Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Staying pregnant

I took the last pregnancy test a few days ago. With the positive line bold, bright, and even more prominent than the default line, I've left it on the bathroom counter like a good talisman. I stare at the brash positive line, and found myself thinking of it as a good omen, or even a protection that would ward of ill fortunes. I feel like I could slay dragons and fend off monsters wielding this short, white, plastic stick with a window showing two obvious lines as sword. All I need now is for lines to remain strong and true.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The appearance of the second line.

Valentine's day morning, after days of internal debate on whether I should wait an extra day or not, I did the test while the little girl played on the bath mat. As the test area dampens and the default line appears, a second line so very slowly materialized. A faint but unmistakable second line. Needing a bit more confirmation, I directed the little girl's attention to the stick, "look honey, can you count how many lines there are?" "One, two, three, four, five, six..." she counted on, not surprisingly, and made me smile.

It's been a few more days and two more positive tests since then, but I've only allowed myself to be very cautiously optimistic about it. I'm still carefully examining everything my body is feeling or going through, and constantly update my mental scoreboard of good and bad symptoms. Pimples? Negative one. Funky feeling in legs? Negative one. Lack of appetite? Could happen in both cases, a wash out. The problem is, how can you score the absence of something if it could occur at any point of time to dash every bit of hope?

Last time, I let myself to be overly confident of things to come. I believed that everything in life would unfold as I wanted it to, and was reminded of how little control I have over life. This time, I'll wait some more before I start to celebrate.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Please

It's like an unspeakable itch that can't be fully scratched, this desire for a second child.
Like a a broken faucet drip-dropping in the back of my head but cannot be stopped.
Everywhere I look, there are either family with multiple children closely set in age, or a pregnant mom with a belly big and round in front and a toddler no older than my own following her.
When I had the false positive a while back, it was not a sense of excitement that went through me, but a serenity. I was fulfilled. A missing piece was found. I was whole. I was content. I could let go of my baby making obsession. Everything was as it should be. Yes, the house still needs cleaning, work still needs to be done, and the laundry that's been sitting in the baskets since Sunday still needs to be folded. But, a second child was coming, and the world was all right.
The sense of completeness went down the toilet, figuratively and in actuality within two weeks.
Here I am, again, tilted. Weighed to the side by the burning want to bear a sister/brother for my oldest.
Calendars were consulted. Actions were taken. Omens were sought. If only it would happen.