I’m not pregnant. The three tests with cross expressions on their faces that are sitting in my bathroom trash confirmed it.
Considering that I have an IUD siting snugly in my uterus this should come as no surprise.
But, I woke up yesterday feeling like shit. My stomach was bubbly and crampy and I had heartburn radiating from my chest. Plus, I’ve been exhausted for weeks.
I bet you’re pregnant, Jeff suggested.
No, I responded. Impossible. I just had one too many Fiber One bars. And, I better not be. We cannot have a baby now.
But as the day wore on, I became less sure.
I cried at the end of Hotel for Dogs. I drank lemon tea and toast. I brainstormed just how we were going to tell the kids that we had to get rid of the puppy, but they would get a new sibling instead. I drafted announcement blog posts in my head. I found myself protecting my belly as Evan pounced on top of it. I cuddled with him on the couch and for one brief moment thought it might not be so bad to have another.
But, Jeff brought home a pack of tests and each of them instantly resulted in a single straight line.
This is a good thing. I would have been in hysterics if they were positive. We cannot afford a baby. It would have been a mess.
I just wish I didn’t feel so disappointed.
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