The Test
We’ve all been there. That sickening moment when we take the plunge and pee on the stick, praying loudly and fervently for the little square to stay blank. We have peed with fear, with a feeling of sick anxiety, of ambitions not yet realised. Never before have we peed with hope – dizzy, giddy, Christmas Day hope.
It’s like spending your entire life hating a certain actor and then praying he wins the Oscar, even though his films still fill you with fear. It’s weird.
So you put the toilet lid down and you wait. You try not to look at the stick for 2 minutes, the way you try not to notice the dessert trolley in the restaurant, but still, it keeps winking at you, flashing its power: Maybe. Maybe not.
You remember the previous month when you were convinced you were pregnant, when you had already had nausea and tiredness, when chicken began to make you feel sick, and the shock of blood on toilet paper all but took your breath away. As much as you are scared to get pregnant and change your life forever, you are more scared of not getting pregnant and being the current you forever.
So you take a deep breath and you grab the stick, and turn it over, look at it. You open your eyes to see better. You haven’t noticed that you have stopped breathing. And then you …. Well, I laughed. Spluttered, really. Shook my head in disbelief. A planned pregnancy that ironically, was unplanned (we were convinced we had had sex on the wrong days that month; I only did the test cos I get impatient). And a boyfriend who was 3000 miles away, working for a month in Qatar
Pregnancy, so romantic.
Really, it should have been a sign.