In the last few days of December, I alluded to something that I was going through on my previous blog. I kind of did that annoyingly vague, I-have-something-serious-going-on-but-I’m-really-too-scared-to-talk-about-it-thing. This is what I wrote:
I’m afraid to tell you what might be happening right now. I’m afraid to admit it, even to myself. You all have such high expectations of me, as do I of myself, I don’t want to let anyone down.
This is a completely irrational fear, I know this. Because if this is true, this thing that I’m afraid to tell, you’ll all be happy for me. I hope.
So I wrote a post then, but didn’t really explain anything. And now I’m ready to talk about it. Time to process.
As you probably can guess, SC and I have the sex. We do it a lot, actually. It’s amazing. And I probably wouldn’t stay with him if it weren’t because I’m a shallow bitch who needs her lovin’. So anyway, back to the point. One night, things got a little HEAVY. And before we realized it, we were finished but the condom was nowhere to be found. It was actually pretty far inside of me. So we can pretty much come to the conclusion that none of the baby makin’ juice [did I actually just say that?] made it into said receptacle. So there’s that.
Initially, I wasn’t worried at all. That’s what spermicidal lube is for, right? And a week or two went by and I felt completely fine. [Read “fine” as no baby in my tummy] Also? This wasn’t my first time at the rodeo. I’d had a condom slip off/break/never had one to begin with a few times before. But SC, he was a newbie to this situation. He freaked out. I could tell that he was stressed from day one. I tried to calm him down, but eventually it got to me a little.
And I was supposed to start my period the second day after I went to visit my family for the holidays. Five days after that, it still hadn’t come. I’m regular to a fault. So then I started really freaking out. I was actually 99% positive that I was pregnant. I didn’t drink on Christmas, I slowed my caffeine intake, and I told my sisters to be prepared. The thing is that I didn’t want to take a pregnancy test while I was a million miles from SC. Just in case.
He was telling me all the things he’s supposed to, you know, “I’ll always love you.” “This doesn’t change anything.” All that. And I was honestly feeling guilty. Guilty because while I may be completely ready to be a parent at this point in my life, he is so not there in his. And that’s okay. We’ve had this talk. I don’t want to push him into anything he’s not ready for. I was feeling guilty because I didn’t want to take any opportunities from him. I didn’t want to steal his life away.
So that’s when I wrote that post. When I was completely unsure of myself and what was happening. When I thought I was pregnant. And I know I put these expectations on myself. I feel like people hold me on a pedestal, and this is mostly my family that I’m talking about. I’m the one who graduated high school, got a degree, and still hasn’t had a baby. I’m the success story in my family. I don’t want to let anyone down.
But in the end, my period arrived six days late. It came the day before I was set to go back home. And when it did, I came out of the bathroom doing a little celebratory dance singing, “This is the best day!” Because when we take that step, when we get there, I want it to be because we want to start a family. I don’t want my child to be a mistake.