Pregnant Pause

Four days ago, I was kind of pretty sure that I was pregnant.  This morning, Mother Nature, along with two negative pregnancy tests, have assured me that I am not pregnant.  Today, I am equal parts relieved and sad by confirmation of no bun in oven.    

It all started 37 days ago when a Certain Good Friend was all...you don’t keep track of your period?  (Yeah. Girls talk about their PERIODS, okay?)  And I was all, um, no.  It just comes. I get cranky, I get bloated, I get a zit, I cry a lot, and then It comes. It’s never not come...oh....except for that one unexpected time when It didn’t come..now referred to as FIRST BORN.  

The point is, I decided, 37 days ago, that maybe Certain Good Friend was right.  It really wouldn’t take too much of an effort to just make a mark in my calendar when I got It, even though that would mean finding a pen, and a calendar.  Which I did and so I did. 

And then, I’m sitting around, feeling cranky, bloated, and sad about the zit on my chin when I realize, oh...well, It must be coming.  Any day now.  It should be happening.  Hmmm.  Why isn’t it happening?    Where is that calendar?  Maybe I should count the days.  31?  31 days?  No.  Let me count again.  31.  Hmmm.  Found out I was pregnant with Daughter at 32 days.  No.  I can’t be!  With a .01% chance?  Impossible.  (Practically.)

Day 32.  Day 33.  Day 34.  Day 34 I feel nauseous.  I was dragging on my run.  I had a headache.  OH SHIT I’M TOTALLY PREGNANT.

Here, a sampling of thoughts that were spinning right round baby right round the duration of Day 34:

Shit.

Oh, a baby!  I love babies.  I want a baby.  Yeah!  A baby.

Crap.

How will Son and Daughter take it?

I’m doomed.

Oh, God, Husband might pass out.

Good. Lord.

I always said I wanted another one.

Shit.

I do want another one.  Do I want one right now?  

Oh, crap.

Oh, God, I don’t want to have to lose all that weight again.

Motherf*&#@er.

Such a fun summer planned.

Damn it.

Now a sober summer.  BOO sober summer!

BOO.

The playroom will have to go back to a nursery.

Annoying.

It was so nice to have that room as a playroom.

Damn it.

I love babies.  I want a baby.

Lord.

But I just got my mojo back.  A baby, although one that will surely be a beautiful genius, will totally kill my mojo for at least one year.

I liked my mojo.

Goodbye mojo.

Hello leaky boobs and sleepless nights.

I need a drink.

Crap.

Evening 34: Husband bought pregnancy test and heartburn medicine.  Test: negative.  Oh.  

Day 35: second test.  Negative.  Really?

Day 36: Waiting.

Day 37: It arrives.  Doesn’t even apologize for being tardy.  Just shows up, like, oh yeah...sorry about that, lady.  Happens sometimes.  Get over it. (Yeah, my period is totally a dude.  Obviously.)

So, now I’m getting over it.  Summer plans resumed.  Thoughts of cooing baby pushed out of mind.  And then realized that I DO want another baby...but I could wait a couple of years.  And also, Husband didn’t pass out when confronted with possible third child. Didn’t have anxiety.  Gave me a hug and said, it would be wonderful.  

It will be wonderful.  One day.

And Husband...Husband is wonderful.

And, most likely, relieved.  For now.