I'm Probably Dying

In case you’re new here, I was recently diagnosed with pregnancy and everything is literally terrible.  I just visited my doctor for the first time since my diagnosis.  I was alarmed that she didn’t want to see me earlier but I guess we’re all just putting a ton of stock into stolen pregnancy tests.  They seem to be regarded by the medical community as wholly accurate.  Anyway, my doctor finally agreed to see me when I was 8 weeks pregnant and she did something called an ultrasound.  This is where they cover your stomach with Vaseline and then make you look at a fuzzy computer screen and try to convince you that the black and white static you’re viewing is actually your baby.  Obviously I wasn’t buying it.

After that charade, they let me see the actual doctor.  Our first visit did not go well.

Doctor: Alison!  Congratulations!

Me: On what?

Dr: Your pregnancy?

Me: Oh right.  Sorry.  I think I’m still in the denial stage.

Dr: What?

Me: You know: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

Dr: Those are the 5 stages of grief.

Me: What’s your point?

Dr: Oh…was this pregnancy not planned?

Me: I mean…you basically tricked me into it remember?  You said I’d never get pregnant because I’m elderly and obese?

Dr: Well, since we’re on the subject, you’ve already gained 20 lbs. which is what you should be gaining overall throughout your entire pregnancy.  You’ve managed to reach that within your first 8 weeks.

Me: Why is it that you hate me?

Dr: Excuse me?

Me: I’m just wondering if you ever have anything nice to say.

Dr: Your baby seems healthy, so that’s good.

Me: Exactly.  Aren’t you going to give me any credit for keeping this thing alive for 8 weeks?

Dr: Good job.  Have you quit smoking?

Me: Listen lady, you don’t need to know everything.

Ugh…I’ve never been good with doctors.  She wasn’t wrong about the weight gain but it just doesn’t seem like I should be held responsible.  Horrible things happen to your body when you catch pregnancy.  For starters, my tits got enormous.  And not in like a fun, Pam Anderson kind of way.  It’s more of a horrific National Geographic situation.  Husband saw me naked one day and literally called the police. 

In addition, the only thing I had actually been looking forward to in the first trimester was constant vomiting.  I thought this would surely be my breakthrough moment into improbable skinniness.  I figured I’d be one of those anomalies where you actually lose weight when pregnant because you’re yacking the entire time.  I was more than willing to take one for the team if it meant justified bulimia and incredible weight loss.  Of course, I caught no such break.  Instead, I had nonstop nausea.  As we all know, pregnancy is a gift from God lot like food poisoning.  I spend most days curled up in the fetal position begging Husband to feed me like a bird because I don’t have the strength to feed myself yet food is the only thing that helps.  NO WONDER I GAINED 20 LBS. YOU GOD DAMN TWAT DOCTOR!  I was doing my best to keep the nausea at bay by eating nonstop and in the end all I got was a shaming by my medical professional.  I’ve never been a heroin addict (humble brag) but Husband was and he says that pregnancy seems a lot like being dope sick.  It’s so great being married to such a worldly man.

Every day I wake up, I experience a fun new pregnancy symptom.  I basically just Google whatever’s wrong with me followed by the word “pregnancy.”  “Bone crushing fatigue pregnancy,” “Mouth filled with canker sores pregnancy,” “Only have a taste for hot dogs pregnancy.”  And sure as shit, there is a world of women out there who have suffered the exact same ailments.  It’s excruciating.  I tried to bring all of this up at my doctor’s appointment but clearly, that bitch was not interested.

Me: Listen, it feels like there’s an alien growing inside of me.

Dr: There is.

Me: No, but I mean it feels like it doesn’t want to be in there.  Is it too early to induce?

Dr: You’re only 8 weeks pregnant.

Me: I understand it might be risky, but I don’t see any other way.

Dr: I’m not sure you’re ready to be a mom.

Me: OBVIOUSLY, YOU WITCH!

No, but I’m being serious, how much longer does this last?  The other night I slept for 12 hours and then woke up to something called mouth ulcers.  This is a literal thing that happens to pregnant people.  I know what you’re thinking: “Alison, those are herpes.”  NO THEY’RE NOT!  THEY ARE MOUTH ULCERS, LOOK IT UP!  Sorry.  I don’t know why I’m trying to convince you that I have ulcers and not herpes.  Nothing makes sense.  I know none of us are surprised to hear that I’m not doing well.  And I know you would give me a hug right now if you could but it wouldn’t be a good idea because my jugs hurt so fucking bad that when people hug me it feels like slivers of glass are being dragged across my areolas.  As I’m sure you can imagine, my sex life is better than ever.  Pray for me.  I might not make it.  

Traffic...Am I Right?!

So here’s what happened: First of all, let’s just all agree that no matter what’s said here today, we’re not going to talk about it on my Facebook page.  The information I’m about to reveal is specifically designed for the elite group of devotees who get me like no one else ever will.  I’ve been sitting on this information because I don’t want a bunch of strangers hounding me but if you’re reading this, you’re no stranger.  If you really feel like you need to congratulate me, let’s agree that we do that here or that you call me, text me, email me, come over, etc.  Deal?  Deal.  It’s our little secret.

So anyway, December was a harrowing month for me.  For starters, Husband left me… for work… for a month.  He claimed this was necessary in order for him to make money for the team but it was obvious that he had fallen out of love with me.  He kept insisting that it was all for the betterment of our marriage and eventually I had to agree to his stupid plan.  Unsurprisingly, by day two of his departure, I was a total disaster.

I’ve become accustomed to many things since marrying Husband.  I no longer cook food.  I don’t know where any of our tools are.  I’m not entirely sure how my car works or how to put gas in it and I have no idea who my landlord is.  Basically, Husband does everything, I do nothing.  It’s kind of our thing.

Needless to say, by week two without him here, I had completely unraveled.  In addition, I was having hellacious cramps, thought I was dying, and didn’t know how to cope.  It seemed like the best course of action would be to spend literal hours looking up my symptoms on the internet, which I proceeded to do.  I came up with the following theory: I had just gone off birth control because of Operation Baby and this was my first period.  I was likely having horrific cramps because I was no longer being protected by the magic elixir that is birth control.  Clearly I needed to be coddled — but Husband was gone, so instead I bought a carton of cigarettes, a bag of Sriracha chips and proceeded to watch documentaries about ballet all weekend.  It was amazing.

Unfortunately, by the end of the weekend, I was feeling no better.  I decided to stay home from work on Monday because I still had a few episodes of Flesh and Bone to plow through.  So I did that and waited for Husband to call.  I knew once he heard I was dying, he would regret leaving me.  As usual, Husband was unimpressed, and instead of calling with concern he called to poke holes in my medical theories.

Husband: How are you?

Me: Dying.

Husband: But your only symptom is cramps?

Me: It’s probably my ovaries shutting down.  But don’t worry about me.  I know you have lots of “work” to do.

Husband:  It sounds like you just have your period.

Me: STOP TRYING TO MINIMIZE MY PAIN!

Husband: Ok wife.  Get some rest, we’ll talk later.

Me: OH, CAUSE YOU’RE SOOOOOO BUSY!

I was outraged.  Clearly Husband didn’t know the first fucking thing about menstrual cramps.  Who the fuck did he think he was?  As I sat there on a Monday night, surrounded by heating pads, I was hit with a horrible thought.  OH FUCK.  I haven’t actually gotten my period yet.

It was at this point that I remembered that not being on birth control has several side effects beyond cramping.  I was horrified.  I smoked a few cigarettes and mulled over my options.  I decided that waiting was not going to help my situation.  I had to take matters into my own hands.  So I drove to CVS and stole a pregnancy test.  I know what you’re thinking, “Alison, why would you steal one?  You have money, you’re married, it’s totally reasonable for you to need to purchase a pregnancy test.”  OLD HABITS DIE HARD YOU SONS OF BITCHES!  Seriously, I’ve stolen a lot of pregnancy tests in my day and they all came up negative.  I didn’t want to break my streak, so I just went with what I know.  STOP JUDGING ME!

Pregnancy tests are fucking confusing.  I was dealing with a plus-or-minus scenario and wouldn’t you know the minus sign popped up right away.  I was thrilled!  I knew my original diagnosis of full-blown kidney failure was accurate.  So I walked away to smoke a cig.  I had been through a lot and needed a break.  I came back about a half hour later and the negative pregnancy test caught my eye.  On top of the incredibly prominent minus sign was a very faint second line.  I suppose some would say this was resulting in a plus-sign situation, but it was impossible to tell because the second line was very faint.  I would have asked my husband what he thought about the situation BUT I COULDN’T BECAUSE HE HAD LEFT ME FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH!!!

I called him and tried to be reasonable. 

Me: Have you ever seen a positive pregnancy test?

Husband: What?

Me: I’m just saying, do you have any experience with a faint second line?

Husband: Are you pregnant?

Me: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW, THESE THINGS ARE GOD DAMN RIGGED!

Husband: But you’re taking a pregnancy test right now?

Me: Yes!

Husband: I thought you had your period.

Me: WELL MAYBE IF YOU WERE HERE, YOU’D KNOW THAT I DON’T!

Husband: So you lied?

Me: I didn’t know!

Husband: You didn’t know that you didn’t have your period.

Me: STOP TWISTING MY WORDS!

Husband: Are you pregnant?

Me: I don’t know.  These tests are unreadable.  It says it will either be a plus or a minus but mine has a faint line.  Who’s to say what shape it is?

Husband: Text me a picture.

This is what it had come to.  I was resigned to texting pictures of a pregnancy test to my husband while chain-smoking in my bathroom.

Here’s the thing:  It doesn’t matter the faintness of the second line.  If you see a second line, you’ve been knocked up.  So it seems that just a week or so earlier, when I wrote a blog entitled “Hi, I’m not pregnant,” I was, in fact, pregnant.  Yowsers, it’s amazing how often I’m completely wrong about things.

For the record, I am not supposed to be telling people but I’m not too worried about it.  Blogs are a lot like diary entries — they're a private place for me to sort through my thoughts that no one else will ever read, right?

I had to wait two more weeks until I could actually see Husband.  He promised to never leave me again and I promised to stop stealing.  These are the kind of life lessons I hope to teach my unborn child. 

Holy shit, this is happening.