Peeing on a Stick

Somehow, I made it to the age of 30 before ever having taken a pregnancy test. I’d like to claim that I’ve always been extremely responsible about my sexual activities and that my period has always appeared right on schedule and so I never had any reason to suspect pregnancy. This was not the case. For many years, I became instantly convinced I was preggers pretty much every time I got busy with a member of the opposite sex, regardless of how safe we played it. Many neurotic days were spent waiting for my period to arrive. It always eventually did.

Now that I’m 30, I just don’t have time for days/weeks of neurotically obsessing over the possibility that I may have been knocked up. Ain’t nobody got time for that! Modern science has provided us with these lovely establishments known as pharmacies. And in these establishments, one can find another marvel of the modern age: the home pregnancy test. For the low low price of $18.95, all you have to do is pee on a stick, wait 3 to 5 minutes, and then you know. The test will either be positive or negative.

Last week, I took one such test for the very first time. I walked into the pharmacy, picked one from amongst the various brands of tests available, made an inappropriate joke to the cashier when I paid, and raced back home for pee time. The instructions said that I could either pee on the tip of the stick or I could instead pee in a cup and then dip the stick into said cup. Having very little faith in my ability to aim my stream, I went for option 2.
In the 3 minutes it took for the test to work its magic, a million billion thoughts ran through my head. The most prominent was how inconvenient a surprise pregnancy would be at this time, for countless reasons. Many of them extremely valid concerns about the future, others as superficial as not wanting to have to alter my wedding dress to fit a woman who is 6 months pregnant on her wedding day.
During those 3 minutes, I cleaned my entire kitchen with a level of speed and efficiency never before seen in that room, in order to avoid staring at a pee covered stick for 3 endless minutes.

And when those 3 minutes came to an end, one single word appeared on the pee stick. The word NO.


NO, I am not pregnant.

NO, I do not need to give my fiancé a panic attack with news of our fetus.

NO, I do not need to factor being a grumpy preggo into my wedding day plans.

NO, I do not need to clear out my junk/workout/closet room in order to make space for another human being.

Thank the fuckin’ lord. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and then felt a wave of sadness come over me because…

No, I am not pregnant…

No, I don’t get to begin my journey to motherhood just yet…

No, I don’t get to create a human being in my belly…

Talk about mixed emotions.

I do one day want kids. I have always one day wanted kids. Some days, I have been way more willing for that one day to be the present day than others.

But after flip-flopping back and forth in terms of emotional response to the negative test, I settled on rejoicing. And proceeded to do a happy dance.

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