If you were here, I'd offer you some tea and then wow you with my 2-test series of positive HPTs. They are still too faint to scan or photograph well, so you really need to be in the same room to appreciate yesterday's whispery pink test line (which showed up after several minutes) and its remarkable transformation into today's "Show me your urine, and I'll show you my face" bubblegum-hued beauty.
I know. It is inappropriately early to squawk about being pregnant. Gauche, really. I am only 10dpo/7dp3dt. Too many unknowns. And way too many knowns: 43 years old. Low odds for sustained success. First-hand experience losing a chromosomally abnormal fetus made from a perfect-looking embryo. The betas might stink and the baby might die. (Harsh, yes, but I want to be clear that I see clearly through my misty-gray glasses.)
However, I've made a personal vow to embrace the light of this last chance. I'm choosing hopefulness over gloom and choosing it NOW. Surely that will be difficult some days. But I've got it covered today.