Okay test, you’ve let me down before. What’s it going to be today?
I am a little afraid of what you have to tell me. Even after this long 2 weeks of waiting, I am afraid of your reality crashing down on my fantasy. Until you say the word, I can still hope with abandon.
I desperately want to know and don’t want to know, all at the same time.
Over the last 2 weeks, my logical, practical side that knows it’s too early to tell, has been overtaken and I am constantly scanning my body for subtle signs of early pregnancy (“was that a gas cramp or implantation…” “ do my nipples look darker today?”). I pour over my temperature charts like a pirate over a treasure map, sure that the secret will be revealed to me if I keep searching.
Whatever you tell me is going to rock my emotional boat.
And it’s so final, so black and white. Feels kind of harsh. You leave no room for negotiating, dash all hopes of a different outcome.
Seems poetic justice that I get to pee on you…