transcended.net

I’ve kind of been dying to share this for some totally bizarre reason.  I must be reading too many IF blogs lately where posts about bodily functions and fluids abound.

Anyway, consider that your warning…

So, I’m not one of those girls who gets all offended when people make comments about bitchiness and PMS.  I recognize that, in fact, I can morph into a complete bitch during that magical time of the month, so if I do seem bitchier than usual, yes, I probably am having my period, thank you very much for noticing.

If I had regular 28 day cycles (which I do not) my period should have arrived the weekend before Christmas.  On Friday of that week one of my friends commented that I seemed really pissed off and he was confusing me with our other friend in our IBchat (that’s Instant Bloomberg chat, the finance version of AIM) who tends to get pretty riled up.  

Duly noted. 

I figured that meant my least favorite aunt was on her way to town sort of on schedule and when I started spotting a few days before Christmas I was actually hoping the whole mess would be over in time for our drive down to LA on Christmas Day. 

No dice.

By Christmas Day I was still having this weird, sort of spotting, but not really most of the time, definitely not-a-period bleeding.  By the time we got back from LA two days later and this was still going on, a full week after I first started spotting, I began to freak out a little bit.

You see, Paul and I have not exactly been um…careful lately.  And, er, we have been not careful quite a lot because there was a lot to make up for from the summer when the steroids made me feel so horrible that the LAST thing on my mind was getting it on.  I have no excuse for why we’ve decided after almost seven years to chance it with the rhythm method (which I do realize is the birth control method of choice for pregnant 16 year olds), especially when we know how awful the consequences could be.  I will say that I have been thinking about it some and the only explanation I can give is that, at least on my end, I think I’m just sick of trying so hard to not be pregnant when all I really want is to be pregnant and so I’m acting like a spiteful, bitter, irresponsible, petulant child. 

I’m so ready to be a mother, clearly.

Paul is probably not thinking about all that, he is probably just being a guy. 

Anyway, here’s where things get really stupid/ironic/gah…

So halfway between Christmas and NYE, paranoia begins to set in even though I am actually already sort of bleeding…what if I’m pregnant?  I didn’t think there was a strong possibility, but I have seen enough episodes of I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant to know that women do sometimes bleed during early pregnancy.  I started picturing myself being THAT woman.  The one who goes to take a dump and a baby plops into the toilet instead.

Since my period is rarely on time, I actually had a spare pregnancy test from the last time my paranoia got the better of me, so I decided fine, I will just rule that out so that the next time I have a stomach ache I don’t automatically assume I am about to poop out an infant or anything.

I peed on the stick.

And then I waited.  And it was during these next three minutes where I was struck by the absurdity of it all.  And I wanted to laugh. 

Not laugh like, haha, oh isn’t life amusing?

Laugh like, I fucking can’t believe this is my life and there is something seriously wrong here and omgimsobitterrightnow.

Instead, I just managed not to cry.

Because there I am staring at this pee stick and it’s bringing up all these conflicting emotions, like what the hell am I supposed to be hoping for here?  Negative, is the “right” answer, but of course, there is the whole thing about me ACTUALLY WANTING TO BE PREGNANT.  Sitting here with a used pee stick that I’m being FORCED to hope is negative. 

It was just all so wrong. 

And then I started thinking about what would happen if it were positive…My doctors have never even mentioned the possibility of me becoming pregnant in my current condition (with all the meds and kidney function still seems to be not quite as good as before this flare), the only message which they have consistently sent is: DON’T. 

So, the truth is, I don’t really know what happens next if I ever do happen to find myself pregnant while being told not to.  The emphatic way in which I’ve always been told NOT to get pregnant makes me think that if I did, the “a” word could very likely be brought up in conversations with The Medical Team.  I could be wrong, but based on the risk of birth defects and the risks to my own life if my kidneys really aren’t up to being pregnant (funny, I always thought it would be my uterus that would get pregnant), I’m afraid that that would end up being the medical suggestion and as bad as all of this currently is?  I think I would seriously end up being suicidal if I had to go through something as horrible as purposefully terminating a pregnancy that I actually WANT.  On the other hand, what if it really isn’t AS bad as my docs make it sound?  What if it’s just not ideal, but that there’s a good chance everything would be just fine?  Is this just being completely naive?

After the three minutes were up and there was only one lonely line…I heaved a sigh of….something….and immediately chucked it into the garbage can because I was still pissed over all the emotions that peeing on a god damn stick could stir up in me. 

At this point I am going on my third straight week of bleeding, which for a girl who’s periods last 2-4 days, is totally ridiculous.  It seems to be increasingly heavy so at least it’s going in the right direction (over soon, yes?  I don’t like you enough to have you around 4 weeks in a row ok?).  Obviously Paul and I will not be able to use the rhythm method this month since I don’t have a clue when CD (cycle day) 1 was (is?).  I’ve been kicking around the idea of asking if I can go back on the pill since the research around that keeps changing and maybe the current crop says it’s ok!  Also, it would be really awesome to have that daily reminder that I’m not allowed to have babies yet (yes, sarcasm). 

I told Paul about how I’d probably have to kill myself if we had to terminate a pregnancy I actually really, really wanted and I think he pretty much decided that we are not going to behave like adoloscent jackwagons anymore.  He wants me to not kill myself, go figure.