Let's rewind a little this week, shall we cool mamas? To that time before any potty training or shopping mall meltdowns, when you found out you had a silent little peanut growing in your belly. Pregnancy is "the most beautiful time of your life," as some crazy-ass-in-denial-no-drugs-please people like to say. (And if you were someone who chose no drugs when giving birth, please know that I'm not judging. But I err on the cautious side, and decided that I wanted to be blissfully unaware of my body bursting into pieces from the inside-out. Of course this backfired on me. My baby came out the size of a 4 month-old, and no one had the foresight to suggest a C-section. Trust me, there were Not. Enough. Drugs.)
Ahem. Back to the topic at hand. I can only hope that most of you had a more pleasant stick-peeing than I did. Lesson learned: do NOT buy a generic pregnancy test containing 1 measly stick. Put down the expensive bottle of wine (hello, denial), and splurge on the cadillac EPT multi-pack. (Sidenote: I also bought a pint of Ben N Jerrys on the off-chance the test was positive.) The generic stick will show only a tye-dyed pink mess in the window where the pink line should have been.
I know what you're thinking. There was pink, right? Even if it was a blob, I should have been aware that something was up. Well, blame it on 25 year-old-I'm-not-married-I-can't-be-pregnant denial... and the fact that I really, really wanted to try that wine. I went back and bought 4 tests. In the middle of a Michigan blizzard. Yes, I peed on them all, hyperventilated, and took a Xanax. (Oh please, my kid's a genius, so it did little to stunt his development.)
Needless to say, this "magical" experience? Sucked. And I'm fairly certain there will be no more buns in my oven, so I entertain myself with this fantasy: A beautiful, candlelit bathroom (jacuzzi tub optional) with soft music playing, and my husband waiting quietly on the other side of the door. Looking at the pink stick with tears in my eyes (of joy this time, not of the my-life-just-ended variety), throwing open the door and jumping into the husband's arms. Perhaps he is crying too, saying "Now we are a family! I love you!" Cue the Hallelujah chorus. (Balloons and confetti optional.)
I know what you're wondering. Did I eat the Ben N Jerrys? Yes... for breakfast.
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