It began with stew.
I hate stew. Gravy turns my stomach. Carrots? Fuck that. But, last week, I wanted nothing more than to devour roughly 78 gallons of the stuff.
This, in itself, would have been unremarkable had it not been for a few other simultaneous ailments: I was perpetually tired. Funny pains in my stomach and head plagued me for days. I peed, conservatively, every 13 seconds or so. And I spent most of last Wednesday sobbing for reasons I still don't understand.
Then, one evening, I was shot in the face at close range with a moment of bone-chilling realization:
I must be pregnant.
It was the only explaination. I mean, sure, I've never once engaged in unprotected sex in my life, but that's totally immaterial. What matters is that I have a mass of fuzzy, generic symptoms that are much more easily attributable to more likely causes, such as stress or a mild infection!
Of course, I turned to the only place one can turn when they need their half-baked ideas reinforced through questionable sources: Google.
"Pregnancy symptoms" returned approximately 6.02 x 10^23 hits. The first five told me all I needed to know:
- Fatigue. Yes! I'm tired all the time. And there's no good reason. I only take a full courseload at university, volunteer with two different organizations, maintain Dean's List grades and work a weekly night shift.
- Nausea. Well... not exactly. But, now that you mention it, I do feel funny...
- Dizziness and Fainting. Uh, no. But really, this is the Internet. How much faith can I really put into something I see online?
- Thinking You Are Pregnant. Oh my GOD! I totally think this. I LOVE THE INTERNET.
- Headaches or Stomach Cramps, and Frequent Urination. Okay. To be completely fair with myself, I had, and still do have these, and I have no idea why.
- Late or Missed Menstrual Period. Oh yeah, that. Forgot about that.
I thought about the last one, and I honestly wasn't sure. I don't keep track of my cycle, because that's what my best friend, Billie, is for. I wish I were kidding. She's like a Palm Pilot with breasts and 94 pairs of shoes.
After a weekend of letting my thoughts grow steadily more absurd whilst tumbling in my head, I returned to school on Monday. Billie and I had a biology lab and were, as per usual, talking in lieu of actually doing any science. Today, however, this wasn't our fault. We were studying the composition of the amniote egg, and, for reasons I still don't fully comprehend, this required us to boil one in a 750 ml beaker on a hot plate. We sat waiting for the water to come to a boil.
"Billie," I began, "I think I could be pregnant."
"How?"
"Right now, I'm working under the 'microscopic hole in condom' theory."
"You're not pregnant, Robyn," Billie insisted as she pulled a piece of gum from her purse and popped it into her mouth."
"How do you know??"
She looked a little annoyed now. "Because," she retorted, "You just had your period."
"What?"
She looked quizzical. "Yeah, you were due to have it last week."
White lights suddenly filled my periphery. I guess that's what happens when your heart LURCHES INTO YOUR FUCKING THROAT.
"Robyn," Billie said, with a tremulous inflection, "you did have your period last week, right?"
I was unable to reply, leaving ample time for Billie to make the comforting observation:
"I know a guy who was concieved after the sperm got past a condom, spermicide, and birth control pills."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - --
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the Student Center of the University, alternating between fits of blinding terror and selecting baby names. I was surrounded by Billie, other best friend Will, and The Ex, who was observing me with the kind of rueful smugness that can only be felt by someone who feels they've dodged the mother of all bullets. Did I mention I fucking hate The Ex?
"Well," observed Will, "sucks to be you."
Supressing the urge to backhand him, I went back to my quiet trembling.
"Robyn," Billie said, "If you're really bothered by this, you should take a pregnancy test."
I perked up at the idea. Of course! Why hadn't I thought of this before? Off we sped to the nearest drug store.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Few things epitomize class like taking a pregnancy test in a mall bathroom while your best friend wrings her hands nervously outside the stall.
"How are you doing in there?" she asked.
"Fine," I lied. I positioned myself the way the enclosed manual instructed and--
"Fuck!" I cried from inside the stall.
"What??" said Billie, "Are you pre-"
"No, I missed."
"You what?"
"My pee did not make contact with the stupid stick. I missed." It's times like this when you consider how much more adaptive a penis would be in such a situation, and it makes you want to completely dismiss the Theory of Evolution.
"Well," said Billie, "can you... pee again?"
"Nope, I tried."
Defeated, we trudged back to the University.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - -- -- - -- - -
Thirty minutes later, I was struck with urge to pee again. Billie and I bolted to the nearest bathroom and I went in for Attempt #2.
This time, I was successful.
Moments later, I emerged from the bathroom, triumphantly, holding high the negative pregnancy test. Billie beamed, and I breathed for what I'm fairly certain was the first time in four days. However, the contentedness was not to last.
"But, your period is still late!" cried Billie after we'd celebrated ever so briefly, "And you're still peeing all the time."
"Who cares??" I replied, "Whatever's wrong with me, it's a thousand times better than being killed with a shovel by your mother and then buried in your backyard under cover of darkness."
"..."
All right. Maybe I do think too much.
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