Motherhood

A few days ago I somehow got it into my head that I was pregnant. Sure, I have an IUD crammed up inside of me but there is a 0.7% chance that that will fail. Plus, it wouldn’t have been immaculate conception or whatever because I had had sex exactly once since my last period. At the risk of irking out some people with period talk, because I know it is a sensitive topic for some, my period had tried to start earlier in the week, acted like it was going to and then just stopped without actually happening. I think I’ve heard that pregnant women can have some spotting but not an actual period, and I thought that was what that was. Not only that, but lately I’ve been having these wild urges to pee more often than normal. Oh God, I was pregnant.

Thinking about yourself like you are pregnant brings about a change in you. I started to feel all mother-like, and that added to the belief that I was pregnant, which made me feel even more mother-like. It was a vicious cycle. I felt like there was a person inside me. Sure, I’m pro-choice, but would I really get an abortion myself? I don’t think so. I’d have to have this baby. And once I carry it to term, I wouldn’t be able to give it up for adoption, I’d definitely want to keep it.

This could have been a good thing. I had wanted change in my life. Having a baby wasn’t exactly what I had had in mind, but it was certainly change. I thought about baby names. If it were a girl I’d name her Emily. But it wouldn’t be a girl, it would be a boy, so the baby would be named Zebulon, which is a pretty awesome name for a boy.

My biggest problem was that I wasn’t financially independent. Sure, I wasn’t mature enough emotionally either. I mean, I was way too selfish to be a mom. But I always thought that having a baby is what makes that change. I remember nights at stable talking to night staff. The guy who was working the night shift at stable once told me that becoming a parent is weird, because suddenly there is something you love more than yourself. So I’m going to be naive and say I think I could handle it. Not that it wouldn’t be hard, but I could get through it. Of course, there are some people who aren’t fit to be parents, and having a kid doesn’t change the fact that they are selfish as fuck. But for some reason I don’t think I am one of these people.

After telling my mom and my sister that I was probably pregnant, I went to bible study, which takes place at my apartment complex. A lady brought her kid there, a little boy who was probably younger than two. He came over and touched my leg. I smiled at him. Later, while we were discussing the bible, the little boy became fascinated with my bracelet. And then my watch. I flashed the light on it for him. He laughed. He was extremely fascinated with my watch. He was carrying around a highlighter. I took it from him, and spun it around in a circle on the coffee table. He laughed like this was hysterical. I did it repeatedly and every time I did it he would laugh.

The next day I made an appointment to get tested. I got dressed, first putting on one of my Lane Bryant maternity-style tops from my fat days. Then I changed my mind and put on my Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show shirt. I sat and drank my coffee and contemplated deeply. Was I really pregnant? I realized that deep down I knew that I wasn’t. I walked to the doctor, which took between thirty and fourty minutes. When I went to pee, I noticed that I had started to menstruate. I peed in the cup anyway and waited in the waiting room. The lady called me in and acted kind of weird and told me I had my period and that meant it was negative and that it was a waste of a test. So that was the end of that. I was relieved.

So anyway, now I’m free to continue to pursue my dreams without the burden of a child. I am happy with this outcome.