Blood! (Or something to that effect.)
If you are squimish, you don’t have to read further. But if the header of this post didn’t do the trick, you’re probably asking for it.
Went to the bathroom. Did what I went there to accomplish. There was blood on the toilet sheet! A tiny coin shaped clear red stain.
Am I pregnant or aren’t I?
It would be extremely helpful to not have so much time on my hands right now. But I do! I also have had a couple of conversations concerning different jobs I am applying for, and it kills me that I don’t know. I just don’t know.
I texted Wonderboy, with just the header text, because I was of course mortified by the thought of not being pregnant. (So, what was wrong with me the days I puked and it hurt and more?) He called me in under a minute, possibly from the locker rooms or a broom closet for all I know, because there’s no way he could have had a conversation like this in his work environment.
He was worried and asked me at once. How much blood?
I didn’t even come to think of that. He thought there’d be a lot. That I’d miscarried, all alone at home. It would somehow be better if that would happen. It would be real. I could mourn if I miscarried for real. (I seem to be very fond of making distinctions between real and something that is not quite it. I’m not sure if it’s always helpful.) If I only have a period that is possibly more painful than usual, I just feel empty and delusional. I’m left with nothing.
Wonderboy said caring and loving things to me on the phone, and I started crying.
We can try again, he said. At least we know it’s possible. If something went wrong this early, we still know it’s possible. It did happen.
Just goes to show I have the right lover and a partner in Wonderboy. We are both certain that I at least was pregnant. My boobs swell, my tummy was all bent out of shape, I was euphoric and then tearful the next second. I tasted different. My hair was greasy all the time (still is, by the by). I could feel my womb. My temperature had risen to 37° C (about 98,6 F). Everything felt different.
Wonderboy knew that I needed the reinforcemenet from him. I needed him to recognize that what I’d been through, what my body had felt, hadn’t been all in my imagination. Even if it won’t go to the desired end. I can’t even write grow, because then I start to think about what it means for real.
My period is due on friday. I feel slight pinches in my womb now, even while sitting here writing this. And it’s too early for those.
I am a nervious wreck.
Please share, if you’ve been in the same predicament or have some encouraging things to say.
I am going for a bicycle ride.