March 28, 2009

I had been bleeding for sixteen days straight. At first the doc just said to keep her updated when my period began and wouldn't stop. Then after about eleven days it was pretty evident there was something wrong. The doc's secretary advised in her girly, squeaky voice that I had to come in for a pregnancy test before they could rule out what was wrong.
"I seriously doubt it's that. I mean, my boyfriend was told at the age of 19 by his doctor that he had a slim to no chance of ever fathering a child," I told her. But there it was. All the times that I secretly wished I was pregnant when my lunar cycle was late or I forgot a pill, I wasn't. And this time, I highly doubted it for once. But the question after that hung in my mind like a speech bubble.
That Friday night I brought a girlfriend over from work to get loaded. While standing in the kitchen among the cigarette smoke and growing amount of empty bottles I announced to Jamie and Tom that my Physician requested a pregnancy test. Tom all ready latched onto this possibility as I said it with beaming hope and wild passion.
"Oh... my God! We could be parents!" he smiled in between gulps.Talking about it made me giddy. And also guilty already for even thinking about it with a beer in my hand.

That night I tossed and turned and could not sleep. My heart pounded and my thoughts would not waver until I knew. Finally I got up at 7am that next morning and headed straight for the Walgreens two blocks away. I bought the two pack just in case the first would not have clear enough water marks, or pee marks, that is. Straddled on the toilet seat I watched the stick work its hormone detacting magic. Within a couple minutes a second stripe appeared, and it wouldn't go away. Unbelievable. I stared at it in wonder and shock. This is real.

I ran into the bedroom and waved the pee soaked stick in Tom's face. "I have two stripes! I'm pregnant!" I did the snoopy dance all around the bed and overheard my friend waking up in the other room.
"I don't want what you have. ... Oh, congratulations!" That was no surprise. Jamie was not even close to ending her partying lifestyle. Tom and I cuddled, laughing and listening to our hearts pound. Right away we we started our list of phone calls. First Tom called his sister Jewel. She had to ask really? a few times before believing knowing Tom's past fight with testicular cancer. The odds were so slim, but obviously not impossible. Then I called my sister Misha.
"Guess what? Blix is going to have a cousin," I phrased so it would take a second for her to register. Yet again hearing the reallys? and then excitement after.

From then on I never picked up a cigarette or a beer. My life had changed in the most wonderful ways possible. My aimless halt at the crossroads had ended. Now it is time for REAL living.