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.
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.