Tuesday, July 27, 2010

+ or -

On Sunday of this past weekend, I did something for the first time ever: took a pregnancy test.


NOT pregnant.  (Ha ha ha my funny joke).

Anyway.  I didn't actually think I was pregnant.  When telling Jonathan I was going to grab a kit at Walgreens, I followed it with, "but I'm 99.999% sure I'm not."  (I wanted to take one before going to the doctor this Friday.  I had a long talk with the nurse practitioner last week about a prescription I need and I assured her that she could go ahead and prescribe it - because I'm not pregnant.  But she said I needed to make an appointment regardless.  So even though I knew [99.9999%] I wasn't, I figured I better go into the thing 100% sure [because how much of a fool would I look like if I actually was and had so vehemently argued that I wasn't?].)

For me it wasn't a big deal.  Meant nothing, actually, because I knew I wasn't pregnant.  But I couldn't help thinking about how loaded the simple act of peeing on a stick could be in other situations.

I thought about the woman who desperately doesn't want to be pregnant.  She holds the stick in her hand, probably about to puke from (hopefully just) nerves.  The two minutes drag by, while she tries to keep her mind in the present.  "No need to worry about something that isn't even confirmed yet" her mind says to the empty bathroom. **  And then the two possible outcomes: either a huge sigh of relief; or a huge sigh in deflation - perhaps both accompanied by tears.

I thought about the woman who desperately wants to be pregnant.  Her stomach is a cage of butterflies while she positions the stick just perfectly in her stream of urine so she can maximize the amount that's absorbed by the little pad.  Perhaps her husband is in the bathroom with her.  They stare at the plastic, hoping, willing, a plus sign to appear.  They know a simple "+" would change their lives forever - and they want it.  **  And then their two possible outcomes: pure joy, or pure sadness - also, perhaps both accompanied by tears.

I thought about the woman who desperately wants to be pregnant, and has tried so many times, always getting a "-" sign.  As she unwraps the package, she's reminded of the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that.  She knows exactly how to do it: where to place the stick, where to rest the stick during the 2 minutes, and sadly, in which trashcan to dispose of the "-" stick.  She's anxious, but somewhat deflated to begin with.  Her husband might not even be with her this time.  **  And then her two possible outcomes: shocked, unabashed joy; or sadness - the same sadness she's felt every time, but a little more intense each negative.

And finally, I thought about future me.  Future me that I think will soon be ready for scenario two.  Future me who hopefully won't know the pain of scenario three, or the fright of scenario one.  Future me who wants the positive; present-day me who's starting to warm up to the "+."

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