Positive

Thursday, September 17, 2020. Well this was a shitty day. I haven't been sleeping well lately. My resting heartrate has been going up continuously for the past month. I've felt my heartbeat throughout by body. I've been feeling my body vibrating and shaking. And on top of all of that, I'm 10 days late. 

Yup. I'm on "Day 39" of my "lady cycle." My period was due 10 days ago. This is not normal. I started to worry when I was 7 days late, then 8, then 9, and today was 10! I was awake from 2:00 to 4:00 AM last right, reading about all of the possible causes for skipping a period. My mind refused to acknowledge the most obvious reason. Clearly I was just "stressed." Clearly it was the emotional burden of 2020 Pandemic Life. 

By this morning, I had to know. I had a 10:30 AM Zoom meeting with a colleague (who I also consider a dear friend). When she asked how I was doing, I had to tell her, "I'm 10 days late, and, uh, I'm pretty scared that I'm pregnant." My friend and colleague was so helpful and so encouraging. She's a mother of a 5-year-old, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to be a mom. But she and her husband talked about it and decided to make the plunge. 

My friend made me realize that I just had to know, one way or another. Even though Eric and I are very strict in our quarantine life, I had to leave the apartment and walk down the street to buy a pregnancy test at Harris Teeter. My anxiety gave me permission to indulge in all of my guilty pleasures at the grocery store. I bought ice cream, frozen blueberry waffles, canned chili, a baguette, and taco shells. If I was going down, I was taking this baby with me. So I bought a lot of junk food and a box of Clear Blue Easy (because it was on sale, of course).

I got home from the grocery store, and Eric helped me wipe down all of the groceries (yup, we're still disinfecting all of our groceries). Once the groceries were put away, I opened up my box of Clear Blue Easy and headed to the bathroom to pee on a stick.

I've taken pregnancy tests before in my life. The relief of seeing "NOT PREGNANT" is the world's single greatest joy. But that's not what I saw this time. I had the horizontal and vertical blue lines (+). It was positive. I was pregnant. In shock and scared beyond belief. And pregnant. 

I left the bathroom and said, "Eric, you can come and see the result." I don't remember what he said. I don't remember what I said. But I made him leave the bathroom so that I could take a shower and wash off any possible Covid that I had been exposed to at the store. 

I took a cold shower, and I cried. I listened to my "Songs that remind me of 2020" YouTube playlist as I showered. And I cried. I haven't cried like that in a long time. I got out of the shower, got dressed, and got back to work (this was, after all, in the middle of the work day). 

I came out to the kitchen and told Eric that I had forgotten to eat lunch. He could see that I was upset. He told me not to be sad. He said that this was the plan. This was what we wanted. And he's right. I agreed to all of this. 

He asked me what I was so sad about. I said that my life was over. I wanted to write, perform, do comedy, travel the world, and all of that was now over. Eric assured me that I could do all of those things with a baby. I said, "I'm never taking a baby on an airplane! I hate it when babies are on airplanes!" 

I told him that the reason why women make less money than men is because of pregnancy and children. Eric tried to explain that the wage disparity was a result of women entering the workforce and adding to the supply, making the demand go down. I let him have that one (I didn't have the mental ability to spar about discrimination). 

As I tapped on my laptop all afternoon, responding to work emails, and just living in a haze, I had the urge to listen to the Melissa Ethridge song "I Will Never Be The Same." You'll recognize it from the 1990 Winona Ryder movie "Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael." These are the lyrics to the chorus:

But, I , I will never be the same
Oh, I , I will never be the same
Caught in your eyes
Lost in your name
I will never be the same

I tried to convince myself that other women had babies and still had their creative careers. Mindy Kaling is still wildly successful, and she's a single mother! Glennon Doyle has two kids, and she's one of Oprah's thought leaders! I want to be one of Oprah's thought leaders!  

And then I got sad because I thought of all of my heroes who didn't chose to raise children. Oprah. I can now never be Oprah because I'm pregnant. Elizabeth Gilbert! I have always looked up to and adored my girl, Liz Gilbert (the author of Eat Pray Love). I will never be able to travel the world and write a memoir like her because I'm pregnant! 

Gloria Steinem, for fuck's sake! Now I'll never be Gloria Steinem! 

I cried on and off all afternoon long, mourning the loss of the life that I had always imagined. A life filled with love, travel, and adventure. 

Eric came into the my room, where I was working, throughout the afternoon for a hug. I told him that I really needed him to give me something good to think about. I told him that I felt like I had nothing to look forward to, ever again. He said I can still do all of the writing, all of the performing, and all of the traveling. 

And then he said, "Besides, there's no guarantee that you'll have a baby in nine months. We're very old. There's a very good chance that your body could reject all of this at some point." 

And for the first time all day, I felt better! I said, "You're right! I'm almost 40! I have an anxiety disorder! This could all end 5 days from now, 5 weeks from now, or 5 months from now!" And I laughed and laughed and laughed. Because it's TRUE! Not everyone who gets knocked up has a baby to show for at the end. I can't tell you how relieved I felt. 

And besides, even if a baby does pop out of me in 9 months, I'm not in this alone. I've got Eric, and we agreed long ago that if I ever got knocked up, he would be the primary care-giver. He would get up throughout the night for feedings and diaper changes, and I could sleep through the night. We even shock hands on it. 

So I will sleep tonight, knowing that I am pregnant right now, but I won't be pregnant forever. This latest life experience will end in either miscarriage or baby. And if this ends in baby, then Eric can be President of the Baby, and I will happily be the Vice President of Baby, with no real responsibility. 

According to an online "due date calculator," my due date is May 17, 2021. Fuck me.