(Another filterless entry)
I have never examined my boobs in the mirror as often as I have the last two months, hoping I see early signs of pregnancy, hoping I see veins, discolorations, or whatever it is I’m supposed to see – just something.
Over the weekend I had bouts of nausea and light cramping – I even missed out on most of the Bruce Springsteen concert Sunday night with my Mom because I felt like I was going to heave. I sat through 4 songs, I think, and ended up spending the rest of the concert (sadly) out in the open breezeway with the vendors and drunks. But as I found out Tuesday morning after taking a test, it was not pregnancy nausea, so I have no idea what that was attributed to.
Any woman who’s ever tried to plan a pregnancy can relate to the feeling you have just before you pee on a stick. I open the wrapper (which is pretty thick like the wrapper my Fruit by the Foot came in when I was younger and actually ate things like fruit snacks). My heart rattles my ribcage with every thump. I try to convince myself it will be negative, to psych myself up to soften the blow, be prepared for only one little blue line.
Sigh. Better luck next month.