Yesterday I took the most stressful test I think I've ever taken. Forget the ACT during high school, don't even think about the 4 hour final for my college capstone class. Those were nothing in comparison.
Yep, I took a pregnancy test.
I was that lady in the checkout lane holding the cranky 9 month old, consoling the screaming 2.5 year old who slammed her fingers in the glass case that holds the pregnancy tests, and trying to smile at the cashier who told me congratulations and casually mentioned that is was probably about time. And she wasn't joking. She was serious.
Right, because I'm completely in control of the two I have now.
But that's neither here nor there, because the test came back negative. Huge sigh of relief, right? Yes, of course. I'm not a baby person, I have a 9 month old, we're waiting longer in between this time, so of course I wanted it to be negative.
But part of me sighed for another reason. Some small, small, minuscule part of me wanted it to be positive. Really? REALLY? What about the PPD, the sleepless nights, the crying, the dirty diapers, my mind screamed. And yet, I was sure that if it had been positive, I would have been just as happy.
And then I sit here listening to my 9 month old cry in the middle of the night, and I'm trying to judge if this is an I'm-awake-and-you-better-get-here-ASAP cry, or more of a give-me-time-and-I'll-go-back-to-sleep cry. And I'm realizing that it was a good thing it was negative. Now is just not the time for us.
Kudos to those of you with kids close together. You're supermoms and I don't know how you do it.
PS. Don't you think by nine months old I should know what his cries mean? So much for mother's intuition.