I had been a giant ball of emotions all weekend. Most if them in the depressive/pessimistic realm. Following these were brief bouts of normalcy only to be blindsided by a breakdown in the car on the way home from Target when Greg mentioned that I had a few moments where I reminded him of Michael on "The Office." On Friday I thought it could be an extreme case of PMS, only I was due to have a period about two weeks ago (I did have some spotting and ohmygodIcan'tbelieveI'mgoingintothesedetailsonmyblog). It wasn't until Sunday afternoon when we were watching an episode of Dexter where he knocks up his girlfriend that I nudged Greg and said "I think we need to pick up a pee-stick later."
"Yeah. Did you see that jar of pickles we JUST bought this morning? There are two left. And unless I magically hit a growth spurt in my boobs, I just...We need to pick up a damn stick."
I have an IUD. But like any female, the second my hormones even resemble that of a pregnant womans I freak out, throw logic out the window and immediately think "fuck, I'm having baby." I googled "pregnancy with an IUD" and got conflicting messages. It seemed that although one person hasn't ever gotten pregnant on one they DID know a distant aunt who had. Such is the internet.
Jack handed me his shoes to say "hey crazy could-be-pregnant lady, lets go to the park." And no idea in the history of ideas could have been better. I needed to get away from the house. I needed to get away from WebMD and t.v. shows with pregnant girlfriends and wives and the jar of pickles with only two future casualties floating in it's delightful pickle-y juice.
Greg pushed Jack in the swing and I sat in the sand and drew spirals with broken sticks. We discussed "what could happen" while Jack obliviously swung higher to meet the clouds. "Why are things so cloudy right now."
Although we knew if I was indeed pregnant, we'd push through and make it, it still wasn't desired. We're not drowning but we're not where we'd ideally like to be financially and a baby would be a huge weight. And more than that, we're happy with just us. Greg and I and Jack. I remember when we brought home the two-day puppy I immediately felt guilty as I held it in my lap and cooed over it while Jack sat in his carseat on the way home. I felt like I betrayed him by giving my attention and affection to another thing that wasn't him. And if that was just a puppy, I couldn't imagine another child. THIS IS WHY I HAVE THE DAMN IUD IN THE FIRST PLACE!
We stopped at Wal-Green's on the way home. Greg asked what kind of test I wanted before running in to pick it up for me (I love this man). When we got home I shunned the package until GREG had to know. I did the deed and a minute passed before I saw a relieving negative.
I smiled like the Cheshire Cat and went on a cleaning frenzy (I do this in times of celebration AND despair...don't ask). Before I turned on the vacuum Greg, holding Jack in his lap, said "well, it wouldn't be such a bad thing..."
And I knew I had married the right person. A person that picks up pregnancy tests for you and doesn't care if you eat all the pickles or don't bother to shave your legs for more than two (okay three) days. A person that pushes your son in the swings and takes the pizza out of the oven because you're chicken-shit about getting burned and puts red socks on your sons feet even if it doesn't match his light blue shorts. A person who says "it'll be okay" when you find out you're pregnant for the first time on accident and three years later still wouldn't mind.
There is a negative pregnancy test in my bathroom wastebasket. Yet all around me are positives.