My friend Jake and I would often talk about when you buy a lottery ticket, what you're really buying is that one day, two days or whatever where you really get to play 'What if". Its a chance at a plausible fantasy.
Last night, a two pack E.P.T. was my lottery ticket.
I've had some strange body and behavior changes going on that closely mirrored my memories of a brief pregnancy over a decade ago. I joked about it with Dave, saying "whatever, I'm probably just knocked up". He replied "I was about to say the same thing".
David is well aware of the 99% chance that I will not get pregnant without serious medical intervention. It was the first thing I told him when he first talked about getting married. He said he'd love a family just as he knew I did, and would be willing to try whatever I wanted and if it never happened, then so be it. He was willing to be along for the ride, however far it took us.
I took David to his rehearsal at a quarter to seven then went to the store to get supplies for dinner for the week. And a pregnancy test. Just to....i don't know because just like when I throw $5 on a Quick Pick, I knew coming up a winner was highly unlikely.
I picked him up at nine, purchases in the back.
I come in, tell him to start putting stuff away so i can run to the restroom. He doesnt ask why I have one of the shopping bags under my arm.
I wait the 3 required minutes plus 2 more just in case. I tuck the wrapper down into the bottom of the wastebasket, under a two month old copy of Rolling Stone. The test is triple wrapped in toilet paper to sneak into the big trashcan in the kitchen. This was to be my secret. No point in even getting his hopes up.
But when I open the door and he smiles at me, I rush past him. I get to the bedroom door before shouting "Not pregnant. Just for the record" over my shoulder. I march into the kitchen and push the test down as far as it will go just as he says "Would have been cool...."
I clench my teeth to keep from crying. I can't look him in the eye. Jeans. Thrown to the back of the closet. Shirt. Into the hamper. The strength of my fight to keep stoic can only be compared to the strength in which I wished for that 2nd pink line in the window just minutes before. For the second time, my strength wouldn't be enough.
I lowered my head and let huge tears roll down my cheeks. He reminds me how, no matter what, child or no child, he isn't going anywhere. How, if its just us for the rest of our lives, so be it. He is saying all the right things. Too bad he wasn't saying them to someone who could logically hear it.
I felt guilty. This was no longer my cross to bear. He too would have to now know the feelings of filling out paper after paper for months on end, just to be told that an adoption program was suddenly "on hold". He would have to deal with a wife who went to doctor visit after doctor visit just to be told "still nothing". He told me he loved me enough to want to go through it with me. I told him I loved him enough to wish he didn't have to.
Half an hour later, I was able to pull myself together enough to attempt to go to sleep.
This morning? Still feel hurt. Not as bad as the expected let down of last night, but still...yeah. Empty. And while its wonderful to know that I have someone here who is there to hold my head as i cry, knowing that this is just the first of many times we have this conversation is disappointing.
Last night, a two pack E.P.T. was my lottery ticket.
I've had some strange body and behavior changes going on that closely mirrored my memories of a brief pregnancy over a decade ago. I joked about it with Dave, saying "whatever, I'm probably just knocked up". He replied "I was about to say the same thing".
David is well aware of the 99% chance that I will not get pregnant without serious medical intervention. It was the first thing I told him when he first talked about getting married. He said he'd love a family just as he knew I did, and would be willing to try whatever I wanted and if it never happened, then so be it. He was willing to be along for the ride, however far it took us.
I took David to his rehearsal at a quarter to seven then went to the store to get supplies for dinner for the week. And a pregnancy test. Just to....i don't know because just like when I throw $5 on a Quick Pick, I knew coming up a winner was highly unlikely.
I picked him up at nine, purchases in the back.
I come in, tell him to start putting stuff away so i can run to the restroom. He doesnt ask why I have one of the shopping bags under my arm.
I wait the 3 required minutes plus 2 more just in case. I tuck the wrapper down into the bottom of the wastebasket, under a two month old copy of Rolling Stone. The test is triple wrapped in toilet paper to sneak into the big trashcan in the kitchen. This was to be my secret. No point in even getting his hopes up.
But when I open the door and he smiles at me, I rush past him. I get to the bedroom door before shouting "Not pregnant. Just for the record" over my shoulder. I march into the kitchen and push the test down as far as it will go just as he says "Would have been cool...."
I clench my teeth to keep from crying. I can't look him in the eye. Jeans. Thrown to the back of the closet. Shirt. Into the hamper. The strength of my fight to keep stoic can only be compared to the strength in which I wished for that 2nd pink line in the window just minutes before. For the second time, my strength wouldn't be enough.
I lowered my head and let huge tears roll down my cheeks. He reminds me how, no matter what, child or no child, he isn't going anywhere. How, if its just us for the rest of our lives, so be it. He is saying all the right things. Too bad he wasn't saying them to someone who could logically hear it.
I felt guilty. This was no longer my cross to bear. He too would have to now know the feelings of filling out paper after paper for months on end, just to be told that an adoption program was suddenly "on hold". He would have to deal with a wife who went to doctor visit after doctor visit just to be told "still nothing". He told me he loved me enough to want to go through it with me. I told him I loved him enough to wish he didn't have to.
Half an hour later, I was able to pull myself together enough to attempt to go to sleep.
This morning? Still feel hurt. Not as bad as the expected let down of last night, but still...yeah. Empty. And while its wonderful to know that I have someone here who is there to hold my head as i cry, knowing that this is just the first of many times we have this conversation is disappointing.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
toothpickmoe:
datsun put it very well. It can be a harrowing thing to not be alone anymore, even after wanting it. You aren't alone anymore, though, and that is a good thing.
toothpickmoe:
Indeed. Took me a while to get used to the fact that I couldn't just curl up into a ball and hide when I wanted to. Sharing your life with someone is a constant learning experience if you're doing it right. 