.  I never thought I’d be doing this alone.  But, really, life goes on…even when it doesn’t.  I’m afraid to answer the phone when it rings, unable to take in another “me too” story.  I’m appreciative of the thoughts behind it, but I don’t think I can hear another one.  Their babies don’t make me feel better about this one.  Somehow, the thought that this happens a lot…and could easily again to me…doesn’t comfort me.

Between the sheets of my bed has become my “sanctuary.”  I just want to curl up and read myself into another time, another place until my eyes close and I drift off to my own altered reality of dreams. ( I wish meals made themselves and that rather than being depended on, I could depend on someone else for a little while.)

I’m hurting and I’m sad.  I’m scared about what this means for the future, and I’m hesitant.  So hesitant.

I realize God uses everything for some bigger purpose – I’ve never doubted that, and there is no anger.  But, it doesn’t make it hurt any less for now.

The spotting has increased – and is no longer an unassuming unobtrusive light brown.  Light contractions and a dull ache has made it’s presence known.  Or lack of, whichever.

My hcg levels came back – 496.  Progesterone, 2.6.  That’s really low.  On both accounts.

Granted, my God is a mighty God, an awesome God – and true, miracles are always possible.  I’m just not banking on my situation being one of them.

496 is a level consistent with anywhere between 1 and 3 weeks pregnancy (says my doctor’s nurse practitioner).  I’m supposed to be at 6.  And, while the numbers could have been swaggered a bit, possibly leaving me at 5 weeks…there’s no way to move it back as far as 3.  Unless everything was just hanging out together, yet not, for a while (the actual fertilization can take up to a little over a week.  CAN.  Two or more weeks would be very unlikely.  Possible, I guess, but in a tiny not so much sort of way.)

Then, of course, the bleeding…which says a lot on its own.

So, there we go.  It’s over.

And yet, it’s not.

Today wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I’d held the magical pee wand only a week ago, it’s dark pink lines sending surges of joy through my heart.  And, according to some quick calculations on Babycenter, I was a good 6 weeks and 1 day today.  and being the neurotic person I am, I decided to do some research in my pregnancy journals.

With both girls, I was incredibly sick (those of you who have history with me on here…or stalk my archives (whichever) know this… in great gory detail.  I’m good like that.).  So, I was naturally curious as to when I could expect to start vomiting up my grocery funds.  Then, curiosity led way to wonder – since, according to the journals I should already be sick.  But, wait!  Maybe it’s a boy!  The magic Chinese Gender Chart says it’s a boy, so why not?  Maybe I just don’t get sick with boys.  Oh, heck to the yeah!

But, then there were the slight cramps…and the bit of light brown spotting (not much), but it’s enough to make me just want to know there’s a heartbeat.  To know everything is going okay in there.

So, long story short…I went in for an “official” pee test.  It was positive.  Obviously.  Only, the line was incredibly faint, where it had been much darker on mine.  And, after asking about the quality of the tests, I was informed that those tests were STELLAR, better than mine.   – Which only leaves one to question: Have my levels dropped THAT dramatically?

After the pee test, came the first ultrasound.  There was nothing to be found.  That ultrasound beget another ultrasound from a different office – which also found nothing.  No heartbeat.  No sac.  No baby.  Nothing.

I’m supposed to be 6 weeks pregnant, but there’s nothing there.

In the same sentence, I was told not to give up all hope yet and not to have high hopes.

I don’t know how to do that.

Because for me, this isn’t a set of multiplying cells.  This is my baby.  And I want it.

NOTES:

-My blood was drawn for hcg levels.  Must go back in 48 hours for round 2 of Ashley The PinCushion.  (I’m actually looking forward to it.)

-I may be: miscarrying, have a blighted ovum, chemical pregnancy, naughty baby that’s hiding from the ultrasound wand (it does look scary), earlier in my pregnancy than we thought due to miscalculations OR fertilization didn’t happen right away.

I’d really appreciate your prayers.  I’m going to go take another pregnancy test (same brand I used when I first find out) to go compare line darkness because, yes, I am that neurotic.  AND, because I can’t not do nothing.  I figure if it’s just as dark as my other one, it means that my levels haven’t plummeted THAT low (as suggested by the “official pee stick”) and maybe then I can sleep tonight.