We're (NOT) Having A Baby

About two months ago I took a pregnancy test for the first time in my life. I'm not sure how good or bad that record is, but honestly it seems weird that I reached 31 years of age without so much as a scare.

This probably sounds masochistic, but I've always been curious about that "is it possible???" feeling. It felt like I was missing out on something big, something that would answer the question once and for all whether or not I actually wanted a baby. My standard answer of "75% want, 15% not sure, and 10% don't want" can only be tested when waiting for those telling lines after pissing on a stick, it seemed.*

*Don't get me wrong, I've pissed on sticks before, just never the baby soothsaying kind.

I've been on The Pill most of my adult life, you see, so it's never really been an issue. Even during times of abstinence, either self-imposed or not, The Pill has been a constant. Despite being engaged now, having a child seems like something that is a long, even uncertain ways away. So The Pill I pop.

But...but I wanted to see how I felt without it, so I stopped taking it for a month. Halfway through that month I woke up feeling queasy and just...off. I felt that way all day, and had stomach cramps to boot. When it hit me, and when thought about that night Colin and I had spent a few days back...ya know, the kinda night where you play a beer-laden competitive but flirty game of darts at your favorite local dive bar, then walk home arm-in-arm, making each other laugh and, my god, he's so handsome and funny and...well you know the rest.

I stopped at the grocery store and bought a pregnancy test. The cashier wouldn't look me in the eye, and in total defiance of my feminist tendencies, I made a show of flashing my engagement ring lest she think I'm a slut. I secreted the box containing one soothsaying pee stick in my purse and came home.

I peed on said stick, and we waited (I'm a terrible secret-keeper, so I told Colin about it as soon as I walked through the door). As I waited those few minutes to be told my future, I panicked. I knew this was the moment I had waited for my entire fornicating life: my feelings about this would tell me, for certain, whether or not I actually wanted to be pregnant.

To be honest, all signs pointed to "no". But...again that but. While I hoped for a single line telling me that the nausea I was feeling was just a slight hangover and not a fetus in my womb, I couldn't help but feel that, someday, I would hope for the opposite.

I know you guys are like super in suspense and shit, so I'll just come out with it. I'm not pregnant. I'm back on the pill, but my "want" percentage has been upgraded to 80%. Four more scares and I should be at a solid 100%, so that's something.

What kind of blogger would I be if I didn't have a photo of the "no baby stick"?

And here's a photo of me trying on a wedding dress for the first time in my life. First things first, amiright?