First off,
let me preface this by saying, I’m fine. I’m actually doing really well. I’m in
a pretty good head space all things considered. And thank you for your concern.
These are all statements I’ve gotten really good at saying, because I’ve been
saying them ad nauseam for two months, to soothe the worries of my aural
audience because dear readers, I have been talking about this. A lot!
Let’s rewind
to four months ago, mid-October, when I first started to notice that my boobs
were on fire. That was a sign. Now my husband and I have been trying for a few
months, having spent more than half of our first year as husband and wife in
two separate countries so despite my age, I wasn’t exactly panicked that it
didn’t happen right away. Your odds go up exponentially with proximity so once
we were in the same state and OMG, the same bed, we made it happen. I knew two
days after what should have been the start of my period but for the sake of due
diligence, I headed off to the drug store to pick up confirmation in the form
of a $12 urinary litmus test.
I wandered
that store for well over half an hour, retracing my steps, back and forth the
sexual aids aisle, the feminine products aisle, the makeup aisle, the candy
aisle (I was pregnant after all), upstairs and downstairs but to no avail. At
last, having exhausted my ideas, I headed to the pharmacy counter and asked
where they might be hiding the pregnancy tests. A nervous young woman explained
that they were kept behind the pharmacy counter, next to the hard core drugs
and the meth lab known as Sudafed. Confused, I queried at the reasoning for
such a decision. After all, I am in a major metropolitan, liberal city in the
arts district, not some backwater district full of politicians who don’t know
the difference between the digestive tract and the reproductive system. She
could offer no reason nor would the manager speak with me. Now understand, I am
a happily remarried, confident, able-bodied, independent woman with an
incredibly supportive husband and family, with no fears or trepidations about
discovering I am with child. However, even I had reservations about proudly
strolling up the pharmacy counter and loudly declaring to an anonymous audience
my assurance that I was most likely knocked up; a fact I wouldn’t reveal to my
own family for another two months. I couldn’t imagine some poor girl, scared
out of her wits already trying to muster the courage to timidly ask permission
to confirm what she already feared. Trust me, the condoms, lubricants and other
sexual aides were all out prominently displayed on the shelves, next to the
treatments for UTIs and Yeast Infections. It is hard to not feel judged and I
was pretty high up on my high horse. Needless to say, I registered my
complaint, paid my money and headed home, little brown bag in hand.
I waited
until the next day so I could utilize that most magical elixir, the elusive
early morning stream. I found my most graceful yoga pose and let it flow,
aiming my stream with the accuracy of a fighter pilot into that little well of
prognostication. Use the force Luke. I put the stick aside, set the timer,
wiped off the seat and washed my pee soaked hands because my fighter pilot was
apparently still flying on a learners permit and by the time I returned, BAM, I
was pregnant. I thought for sure it would be a minute or two to register or
that it would appear slowly like Brigadoon from the mist, but it was a matter
of seconds. Holy crap, I must be super
uber pregnant!
The next few
weeks alternately flew by and went at a snail’s pace, depending upon whether I
was fighting the urge to tell my family or throw up. Luckily, I didn’t have
much in the way of morning sickness, other than the occasional bit of nausea
and my nearly constant fiery hell knockers that would not be contained by any
artifice known to man. Wearing a sports bra became my nightly ritual and my
husband in his zeal to celebrate our upcoming bliss was learning the necessity
of tenderness approaching me like a cornered baby tiger. And then there were…
the “baby rages”…
To Be Continued
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