… is still harassing me. I know it is hanging out at the bottom of the bathroom trash can, wrapped in TP and shoved in an empty TP roll (my signature move for hiding pee stick evidence).
I am feeling really uncertain about our life as three this week. Maybe it is because of the job hunt (it seems it is way harder to get back into marketing after taking time off to raise a family so why not go all out and have more babies?). Or maybe it is my friend’s growing belly and her adorable pokey outey preggo belly button. Or maybe it is that storage bill from our RE in Ohio for our one remaining frozen embryo. Or maybe it is because one of the Professor’s coworkers is coming to collect all of Sabine’s tiny baby gear in a few weeks. Or maybe it is because EVERY TIME we are at the Spuyten Duyvil Library Sabine picks up the book about becoming a big sister and drags it all over – an act that I know is meaningless but that still feels like a knife in the heart each time. Or maybe it is because I turned 34 a few weeks ago and am now even closer to that dreaded 35 marker.
I don’t want another baby right now. Hardly. My life is plenty complicated at the moment and I have no desire to add to that complication. What I do want is the choice to have another if/when we are ready. I want to be a fertile girl and have the luxury to say “I want a baby” and BAM be pregnant in six months. But I don’t. I hope this sad grey cloud passes soon. It’s really cramping my style.
I am standing in target staring at pee sticks because last night I had such a vivid dream that I was pregnant and yesterday I had afternoon nausea and last week I had some pinching in the uterine vicinity. The intelligent woman in me knows that the dream means nothing, the pinching was my regular constipation woes and the nausea was too much spinach for lunch. The idiot, though, feels the strong compulsion to pee on all the things.