I swear I’m pregnant. I’m not, but you never know. And, if I’m not, someone’s trying real hard to mess with me.
My face is breaking out, which it never does. I was up most of the night with heart burn, which I haven’t had since I was pregnant last time. I weighed more this morning than I think I have since I was pregnant last time, which is weird because I’ve been on a stupid-strict Aruba-level diet in anticipation of wearing a bikini for the next 4 days. And, it just dawned on me that I got my IUD right after we had Harley Love, and she turns 5 in June…which concerns me because Mirena’s only last 5 years.
So, just to get Ben on board with why I was so panicked, I told him…while I was mid-tooth brushing…that I think I’m pregnant. He didn’t take me seriously…until I dropped the Mirena piece on him. Then, it all got a little more real.
THEN, I get a text message from my ex-husband’s wife, Liza:
“I had a dream last night that you were smoking and pregnant and I was giving you this long lecture and you had been hiding it from everyone and didn’t care …. well you have officially made it into my dreams. Oh and when the baby was born the plan was that I was going to take care of it….so I was pissed you were smoking.”
So, we FaceTimed her and had a nice little laugh over the actual possibility that I could be pregnant. Which kind of horrified me because the irrational part of my brain has always made me believe that you can get pregnant with twins if you have sex while you’re pregnant. And, since I didn’t think I was pregnant, and…you know what…I’ve now turned this into a twin pregnancy in my head that is all real and not just a possibility.
Liza, of course, wrapped up the most ridiculous conversation with your ex-husband’s wife of all time with a friendly, “Well, have a fun time in Aruba! Remember to wear sunscreen!”
Finally, …well, I hope ‘finally’ in that I hope there’s no more “signs” to be had for the rest of the…ever…, I am scrolling through my Instagram feed and find THIS post informing me that I will, in fact, be getting pregnant this year. Like, for real? None of my friends’ names are on there: no Ally (it’s close to Allison, but it’s off by enough that I can’t count on it), Claire, Darcy, Meredith, Jocelyn, Katrin, Tori, Missy (there’s a Melissa, so maybe I can drag her down with me this year), Jana, Tracy, Liza, Charlotte…WAIT, THERE’S A JESSICA and Jess Roy could DEFINITELY be game for another kid…she TOLD me that. So, SHE’s pregnant, too, I guess.
We’re on a flight to Aruba right now, so while I tried to find a pregnancy test in Logan Airport, I had no luck and am now totally over-analyzing everything on this 5 hour flight like a total over-aged psychopath that does NOT want any more kids, but feels the need to say that I’d be “thrilled” if we found out we were pregnant. Which I wouldn’t be, but you can rest assured that is what I will tell everyone if I see a pink little plus sign on the first test I can get my hands on.