They say that they’re easier to read, there’s no ambiguity. And I suppose that’s true. But it stares back at you like an accusation.
If it had little legs and little arms, it would leap up and wave its tiny fists in the air. “J’accuse! J’accuse!” it would shout, if it had a tiny throat and mouth. Since it can’t do those things, it’s forced to make its accusations in silence. The silent accusation is no less damning, though.
Its batteries are very good, too, because hours later, its little digital face still reads bright and strong.
To make up for the little accusatory digital, last night I sought the solace of purchasing the trusty traditional early response test, which I used this morning. The side that would produce a line with a positive test remained as pristine white as pure snow. Not even a hint of a line I could obsess over, trying to figure out whether or not it really existed.
I know it’s still a little early, but as of today, I’m 7 days past a 5-day transfer. If I was pregnant, the early response tests would be able to pick it up by now. The fat lady may not have yet sung, but she’s walking on stage right now.