That's right, hallelujah, I finally got myself knocked up. After months and months (and months and months) of worrying and whining and some occasional flat-out freaking, SUCCESS! Honest to Pete, I don't know how anyone does it. Getting pregnant ain't easy, no matter what those junior high sex ed teachers told you. (Maybe it's easy in junior high, but after 35? Bitches, please.) When we were first toying with the idea of me going off the pill, a friend of mine gave me some advice: "Start trying now because believe me, it can take awhile."
While I'm not saying that I completely dismissed her warning... oh who am I kidding, I completely dismissed her warning. I mean, doesn't everybody think it's going to happen instantly? You go off the pill, slap on the Manilow (I mean Coltrane. Shit, who do people hump to these days?) and bing, bang, boom - baby.
Or not so much.
I'm sure for some people it happens that way and more power to 'em. I've just never met one of those people. And thank God, because if I had, I'd probably have gotten really grouchy and defeated and given my husband one more thing to have to talk me down from and honestly when it comes to dealing with me, he doesn't need anything more on his plate. Anyway, it took awhile is all I'm saying, so we're pretty freaking psyched.
A friend of mine (a different one this time) once asked me if baby-making sex felt different than regular sex. Like was it more romantic and joyous because of the whole "creation" aspect of the act.
See, the thing about trying to get pregnant is the trying part. "Trying" generally implies focus and determination - or in my case, a thermometer, a boatload of ovulation strips and some less-than-spontaneous love making. (I really, really hate that term, but my mom's going to read this and the use of the f-word felt decidedly awkward in a non-profanity context.) You know that scene in every romantic comedy where the man comes home exhausted from work and the woman comes running at him, screaming that they have to do it NOW-NOW-NOW? Shockingly accurate, that. I'll save you the anatomy lesson but trust me when I say that the "window of opportunity" closes mighty quick. It's all about timing and temperature and eggs and "even at your most fertile there's only a 20% chance of conceiving" andandand... Which is why we'd decided to adopt. At first we were looking at China but they've gotten really nutso with the rules (you have to be married for five years, no more single mothers or gay folks. You can't be fat or older than 45 or on medication for any psychological disorder. And you must make at least $80,000 a year after taxes). We also thought about Haiti but they require a Statement of Faith so that was out. But then we learned about Ethiopia (good orphanages, lots of care) and it seemed like a perfect fit. So we made an appointment with an adoption agency and called our families to share the news.
And then for some reason, I took a pregnancy test.
I still don't know why I did it. I didn't feel pregnant. My period wasn't even late. But I did have a whole lot of pregnancy tests lying around.
See here's the thing - I'm notoriously cheap, but unfortunately pregnancy tests are not. So (being a Superthrift) I found a place online that sold them in bulk. Unfortunately the tests didn't come with all the little perks that regular tests come with.
Perks like packaging and instructions.
So our joyous moment was put on hold while I sat at the computer trying to decipher whether two pink lines meant the same thing in Spanish that it meant in English.
So here I am, about to jump into the second trimester (more on the first trimester to come, trust me) and happy as a clam when I'm not bawling or freaking the fuck out. You know the scene in every romantic comedy where the pregnant woman turns into a moody little bitch?
Shockingly accurate, that.
*Blogger's doing that thing where it won't put breaks in between paragraphs. I swear I'd stop paying for this if it wasn't already free.