Guilty

Thats us during the guilty weekend.
Its funny shit actually.
We spend 13 months having at it during the time when its supposed to make something happen and for 12 of those months nothing happens.
I make a commitment to a more holistic approach, order books from Amazon and expect its gonna take a while.
Pete gets his army tested and we find out all is good there.
I make arrangements for a procedure that shoots die into ya thang and makes sure it goes through those hopefully nice and clear tubes.
We have a long, serious and fun conversation about adoption.
I feel more and more okay with the possibility that we will have a baby whether it comes out of my body or not.
The procedure can happen in month 12 but my gyn is unable to do it and I'd have to do it with doc I don't know.
I decide to wait a month so my doc can do it.
I'm supposed to call and set up the appt. the first day of my new moon.

The weekend before I pop the egg Pete and I head up to Mt. Baker to spend the weekend partying with his Mercer Island crew for some birthdays.
We party all day...all weekend long.
We do it a bunch.
I hit my head on the low ceiling of our room.
This is my blowout before I begin this awesome get clear and healthy as shit plan. Monday the egg pops.

I burn through two big books in like 3 days about getting healthy and vital and letting your body do what it needs to make a baby.
LOVE the books and start up right away.
Imagery first thing and last thing each day, no sugar, no crap, lots of veggies and fruits and yoga and dream writing.
I do this for two weeks.
I feel amazing.
Better than I have in a long time.
I am feeling very confident that doing this for a while, my body is bound to make a baby.
Or if it isn't that will be okay too.

The day my moon should arrive I wake up at 6:30am.
No alarm, just hot and anxious.
I take my temperature as I've been doing for years: first for birth control and now to understand my cycle in a way to help bring on birth.
It's higher than its ever been in the four years I've been taking it.
In fact its higher than its ever been for about 4 days now.
I can't wait for the missed moon.
I go to the bathroom and pee on a stick.
I'm supposed to wait 3 minutes for the result.

It comes in 30 seconds.
Pregnant.
I stare in total disbelief.
No fucking way.
I don't smile or giggle.

I'm protecting myself.
What if its wrong, I ask myself?
That doesn't happen.
Not this way anyhow.
False-negatives, sometimes.
False-positives, not possible unless you are on drugs that I am not.
What if I am dreaming, or tomorrow it will be gone or something.


I walk out of the bedroom into the kitchen where I hear Pete getting ready to leave. He sees me in my robe and looks at me staring at him with a weird look on my face.
He apologizes for the Indian music he is blaring and asks if it woke me.
I say I don't give a shit about the Indian music.
He asks whats wrong.
I step forward and hand him the stick.
He looks at it, and then me, and says oh my god a few times before stepping forward to hug me.
I tell him not to get too excited.
I don't know why I say that.
I'm protecting us both.
Pete leaves after kissing my face and kissing my belly and being a perfect husband.

I go for a long walk.
I do yoga in an abandoned cul de sac.
I am late to work and don't give a shit.
I still have the WTF-holy shit look on my face.

I have a seriously stressful day at work that involves high winds and rescuing children from areas where trees are falling down.
I think I am going to die numerous times.
I go home thinking that the stress may cause me to miscarry.

I pee on another stick the next morning.
It says I am still pregnant.
Holy shit.

That was a month ago.
Still pregnant.