you are devil’s foreplay

So. All of the last week and part of this I suspected I was pregnant. My period was late and mine is never late. Of course I bought a pregnancy test and couldn’t wait to do it. And because I also needed a heavy party I decided that taking a pregnancy test in fucking woods is a brilliant idea.

Matter of fact, there’s no difference where exactly you do your peeing. I did it in the woods, to a plastic cup, the kind I used later to drink gin and tonic from. And my friend was with me, drinking and smoking and talking about how she has a pregnancy-scare also.

Test was negative. And I partied. Hard. So hard that if I would’ve drunk texted that night it would’ve said something along the lines: “I just skinny-dipped with a bartender.”

So, anyway. Test was negative but actually I wasn’t very convinced. I have experience - they might not show an accurate result so early on. BUT I also have an experience that says that SOMETHING shows, a faint line, something. There was nothing. Negative, negative, negative.

But I still bought two more tests this Tuesday and discovered myself making plans to tell my boss that she can’t put me in night-shifts anymore and picking out baby names.

And of course, my uterus, sweet thing that she is, saw that I had bought two (!) more tests and decided: “Hell, no! Let’s show her, girls!” and unleashed the whole fury of period (and period pain) on me the next morning. No need for those tests, then.

But I also discovered that I was bloody upset about it. I think that 90% of me actually hoped that this second line will appear. That I was pregnant. And now I’m wallowing in misery because I really really wanted this to happen.

And there are very many reasons why it’s not a good time yet. We still don’t know what happens to us next spring when he graduates. I still don’t have an actual paying job (this one is, I sincerely hope, temporary), I still have loads of debts, I still smoke, we have no financial security, I still have to take meds to stay like a functioning human being and yadayadayada.

But why can’t I shake off this nagging feeling that it actually IS the right time?

And I don’t know what to do about it or how to talk about it or…

And how do I know in the future that right time has come? There sure as hell will be no flaming letters in the sky saying. “Do it! Conceive now!”

I don’t know what it is. Hormones? It sure isn’t the pain of loss, anymore, of that I’m sure. It is deep desire to have kids with him and to start The Real Life already and to be something more, something much more meaningful that I am now.

But for now - no two blue lines for me.