My Only Way Out

(is to go so far in)

Ahh the joys of being one week late

Posted by Cauri on July 5, 2006

It’s sort of insane…the thoughts that go through your mind, second after second, hour after hour, the checking and re-checking, for eight days straight.  Of course my boyfriend, the ultimate worrier, has been a complete paranoid mess the past week.  He found a way to slip into every sentence in every conversation, “Did it come yet, do you still feel it coming?”  He googled a list of pregnancy symptoms and completed a mental check of what i’d displayed so far.  I caught him at least 5,000 times staring at my stomach, trying to assess how much it’d grown since the last time he checked.  It was quite comforting.

I admit, each day i was still late, it perplexed me.  I’d been pmsing for two solid weeks.  Craving everything from brownies & popcorn to pickles & peanut butter.  I cried at credit card commercials.  I was clingy and needy, crying whenever i was apart from my boyfriend.  Each morning i woke up, i was sort of amazed that it still wasn’t here.  No matter how much i assured my boyfriend that, yes, i know my body, and no, i am definitely not pregnant, i still couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t here yet.

Then i started with the what-if’s.  What if I really am going to have a baby?  What if it’s twins?  What if Ryan loses his job next month?  What if I’m stuck at starbucks, making $20,000 a year for the rest of my life?  What if i puke at work because i can’t stand the smell of coffee?  What if i try to finish school, and i have to take my finals when i’m 9 months pregnant?  Oh God, What if my dad finds out? 

What if i get an abortion?  What about all the pain?  Will Ryan stay in a hotel with me and hold my hand, so i can puke and cry and scream, and he’ll be the only one who knows?

What if i choose adoption?  How do I explain to everyone I’ve nannied for, Every newborn baby i’ve woken up for in the middle of the night, every toddler i’ve ever taught to walk, every sweet little baby that i’ve snuggled into and covered with kisses…that “Yes I raised your kids, but I can’t handle my own”?  How could i look at my own little creation, hand it over to someone who, hopefully, knows just as much as i do and explain that, I’m just not ready…

On Tuesday, my seventh day of still waiting, i had a syrup incident.  I started making somebody’s drink, (a vanilla & cinnamon latte), and I had the sryups in the cup, and i was about to pour espresso into it, when my ultimate enemy at work jumped in and proclaimed, “Caramel goes better with cinnamon.”  I usually tell her to stop trying to steal my thunder, but yesterday, I simply stated, “She asked for vanilla.”  “Well, caramel goes better with cinnamon.  It tastes buttery.”  My eyes welled with tears.  I shouted at her, “But I like vanilla more!”  I threw the cup, full of my vanilla/cinnamon mixture into the garbage and screamed “Fine!  Make it your way, Do whatever you want!”  I stormed into the back room, crying, and then I pulled myself together and thought, “Hey, wait a minute, is this my period coming??!!”

I drove out to ryan’s, crying histerically the whole drive, over everything from the syrup incident, to my bank account being drained because of my loving mother.  I cried a lot more at Ryan’s house.  We talked a lot…about everything.  We recognized that we had many options, but, at this point, there was still no need to worry.  He kissed me a lot.  He scratched my back.  He grilled me a cheese sandwich and bought some beer.  We played games and laughed and kissed a lot.  He really soothed me.  I was taken aback by the confident, caring, funny, and strong man he is.  I realized that no matter what, I will always have this.  I fell asleep in his arms, finally able to fully relax, and i could feel the difference in my stomach.

This morning i woke up to my wonderful, most cherished friend.  My period.

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