Aren't Pregnancy Tests Pass/Fail?

My sister had told me that I should be extra sleepy on the day an embryo implants in the uterus lining, and she remembers exactly the day she got pregnant, since she took a nap. I didn't feel the need for a nap.

Roughly a week after the ET, I started feeling... different. Sensitive boobies. Plus a little... something. Undefinable. I took a pee-stick test the first possible moment I could expect to see any results.
I. Got. Another. Line. I'd never gotten another line before (or a plus, or whatever.) Never. No false hope. No miscarriages. Nothing. Not that miscarriages would have been a blessing or anything. But I'd never ever had that little flash of an inkling that my body actually worked properly, or that my eggs or uterus had ever been good enough to at least fool the test. I'd never even gotten anything other than an inconclusive result on the ovulation predictor pee sticks. (I got a line, but fainter than the faintest example shown on the instructions.)
What to do? Call my husband? Wait until he got home? Plan some cute and clever way of telling him? Bah! I called him. But we were both very aware of a few depressing facts. There are false positives, and we had a good risk of miscarriage for the first trimester.

Some time in October, 2007:
A few days after my in-home test, they had me come in for a blood test. On my way to work after, they give me a call.
Nurse: "So, we got your test results back. 110."
Me: "Umm.. Okay." Gee. I'd thought this was a pass/fail test. I didn't realize we got graded! 110. What does this even MEAN?
Nurse: "Oh. You don't sound very excited."
Me: Suck it, bee-otch. "Um. Should I be? Does 110 mean I'm pregnant?"
Nurse: "Oh! Ha ha! Yes! It's a very high result. It may mean multiples."
Well. Every silver lining has a cloud! :) But really, this was a silver lining, with a possibly slightly less silver lining. I mean, multiples would be hard. I mean hard. But we were emotionally prepared to embrace the concept.

We decided we'd tell no one until the second trimester.
That lasted until about 30 seconds after encountering any female in our immediate families. I think I was able to stand firm for the first few weeks. Except at work. I mean, they all knew what was going on. It's hard to get them to juggle schedules at the last minute, or give you a moment to pop back and jab needles into your tummy during your shift, unless they kind of know what's going on. And, being in pharmacy, they could all do math. They knew when I'd be able to start getting test results.

18 October, 2007:
I forget how many weeks along I was when I went in for my first ultrasound (math says... 30 days after fertilization... so 4 weeks. But then you add 2 for the average weeks before ovulation. In a normal conception.) But this one would tell us how many barnacles I'd be hosting. So naturally, my husband was out of the country! He actually had a convention for work in Germany, which was a huge opportunity for him, and it was a real treat for him to get to go. I think this was only the second time he'd been chosen to go to this annual event, and he'd been working in this field for almost 14 years at this point. So I only begrudged him a little because it was impractical for me to go with him. I've only ever been to Canada before. (And Mexico when I was 2, but I don't remember.)
His sister harassed me until I acquiesced offered to come with me to my first ultrasound. She snapped pictures of the whole thing. Plus I got U/S printouts. And a CD with all the pics. She rushed home to email him a picture of the ultrasound after. I got to go to work after.
They found one fetus. One beautiful, perfect, booger-shaped little blob. I'm pretty sure I cried like a little girl. With joy. With relief. But mostly joy.

After I got back to my car I called my husband. He was at lunch (or dinner. Some kind of meal) with peers. He tried to play cool and not say stuff that would make them ask what was happening, but he failed, and got to tell a bunch of industry folk our little tale of joy (so far!)

We had a substitute pharmacist at work, so she got to hear my news. Then she says the stupidest, least thought-out comment humanly possible.
RPh: "Well. I hear that the third one's the charm! You usually lose two before you get lucky."
Me: [crushed and horrified] "Um. This is my first pregnancy."
RPh: "Oh yes. I meant that you lost the other two that were transfered in."
Um. Thanks. I hadn't ever thought about it that way. Here I was, stupidly thankful for the one that "took," blissfully ignorant of the fact that this meant I had lost two of my babies. They didn't last more than a few weeks, if that long. But they had been alive. My babies. Thanks for nothing, Bitch.