All of the tens of thousands of pregnancy tests I’ve taken in the last two weeks have been negative. And I’m actually okay with that. I’ve been experiencing a pretty rare zen the last few days and I feel, at least right this moment, that everything will be just fine. This might have something to do with the fact that the school year has finally evened out and I just yesterday got the first paycheck of the year that reflects my real salary (and that does not need to be immediately used for rent/bills). It’s not a lot, but it might as well be millions.
Right now, in the midst of my freakish calm about my life, I am totally, 100% ready for anything that might happen and am equally prepared for anything that might not happen (like, say, getting pregnant). I’m not sure how long this will last, but considering that I usually just get momentary flashes of peace, followed by almost immediate waves of “Oh my God, my life is a nightmare!” I’m going to hope that the fact that I’ve been peaceful for around 24 hours bodes well.
I’m still not sure I want to do another round of Provera/Clomid just yet – for several reasons. The first: I am just psychotic enough to still worry I may be pregnant, as I haven’t gotten a period (although I haven’t expected to either way, as I probably will never cycle on my own), and I don’t want to take a bunch of chemical-y medicines on the off-chance that I am pregnant. I need to schedule a blood test, but I’ve been dragging my feet. The second: I’m trying to chill out and am afraid that doing the drug thing will force me out of my “everything happens for a reason” Tony Robbins haze. I cannot go with the flow if I am actively changing the course, right? The third (and the most ridiculous of all): I’m tempted to pause conception attempts for a few months and try for a 2014 baby, because maybe this not working was a sign that I have been right about wanting a baby in an even-numbered year all along. (I said I was zen, not sane.)
In less introspective news, today, I slept in (yay! finally!), caught up on hours and hours of TV (including MTV’s Amber Behind Bars, which was actually, all joking aside, one of the best things I’ve ever seen) and made this, because I am disgusting:
Anyone have a 3-6 month old child they want to dress like a monster?
Fertile Myrtle is moving out of state tonight, so I also snuck up to my hometown this afternoon to see her and my “niece” before they left. The baby and I spent some quality time eating French fries with ketchup and screaming, “YOU!” at passing waiters while we pointed our fingers at them. As we were saying goodbye in a restaurant parking lot, Myrtle’s nineteen-month-old daughter, the love of my life, said, “Bye bye, Sarah. I love you.” It was pretty uncool of her to lay that on me right before moving 800 miles away. I will miss that kid so much. I’m already planning my flight out to visit them – in December.
The baby, the day I taught her to say, “I’m a nut!” and stick her tongue out on command.
I’m a terrible influence.