Last night, I couldn’t sleep. Not at all.
I laid in bed for almost two hours before giving up; I drank water and IMed with Emma for a while and saw Conan at this regular time for the first time in ages. I tried to come up with a domain name, to no avail, and I found that if I am on my way to being pregnant, a ball of 16 cells would have been dropping into my uterus yesterday. Thanks, pregnancycalendar.com!
Then, I dreamt of babies and pregnancy tests. I dreamt that yam was pregnant, and I worried for her, hoping it wasn’t ectopic, on account of her IUD. I dreamt that I was pregnant, and that I called BG to talk about it, and she was telling me that BabyBG had learned how to push buttons on something. And she said, “It’s weird, being educated and intelligent, and getting SO excited that my kid can push a button!” And I laughed, and looked at my pregnancy test again. It was still two pink lines, and I set it down and went to go somewhere, and when I came back, all of my bathroom stuff was in the toilet — my hairbrush, face cream, everything, including the pregnancy test. And I didn’t want to spend money on another one, but I was trying to think of how I could prove it to Dave without having the two lines to show up.
Then I woke up, with heartburn.
I talked to Amy today, and the first thing out of her mouth was “GRETCHEN! You’re PREGNANT, aren’t you!” Of course, she said the same thing yesterday, she swears I “sound pregnant” now, but I have no way of knowing if there are 16 cells descending, multiplying from 16 to 32 to 64 to 128 to 256 to 512 to MORE THAN A GIG. And BEYOND.
But, maybe I am? I know that when Dave sensed my absence last night, he woke up from a deep sleep to come find me, and groggy at the top of the stairs he asked “Do you feel okay?”
I sort of giggled to myself, said “I’m fine, just can’t sleep….” and as he staggered back to bed I translated his words to his thoughts, which had to have been “Are you suffering from fertilized ova sickness?”
As I said to Emma last night, with most everything else in my life, I have been able to achieve big things by working hard and sacrificing when necessary. But with this, quite possible the biggest thing, ever, I have no real control over the situation beyond well timed sex and blind faith.
And that’s fucking nervewracking.
heh. fertilized ova sickness. If I am pregnant, it is so ectopic that it’s in someone else’s body. Although man, the percentage of time that I wistfully think about pregnancy lately has been growing at an alarming rate. Meanwhile mr. yam talks about having children in 6 years or more. Alas. Since Amy is an anagram of yam, I feel duty bound to say GRETCHEN you are SO PREGNANT, even though at this distance really my psychic powers might just be detecting your neighbours.
This is Amy. . . not sure if this will go through or not since Im not a member of whatever this is- BASICALLY, I’m just saying, for the record. . .SHE IS SOOOOOOOOO KNOCKED UP. I just know- enough said.