Here we go again.

Monday, May 2, 2011

I roll over and throw my arm out onto the nightstand, searching for the time.
I pick up my phone, squint and see that it's 10:00 A.M.
I should really get up.
Last night was spent tossing and turning, with too much on my mind.
I'm three days late and I've been feeling nauseous and tired, so I was sure this would be the day.
I fling the blanket back, pull myself out of bed and stumble into the bathroom, my senses shocked by the cold tile on my bare feet.
I grab the hot pink package that I had set on the back of the toilet the night before, and begin to tear at the plastic foil seams, hands shaking.
After I finish reading over the directions, just to make sure I do it all right (even though I've read this little sheet of paper religiously and longingly each month we've been trying), I pull the cap off that end and try not to drop the test into the toilet by accident as I awkwardly try to maneuver it between my legs.
Here goes nothing.
I try to replace the cap, but my hands are shaking, my heart is racing, and my face is hot. I finally get the cap on, and place it on the back of the toilet to wait for the results.
I decide that I can't watch it appear, so I stumble into the bedroom and collapse onto the bed, putting my arms over my face and praying for strength to deal with the results.
I wish I could stay in this moment just a bit longer. I'm hopeful, I'm optimistic. Once I get the negative result, I know I'll be waiting another month or more.
At the same time, I'm tired of the anticipation. I need to know.
So I pull myself out of bed again, and slowly walk into the bathroom after three minutes had passed. I glance at the test without picking it up, and see it . . .

. . . one line, negative, not pregnant.

My heart sinks, and my face feels numb.
I pick up the test, place it in the trash can, and try to gather the strength for another month of waiting and wishing.
Here we go again.


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