See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde, The Layoff, One-Man Show and A Boy in Man's Clothing for the background on this one.
I kept busy over the weekend, going on the Haunted Halloween hayride upstate that #111 was supposed to join in on. Instead, just Shelagh and Allison and I drove upstate. I'd already told Shelagh about the positive result and then told Allison in the car. She was alarmed. "Those things are usually right," she said. I momentarily panicked but truly felt I wasn't actually pregnant. I wasn't having any weird cravings or any bizarre reaction to things. Plus, I happened to have an OB-GYN appointment scheduled for Monday so I knew I would find out for sure soon enough. Besides, everything I was feeling felt like PMS and sometimes I had really bad PMS.
"Sickly, I kind of hope I am pregnant," I said.
"Well, that makes sense, so you still have a connection to him," Shelagh said.
"No, I said, so I can say to him, 'I'm pregnant with your child and I'm going to get rid of it.'"
We made a zillion off-color jokes about my unlikely pregnancy, from "and people said I looked radiant on my birthday...and they thought it was because I was in love" to "maybe we can find you a flight of stairs upstate...or tip a cow on you." I was reveling in my dark humor, and, knowing it would end once I found out I wasn't pregnant, said, "I'm going to miss my imaginary baby."
Even I have to admit that this PMS was different. Usually I want to wear baggy clothes to hide myself when I'm PMSing, but with this, for some reason, I was still wearing dresses and tighter clothes and not afraid to hang out of them a little--or, actually, proud of hanging out of them a little.
On Monday, I went to the doctor. When the nurse took my urine sample, I said, "So, I took a pregnancy test on Friday and it looked like it came back positive, but I'm sure I'm not." Suddenly, her tone changed, "Well, we'll find out..." and then about five seconds later, "Yup."
"Yup? Yup what? Yup, I'm pregnant?"
"You're pregnant."
"Holy fucking shit..."
I never thought I was the kind of girl who could get pregnant. I was always so damned responsible. Obviously, I am an idiot because I was that girl. I couldn't figure out how it could have happened because we were careful, except for that one episode of crime-scene sex. At the risk of TMI, the doctor said it was possible it could have been a very bloody ovulation.
In the span of one week, I got laid off, dumped and found out I was pregnant. By the time I got the third layer of bad news, I was calm. Even Heidi (who met with me at every stage of the disaster, bringing me cupcakes, buying me dinner, taking me home with her) said so when she met me out that night.
"Obviously, I don't have control over anything," I said. "I give up. There's nothing I can do. I know what I need to do next and that's it."
One of the things I had to do next? Tell #111. And I wasn't even sure if I would ever hear back from him.
Diagnosis: Too much badness in too small a time span.
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