Finding out

I really hope this isn't the beginning of the silliness and the dramatics.  I would very much prefer not to give birth in a taxi.


We had make-up sex in Napa - after I spilled wine on myself, after we'd fought by the side of the road, and after he poured wine on his head to make up for it.  It wasn't soft and romantic, there was more than a small sense of desperation about the whole thing.  When we finished I burst into tears from the intensity.  We'd just been fighting about whether or not we should even be together and then go on to have ridiculously amazing, insanely intense sex. I didn't know what to make of it and when I asked him what the heck that just meant, he said he just wanted nothing more than to be with me in that moment.  Even though we went on to have sex several more times for the rest of our vacation,  I'm near positive it was that time that I conceived.  


Two days later, we arrived back in San Francisco and as we pulled up to the Golden Gate bridge to take pictures, my phone rang and it was Dr. Peng's office.  He'd gotten my test results back and he wanted me to come in to talk about them.  Since it was his nurse that called, she didn't have much more information than that.  "You understand that telling me I have to come in to hear my results is very concerning right?  Why can't you just tell me over the phone?"  Dr. Peng's orders, she said.  I hung up with her and shared a concerned moment with R since we were friends again.  He said that we couldn't do anything about it right then, we'll deal with it when we get home.  We had a good day, but over drinks that night I was like, "no seriously, why do you think he won't tell me over the phone?  What if I can't have kids at all?"  He assured me that we'll deal with it when we got home.


Roughly two weeks later - I gave it no thought as I was certain my fertile window had closed - I felt that tell-tale cramp.  All three times I've been pregnant I've felt the implantation cramp.  There was no mistaking it but I didn't want to entertain the thought.  That was a Monday.  Wednesday, my period was supposed to come and didn't.  I began to think it was all in my head and this is it, I'm going into menopause and I'm never having a period again.  That's what Dr. Peng wanted to tell me.


Friday came and still no period.  At lunch I called my cousin as I was walking out of the building.
"Dude, my period hasn't come yet."
"Okay, have you taken a test?"
"No."
"And why not? (in her total mom voice.)"
"Because I'm not pregnant.  I'm probably going into menopause.  I probably have PCOS and it's finally showing the symptoms."
"Stop being dumb, you don't even know if that's a symptom.  Go get a test."
"I'm walking to the Walgreens and I'll buy a test but I'm not doing it."
"Oh that makes sense."
"R is going to kill me.  When we were on vacation, we agreed that we were not in a place to have kids.  But you know what?  Say whatever you want, if you're having unprotected sex, you're trying to get pregnant."
"Pretty much."
"Who cares - I can't take a test."
"Yes you can."
"No I can't.  What if it's positive?  Then if I start bleeding, then I'm having a miscarriage.  I can't have another miscarriage, I just can't.  But if I don't take a test and I start bleeding, then I'm just having a period."
"I know it's hard but you can do it."
"All right I'm at Walgreens and I'm getting a test but I'm not taking it."
"Whatever.  Call me when it's done."


I bought a test and a bottle of water and walked back, chugging it like in Juno.  I went straight for the bathroom, unceremoniously opened it up and peed on the stick.  No apprehension, no excitement, nothing.  I peed on a stick the day I got married to reassure myself and it was positive, only to later learn that it had been dead for a month.  Ever since then, I have been cured of the desire to pee on sticks - it means nothing to me.  Dead babies put out hormones too.  I put in on the toilet-paper holder behind my water bottle and I refused to look.  I was more afraid of it being positive and I started to shake at the thought of having another miscarriage.  I contemplated just throwing it away without even looking at it, but my cousin texted me wanting to know if I'd done it already.  I texted her back that I had but I was refusing to look.  Two seconds later my phone rings.  "Look at the test already."


Positive.  Clear as day.  Great - wonder when the bleeding is going to start.  By that time someone had come in and my cousin was still on the line but I certainly wasn't going to blab this bit of info at my new. fucking. job.  I'd only been here a week for fux sake.  So I told my cousin in Spanish that it was positive.  I walked into the breakroom mumbling to her in Spanish because I didn't want anyone knowing what I was saying.


"This is so great.  Now I'm going to lose it - I don't want to go through this again.  I lost the last one before six weeks - I think I'm like four weeks now, I don't even know.  What's the point of calling the doctor?  What is he going to do?  There's nothing he's going to be able to do.  I can't believe this.  I'm just going to lose it.  I don't even have the vacation time built up for this."


But she made me call Dr. Peng and I spoke to his other nurse, again in Spanish.


"Hey, so, I know I'm supposed to come in to talk about my test results but I just took a test and it's positive.  Is there something I should be doing between now and the time I get around to coming in to see you?  Yeah I'll hold."


After a short time on hold she comes back on the line and in as many words, says "Get Your Ass Here Now.  Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, Come to This Office NOW."


I hem and haw, asking can I just come in Monday morning as it was Friday afternoon and I just started this job, to which she responded, "Did You Not Hear Me, Come Here Now.  Quit Your Job if You Have To."


What the whaaaa?


So, at 2pm I walk into my boss' office, whom I've known for only a week and give her the Reader's Digest version of why I have to leave that second.


"So, I'm 34 years old and I've been pregnant three times and I've lost all three (no sense in differentiating between the first and the second two.)  Yeah yeah it was the worst possible thing of my life.  So, funny story, I'm actually pregnant again - just found out five minutes ago.  I know this looks bad but I'd really prefer not to have a fourth miscarriage if at all possible, I need to leave right now to go to my doctor.  Please."  Aaaaaawk-ward.


I fought traffic to make it to my doctor's office a little before 4, where he dropped the bomb.


My body is a killing machine and if we didn't stop it, it would kill again.