I’m writing this on Wednesday night, but I don’t dare publish it
until tomorrow.  It’s just… well…. I think I’m pregnant. And not
just random thinking-pregnant, but backed up with a faint line. A faint
line from afternoon urine, because I’m peeing a lot the last few days,
but fuck it, this was a dollar store test.  I’ve read about them,
you’ve read about them, and what the hell, they are a buck, so I bought
two.  After bizarrogirl assured me that they were accurate, really, I
bought them. 

I wanted to wait, to build up some hcg or something, but dammit, I
HAD TO PEE. So I did. And IMed with bizarrogirl while I watched and
waited. It started as a shadow — is that a line? I don’t know! And
then it got darker. And I took a picture, and then altered the picture
by dialing up the contrast and saturation, and sent both to b-girl’s
gmail. And she saw it, too, in both pictures.  It got darker and darker
and darker, and I showed Dave when he got home, in the most
anticlimactic way. "I think… I might be… here: what do you see on
this?" and he saw two lines. One bright pink, one light pink. Control,
test. Ho.Lee.Fuck.

I emailed Amy the pictures with no message (and haven’t heard from
her yet, which means she probably hasn’t checked her email) and I
internet-whispered my news to crowjoy, to ‘practice.’ I’m. pregnant.
…. again.

See, I couldn’t wait til Saturday, well, I could have waited to buy
spendy tests til Saturday, but knowing that the ol’ Dollah Tree was
right next to the Staples I HAD to go to, I was tempted. And I figured,
okay, if it’s negative, I won’t write about it, but it will turn down
the hope-o-meter so that I get the blow of being not-pregnant in 2
small doses, negative HPT, and period showing up. But there was a line.
Today.

I am hesitant to post this until I get another second line, with
first morning urine, that I will take tomorrow.  But, I know. I know I
am.  And I really believe that this is going to be all okay.

I had those dreams, earlier in the month, that led me to start
OPking, just in case, even though I wasn’t planning to ovulate for
another week. I dreamt of the baby girl, and I dreamt of the perfect
ultrasound, with a wiggly fetus and a normal heartbeat and everything
being okay.  The night that i woke up with "OHMYGODTHECAT" I wondered
the next day if I’d been woken by my own fertility, by implantation or
something. Like the fertilized egg burrowed in and a switch was flipped
to test out my mom-ears, those ears that hear everything, even when you
sleep.  I sort of picture this zygote roadie in there, "test 1-2-3 oh,
hot mic! Hot mic!" and then unplugging until I need that sense later.
This week, I’ve been slowed down, down there, which used to be normal
until my thyroid was treated, and I’ve been regular as hell since
then.  Today, I met Andy at the bagel shop — the BAGEL SHOP, my
favorite place to eat, ever, even y’all know THAT — and gagged down a
blueberry bagel and nursed half a ginger ale.  Andy got split pea soup
(with matzoh, my FAVORITE soup there) and I could smell it and i wanted
to just DIE.  When the bagel shop split pea smells awful? Something’s
up. (Also, when you smell bacon while walking to the kosher deli?
Something is up.  I assume I was smelling stuff from a restaurant
farther up the street.)  And it never takes me half an hour to decide
where to eat, like it did yesterday. It never takes half a dozen
suggestions, and then more time to think, to come up with a good place
to eat. I love to eat, and all I could settle on was ‘someplace with
grilled cheese.’

Plus, the catpee thing.  I came home from grocery shopping and got
immediately pissed off at FatKitty, because I smelled pee.  I looked
everywhere before realizing that the smell was ME.  Happened last time,
sort of an almost catpee-almost grapefruit smell, and I don’t think
that I smell like catpee to OTHERS, just to me. When I’m knocked up.
Again.

I’m confident, but I need one more set of lines to post this.