So James comes home this weekend and finds me gagging into a trashcan, which I have been doing for about 12 days now, as well as being moody and sleeping a lot. And suddenly it hits me.
"You think you might be pregnant?" I ask myself.
I know I didn't just say the "P" word.
So I catapult off the bed and grab my handy dandy calendar that I have been keeping for Provera (beating my cycles into normal, 28 day, moderate bleeding submission) purposes, and my heart drops about five feet.
THREE
DAYS
LATE.
I've been like clockwork
SINCE
JANUARY.
No. Oh no. NO NO NO. Do you hear me, uterus? I SAID NO. I thought you got the hint when the doctor singed your tubes and clamped them shut. 99.99% effective in preventing pregnancy. Look, here's the pamphlet. LOOK, YOU MORONIC UTERUS. THIS says NO, and I say NO.
She laughed at me.
So after I scraped myself off the floor and started breathing again, I calmly (HYPERVENTILATINGLY) informed James that (YOU BASTARD WITH THE SUPERSONIC SPERM, LOOK WHAT YOU DID!!) we were in a predicament.
No. I just have a stomach bug. Really. REALLY.
But the next day, after chugging a half bottle of Pepto Bismol for nausea and almost throwing up at the sight of my once beloved ice cream, I decided maybe we should get a test. Just to ease my mind because James is clearly elated. He agrees with me that we want no more children, this would be devastating, kids are expensive, I can't handle three kids James I can't it's not going to happen, but he's glowing. HE wants a football team. I want my sanity.
So we buy one. And I do my thing.
And it's NEGATIVE.
You stupid gelatinous *$#^%!! Next time you do a hormonal test check-up, let me know!! That was NOT funny! Stupid.
Turns out it was a bug, because James has it now. And ole Aunt Flo made her debut yesterday. Stupid hormones.
"You think you might be pregnant?" I ask myself.
I know I didn't just say the "P" word.
So I catapult off the bed and grab my handy dandy calendar that I have been keeping for Provera (beating my cycles into normal, 28 day, moderate bleeding submission) purposes, and my heart drops about five feet.
THREE
DAYS
LATE.
I've been like clockwork
SINCE
JANUARY.
No. Oh no. NO NO NO. Do you hear me, uterus? I SAID NO. I thought you got the hint when the doctor singed your tubes and clamped them shut. 99.99% effective in preventing pregnancy. Look, here's the pamphlet. LOOK, YOU MORONIC UTERUS. THIS says NO, and I say NO.
She laughed at me.
So after I scraped myself off the floor and started breathing again, I calmly (HYPERVENTILATINGLY) informed James that (YOU BASTARD WITH THE SUPERSONIC SPERM, LOOK WHAT YOU DID!!) we were in a predicament.
No. I just have a stomach bug. Really. REALLY.
But the next day, after chugging a half bottle of Pepto Bismol for nausea and almost throwing up at the sight of my once beloved ice cream, I decided maybe we should get a test. Just to ease my mind because James is clearly elated. He agrees with me that we want no more children, this would be devastating, kids are expensive, I can't handle three kids James I can't it's not going to happen, but he's glowing. HE wants a football team. I want my sanity.
So we buy one. And I do my thing.
And it's NEGATIVE.
You stupid gelatinous *$#^%!! Next time you do a hormonal test check-up, let me know!! That was NOT funny! Stupid.
Turns out it was a bug, because James has it now. And ole Aunt Flo made her debut yesterday. Stupid hormones.
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