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Are You Pregnant, Crystal?

April 16, 2015

“Hey gang,” I said weakly to the secretaries on Tuesday morning.

“You don’t sound so hot,” Secretary One said.

“Yeah, are you feeling any better?” Secretary Two asked.

I had taken the day off on Monday to go to the doctor, talk to my pastor — hopefully talk to my counselor — see my chiropractor, and just relax and vomit and … in peace.

“I’m better, but not all better,” I said with a laugh.

“What did the doctor say?” Secretary Two asked.

“Oh, she said I don’t have a virus or anything.”

“But you still don’t feel good? What’s wrong?” Secretary One.

“No. I’ve been throwing up the last two days and my stomach has been mad at me. Food is kind of disgusting to me right now,” I replied.

Secretary Two then said, “Sounds like stress,” as Secretary One mouthed the words, “Are you pregnant?” and one of the paraprofessionals who had been listening said, “It sounds like you’re pregnant?”

“Oh, my, are you?” asked Secretary Two.

“No,” I said with a little laugh.”I think I’m just really sad.”

I probably should have kids...I mean I already have the stretch marks.

I probably should have kids…I mean I already have the stretch marks.

Are you pregnant? There’s no way, right?

And then I did the math…when was the last time? And what day is it today? I don’t think so…

Well, maybe.

And the thought made me happy. Any time in the past when I thought pregnancy was a possibility I would immediately panic and almost faint. Thoughts like, “I can’t keep another human alive.” would flood my brain. Fears about being a single mom, and worse. But this time, the idea of being pregnant was nice. Something close to relief.

Relief. It’s weird but it was the exact feeling. Like the oppressive sadness of my situation and any darkness sitting on me was pretty instantly lifted.

And my second thought was, “What the fuck?”

I guess I found it intriguing. And scary as hell, of course. I don’t want to be a single mother…ever if I can help it. But I would keep a child if I were pregnant. And honestly, as hard as it would be, a kid that was half me and half Rick would be amazing.

And hell, that would instantly push me in the right direction as far as looking toward the future instead of the past.

So many things to sort through…and then the bell rang. Time to teach a bunch of other people’s kids.

I got to work, but the idea flitted in and out of my head throughout the day. “I am due to get my period soon…but I haven’t yet.” And from time to time I would have a pang in my uterus. Maybe I was getting my period. Maybe I was…not.

The more I thought about it, the more I found myself kind of hoping I was pregnant.

Again, what the F…

I’ve never really wanted kids. The only times in my life that I have ever entertained the thought are when my college boyfriend Chris mentioned it and I begrudgingly considered it, and times when I have been deeply in love with someone else. When the idea of creating something that is half me and half him was thrilling.

And I had thought about it in reference to Rick. But I knew that was not something he would be able to deal with anytime soon. So I never really even talked to him about it. And I never got to the point where I allowed myself to even want it — because it was impractical.

But I kind of wanted it all day today. Is it my biological clock? Are those last 60 eggs in me dying to be put to use? (Well, either way they are dying.)

Is there some diabolical woman part of me that thinks I could have him back somehow if I had his kid?

But then, I would have him, in a way, if I had his kid — even if I never saw him again. I’d have a great piece of him everyday. A piece of him that would not only allow me to love it, but absolutely demand it.

Or maybe I have just matured to the point that the crushing fear that I would not be able to keep a kid alive is outweighed by the amount of love that I currently have to give, and the few acceptable outlets I have for that love.

Well I had to get a test after work. It was the first thing I did: go home and pee on a stick. Three minutes later, I knew the answer. A half an hour later my little red friend came. So, that’s ten dollars I will never get back.

And I am disappointed. And I’m still not sure exactly why.

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