Happy Saint Patrick's Day.
I'm surrounded by a sea of green....
and pink.
and blue.
Last night I took three pregnancy tests from ClearBlue.
The first one didn't work...it was white, like canvas of life unknown, unpainted...fresh, virgin, new....
or basically, six bucks down the drain.
I gulp tons more water and a glass of iced tea mixed with one shot as I'm keen on numbing myself based upon disbelief.
I could be pregnant....no...no....yes, absolutely...
The "no, no" is denial based upon how fucked up I have conducted myself in life thus far...
and the physical complications already present.
I am a woman living with endometriosis and polycystic ovarian syndrome.
My doctor three years ago stated he was treating "one of the most, if not "the" most severe cases" he had ever treated.
I thought having a child was impossible.
At that time, I felt like I was not a woman any longer. To be stripped early of your possibility for fertility is unexplainably gutting in itself. I think you can only fully understand if you are going or have been through it.
The DNC was horrid; the pictures of me constantly pooling blood and being informed I was now short 1/2 an ovary....
these things, at the moment, make me fall silent into reflection.
I will go into that endo-adventure at a later date.
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I also have a protruding hernia.
I suffer from panic attacks and am on medications that specifically state "do not take while pregnant."
I have chronic hip pain and staples, mesh, corkscrews, etc. in my tiny little abdomen.
I am 5'5'' with a retroverted uterus, larger boobies, a tiny frame and hips, and a tube for my urine that is laid upon by another tube whereby I already constantly have the urge to urinate.
Basically, my parts are small. Very very small down there...so small when years ago I was once pregnant, the doctor had to use a neo-natal catheder tube on me at the age of 24.
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Late yesterday....on a Friday night when OBGYN offices are closed....when we have to rely upon home pregnancy tests, pacing, and open discussions....
the man I live with & I are contemplating everything "future..."
I am a mix of joyous, a vessel of trepidation, hope, part-time radiance and annoyance.
I have seen so many children today in various stages of life and growth that a few made me smile but mostly it was the silent ones...
the big eyed babies who weren't screaming for material objects....the child who demanded Grandpa hold him as a whole family waited for ice cream....little horribly raised children, kids slacking off at a baseball field dugout that were in their teens.... and the lovliest blonde haired boy who came up to my boyfriend to give him a baseball, smile, and run off back to his father at the park.
At this point I see children as a mix of incredible and torture. To be honest, how does a child ever repay a parent for all their sacrifice?
I did have the inkling I was pregnant when I was cringing at being touched. When I was a total f*cking bitch about the smallest of things...when I hit the criteria of being dizzy, pissy, emotional, opinionated, energetically drained, hypersensitive...even had a dream of cleaning a child's behind that was flowing with dookie.... my subconcious and conscious self was so worked up about possibly being "impossibly" pregnant...
and here I am.
Two pink tests have two "you are pregnant" lines.
One blue test has a plus sign or cross...meaning "be positive! look on the bright side!" or "you are about to be crucified."
I am pregnant according to three out of three working tests.
I can smell insanely easily and I wish I could ice my breasts in menthol and smoke a joint in a cafe in Amsterdam...like back in my lost days of soul-seeking and screwing up my early 20's.
There is no reason I should be having a child...
I haven't told my family.
I did tell my friends whom were already taking part in "fucking mcfuckery" ...the official title for a long-awaited girl fest for St. Pat's where I would see women I adore who shit talk one moment, crack hilarious jokes the next, and can cry out of compassion for each other... it's the lovliest of mixed bags of sexy tomboys who can outdrink and outwit a lot of bastards.
I'm not seeing them today.
I texted them "late for my period and the party....." with a pic of all three tests currently determining my entire future.
Maybe this makes me normal...becoming a parent.
Maybe this fills the void where you get bored in your early 30's and need something to give your life meaning right through turning 50 and creeping into retirement and reflection.
I will say this....
I am fucking elated and terrified.
I'm hopeful...at times..
but yesterday, I wept and wept. I checked the calendar, made jokes, felt completely lost...ugh.
It hasn't been 24 hours...this is mostly a secret...but my body knows and I know....
time to engage in complete selflessness.
Time to quit downing coffee and chain smoking....time to buy more fresh grown produce....read books, take prenatal vitamins...go to the doctor and admit all my faults and cessate them immediately.
Time to be an adult and prepare for a black cloud...a silver lining...
or pink, blue, green, and every other solid colour and hue in the amazing rainbow that is a precious little child of my own.
