Pregnancy After Loss: Pee-on-a-Stick Addict
If you’ve ever hovered over a countertop covered in pregnancy tests, holding your breath and praying for a line — any line — you’re not alone.
If you’ve spent hours analyzing line darkness, angle, and progression like a forensic investigator with a highlighter, I see you.
Pregnancy after loss does something to your brain. A positive test doesn’t bring immediate joy; it often brings panic. Hope and fear crash into each other the moment you see that second line. And for many of us, that fear becomes an obsession, one that involves dozens of tests, drying out your checking account right alongside your hope.
I was deep in that space. The “POAS” (pee-on-a-stick) addict stage. Every morning, same time, same brand, same lighting. Because I wasn’t testing to find out anymore — I was testing to reassure myself. I needed proof the line was getting darker. Proof that I was still pregnant. Proof that this time, it might be okay.
But here's the thing no one tells you about line progression: it is not science. It is not linear. It can drive you absolutely mad.
Some days the line looked darker, and my heart would flutter with hope. Other days it looked the same or even lighter — and I would spiral, convinced it was over before it began. I once convinced myself I was miscarrying again because the lighting in my bathroom made my test look “off.”
This stage; this test-hoarding, line-analyzing, hope-on-a-hinge madness, is rarely talked about. But it's real. It's common. And it deserves compassion.
Pregnancy after loss is full of moments like this. Moments where you’re stuck between wanting to protect your heart and wanting to believe. Where you’re grieving the innocence you lost and trying desperately to trust your body again.
So if you’re here, knee-deep in wrappers and wondering if five tests today is too many, let me say this:
🧡 You’re not crazy.
🧡 You’re not being dramatic.
🧡 You’re coping the best way you know how.
But also, if you can, take a deep breath. Set the test down. Remember that no matter how many sticks you pee on, they cannot guarantee peace. They cannot prevent loss. And they do not determine your worth.
You are already doing the brave thing. You are waking up each day and choosing to hope again. And that is more powerful than any second line could ever be.
If this resonates with you, I hope you feel less alone.
There’s no right way to navigate pregnancy after loss, only your way. With love, with grace, and maybe a small trash can full of First Response wrappers.