Pregnancy Scare

Terror. There is only one word to describe the feeling when you've gotten to the last green pill in the box and nothing has happened: Terror.

I'm standing in front of the bathroom sink staring at the two little green boxes. I'm comparing colors. I've never been color blind before, but I must be now because the first green box is empty except for one green pill and the second box is full of lots of pink pills. Two things are bothering me. Why are the "red week" pills green and the "non-red week" pills pink? Also, why am I out of green pills when I have yet to have my period? I must have these backwards. Pink must be the sugarpill thing and green must be the hormone ones. I turn the boxes upside down, but all that does is start the week with a Saturday instead of a Sunday. Something is wrong.

I'm standing, looking at the mirror, looking at the pills, looking at my stomach. This isn't right. This is my body. Mine. I'm in control. My mind, my body, my soul. When the world falls away all that's left is me...I own this and only this. I say when things will happen. I'm looking at my stomach and the pills. Okay, so where the hell did it go?

My mind is beginning to berate my body out of principle. Listen buddy! This is a partnership here. You gotta tell me what's going on. I get to know these things, I'm the one who decided whether we walk off a cliff or not. What the hell is going on? My body is unresponsive and unworried. My mind tries to work it out. I feel...unwomanly. I haven't gained weight, I haven't lost weight. I'm not cramping, I'm not craving. I feel an utter devoid of anything. I'm not even roused by the thought of chocolate. I can't put my finger on it.

I'm talking innocently with a friend online, he randomly asks "Are you pregnant?"

WHY, WHY, WHY did he ask that? What possessed him to ask me that? Where'd he get that idea? Am I speaking like I'm pregnant? Do I look pregnant? Why did he ask that? What made him think that?

I'm doing the girl dance now, turning to the side, pulling my stomach in, flattening my belly. Does it look bigger? Is it softer than it should be? I'm turning in a circle, staring at my hips, my breasts. Is my bra just a little tighter than it should be? I can't tell. Is my skin breaking out, why do I look so tired? I stop turning around in circles, now I can't tell if I'm dizzy cause I'm sick or because I've been pretending to be a ballerina for the past three minutes. I don't think my body has changed. I'm the same Katy. And I took all the pills when I was supposed too. Okay, so where the hell did it go?

I've been pregnant before, it didn't end well. There was a whole lot of dying going on and I was on the wrong side of the bar. So okay, I'm alright now. No baby, but I'm okay now. There is no reason to think that it would happen again, other than the fact that it happened in the first place. But I'm too young. I'm 23, I'm still in the "me stage" and right now my "me" is saying it doesn't want to die for an "it". No matter where the "it" comes from.

I'm not pregnant, can't be, if I was I would have thought of it right away right? If I was pregnant I wouldn't have had to have some guy ask me about it before I figured it out. If I was pregnant wouldn't I know? Wouldn't it be in the back of my mind? But I didn't think of it for eight whole days.

I can't be pregnant. I don't want to be. Pregnancy equals death. I'm thinking about that now, thirty different pills, two pill boxes, one really scared girl. Really scared. Crap, I wish my husband were here. I really want to hit him. Hard. Really hard.

Why did he ask if I was pregnant? Why can't I stop thinking about that now? How did he know I'm late? More importantly, how does he know what to ask and my husband is completely oblivious? Even more importantly, why is the fact that he asked making me even more nervous?

Damnit, I'm doing the dance again. I don't feel sick, I should feel sick. Last time the morning sickness was really bad. So was the afternoon sickness, and the evening sickness, and elevensies, tea-time, half-time...all bad bad bad. I don't feel sick now. I want an avocado. Is this pregnant food? I can't remember what I ate the last time. I eat weird things anyway, how do you know if it's weird pregnant food or weird "I'm katy" food.

Terror, terror, terror. I'm sick of it. It's not fair that I have to take pills that reverse the natural working of my entire body just so that my husband doesn't have to wear a condom because - "it annoys him." Grrr, get a damn banana and practice. Why is it always the womans responsibility to take care of these things? Why is it never okay to discuss it with my partner? How is it that a man who shoots guns, blows stuff up and generally wars his way through life is too squeamish to sit for two minutes and listen to his wife agonize over pink pills? It isn't manly to be so...so...freaking manly!

I'm offended. I'm offended at the pills that are green when they should be red. I'm offended that my body isn't doing what it's supposed to be doing. I'm offended that it took eight days and guy who doesn't know me that intimately for me to realize I could be pregnant. And mostly I'm offended that I'm a woman and if I get through this month I'll have to do this all over again. I'm angry that I'm terrified and I'm terrified that I have no one to be angry at. I'm more crazed at the idea that this pregnancy scare is more lonely to me than if I didn't (maybe) have a child inside of me. Shouldn't I feel connected to the world, or to my loved ones, or to something?

I guess I almost hope I am pregnant because it's a scary thought that I can be this crazy without any mitigating circumstances.