Pregnancy Test

My cycles are off, I hope. I mean, I just had a baby and I’m a little late. I’m not pregnant. No, I can’t be pregnant. Definitely not pregnant.

. . .

Fuck, what if I’m pregnant?! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I don’t want a baby. Granted, I did the other week but now? NO, not anymore. Buuut maybe we can give baby Ali a sister! :) What?? Shut up. We are not having a baby. Stop thinking about shit like that . . . Aww and neeewborn onsies, ohh man. It’ll be okay if we do. Ohh, God, how am I going to tell Jarod.

I sat in the small, bleak doctor's office by myself freaking out. I scheduled this appointment two weeks ago thinking that I would have my period by now, I should have had it four days ago. My last cycle, right after getting off the Pill, was 28 days long . . . and now it was day 32. I took a pregnancy test two days ago and a clear negative etched into it’s single line. I’m not pregnant; it said negative. Whew.

But two days later, I sat on a sterile piece of noisy white paper that lined the patient's bed, a grieving reminder that I was one of many that came through these doors, one of many that sat waiting patiently for a doctor to come. I stared at the lone picture on the wall that tried to convey a sense of warmth into the room but failed to engulf the cold indifference the metal blood pressure monitor, on the adjacent wall, transmitted. I waited for a doctor, for a nurse, for anyone to tell me the results.

With my heart pounding loudly against the insides of my chest, my thoughts swirled from happiness to "ahh, what now?!" I thought about how I would hate myself for not wanting something that I would love so much, so freely, as I sat there waiting for much too long with my own crazed thoughts.

I arrived to my appointment with a bit concern about where the heck my period was but I wasn't too alarmed at all: 1) the psychic across the street from the mall that read my palms in exchange for $40 said we would only have three kids (don't judge me, I needed something to hold on it) 2) it's not uncommon for my cycles to be this long, it's right on cue, so any day now . . . any day now . . . okay, where the hell is it!?!

"Did you have unprotected sex two weeks ago?" asked the nurse with her eyebrows raised in curiosity and slight, unintentional judgement after I explained my situation.

"Yes," was the only word I replied and grieved at the sound of my own stupidity. We were "trying" and didn't mind if we had a fourth child then but I didn't want to explain my own chaotic life choices and the swiftness of our change of heart on something as HUGE as another child so instead I shrink into the stupidity that was clearly stamped across my forehead.

But would Jarod's lucky socks work??

The door opened and my doctor smiled charismatically at me as he asked me how the "hairless, skinny bitch" was.

Ohhh, God. He read the one blog where I told people to "suck it" and deemed the importance and how badly I wanted to be a "skinny bitch." Somehow I forgot people in my real-life actually can and do read these.



Damn.

This day was getting better by the second.

And to top it off, somehow notes weren't passed, messages weren't received and he had no idea that I had been waiting there for the results of my test.

"Ohh, I'll check that right now," he got up and apologized as the bullets of sweat seeped down my armpits, my body shook with anxiousness that I could not calm and my heart felt as if there was an impending explosion about to erupt.

I'm not pregnant. I'm not pregnant. What if I'm pregnant!? Fuck.

"You're not pregnant."

Ohh, thank God.

Can I get a click, a vote, for not being pregnant!? :)