Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Thinking, that's all: Negatives

So, I took not one, not two, but THREE pregnancy test this past week.

And I failed each of them.

Or maybe I passed each one.

I don't really know.

Because we're not actually trying to have another baby right now, so getting negatives would denote passing them.

But we do actually want another baby at some point, so that would mean failing them?

Probably, it seems kind of like a waste of time and energy and money to take an additional {or two} tests after the initial do-not-pass-go, there-will--NOT-be another-baby-in-nine-months negative results. {And by the way, they don't just give you one negative sign now; it's actually TWO because the control window is a negative sign, too -- how's that for subliminal whatever.}

Admittedly, the first negative test was kind of a relief because at first thought of being pregnant, only the logistics raced through my spinning mind: I still have five to ten more pounds to lose; I kind of wanted to be able to saunter not waddle down the aisle at my sister's early September wedding; I like soaking up the sun outside with the boys during the summer instead of moaning on the couch and puking my guts out into the toilet every few hours.

But then more days passed and I began to get ohmyHOLYWOW nauseaous, which inevitably led to thoughts about the fruits of a pregnancy -- a most beautiful, squishy, snugly baby.

All the while, Aunt Flow hasn't even bothered to call to tell me she's running more than a week late, so I'm left wondering {still wondering} if she's really gonna show.

And I'm also left with some serious pangs of hope -- because, you know, whenever there is the prospect of newness, new life, hope and all the promise that is bundled in the package of a new baby -- it kind of burrows itself into the heart's soil and begins to take root.

So much so that despite the many {um, many} variables of an unplanned pregnancy, there's a bit of a sinking feeling that settles into the gut with the third negative test.

So, yeah, I took THREE pregnancy tests this week.

And all I got were three sticks full of pee, no clarity and a cacophony of emotions I'm not sure how to swallow.

Oh, and an irritating {on-going} lesson in patience.