Monday, 02/20/06 - 10:36 pm.
I guess it's times like these when an entry gets interesting, but writing about it would've meant I was accepting publicly my mistake (not that many read this diary, but it's still public), which would be slightly more embarrasing than the supposed fact itself that I was trying to hide.
When I wrote my last entry, next to "10 days late" I wanted to write "and two weeks pregnant". But I wasn't sure.
I haven't slept properly, and felt every possible feeling once has when one gets pregnant unexpectedly. For some reason, I wasn't convinced by the use of protection and the fact that my fertility window had closed two days ago. I thought "maybe the condom was too old" and "maybe I miscalculated" (after all, I suck at math). How could I have such luck, that both things happened at the time time? Please, God, don't let this be. But I've always thought that prayer and faith are a long distance from biology and probabilities.
I kept having cramps, only never strong enough. The first days I was hopeful, "it's coming", but then it was six, seven, eightnineten days and nothing. I kept Joseph informed, and he said he'd support me no matter what. I stopped minding the cramps. I knew my period wasn't coming.
It hasn't, so far.
One night I had the feeling it was happening, and I started to cry, pacing across my bedroom in tears at 2 am. Am I bloating? What am I going to do? Get rid of it, of course. And it wasn't because Joseph would deny parenthood, or I'd get kicked out the house. Quite the contrary, I know I'd be supported by everybody, after a long, hardcore scolding.
But it meant giving up my career, mostly because the kid would be coming in october, and by that time I'm doing field trips to rural communities and taking midterms, etc. It meant being a huge burden for my parents and the rest of my family, mostly economically. It meant a lifetime commitment to Joseph that I figured would eventually tear us apart as a couple. In this situation, we were like teenagers, without even a place of our own, let alone a plan; I'm not working, and Joseph's earnings are not a fortune and he stills blows it on childish things. I was also scared of seeing the child as an obstacle; no doubt I'd love him/her, but if I gave up my career, I'd be frustrated. I could get back to it, and when? With what money? So what, I'm gonna name my child "Psychology", to make up for my frustration?
Joseph and I had a couple of conversations about all this, and every time he took the topic less and less like a joke. At first he was, "yay, I'm gonna be a dad", but then his tone was changing, saying he loved me and he'd support my decision. I told him I wanted it, but it just was not practical. Even though I'd had my emotional trials in the bedroom, by myself, I knew I had to be more rational. It was just not practical. For me, for Joseph, for anybody.
He said having a kid with me would be a treasure. But it was my decision in the end; he was either going to work his ass off for the baby, or was going to "take care of everything" for me. So inevitable I said he had to help me to "take care of everything". I felt like a monster, and I thought of her and every girl (I know a few from school) who was brave enough to carry on with the nine months, whether they were keeping it or giving it up for adoption.
I started to do searches. I had this booklet on abortion, how Junior is conceived and his heart starts beating at two weeks. I'd always cry when they got to the part where Junior hears his mom talking to a doctor, "which method will Junior's mom choose? Either way, Junior will suffer". And they go on details. I closed the booklet. I figured I had to kill Junior before he was even a month old. Before he stopped looking like a sea monkey. I like sea monkeys, though, so I just felt even more miserable.
I read my psychology of development book. I read sites. Apparently, my method would be sucking it out. Some sites said there was virtually no long-term consequences. I knew I'd have to leave with the guilt and all that, though, something I was already experiencing. Other sites spoke of infections, tearing-ups and even death. I found an article about underground abortion clinics in this country, and I learned the price was about $600, depending on the pregnancy time. I also found out that they didn't have the instruments, and they'd perform the "operation" with a vulgar steel bar and stuff. I started to panic, and for a while I considered keeping it. I mean, I'd always wanted to keep it, but it was just not practical.
I told Joseph about all that, and he said it was bullshit, we weren't going to those places. He'd had to keep company a few of his friends who needed that, and he knew good places, and safe techniques. I would only need a pill. He said that last night. I still had my doubts, but at least knowing he was going to do all the "paperwork" for this awful thing made me sleep much better than I had these past weeks.
It's funny how lately I've been hearing all these pregnancy references. First, my doctor (the one I'm seeing for the fracture in my spine) told me that, because of my spine injury, I'll possibly need a caesarean section. When I went to get X-rays, there was a sign that said that I should tell the technician if I thought I was pregnant. I kept hearing references, on TV, on first-hand conversations (like yesterday, when I went for lunch with my friends and one said that, since I'd written a book, now I only needed to plant a tree and have a child). Just today I was watching TV, and there was this movie about a girl telling his boyfriend she was pregnant. I switched to another channel and there was a girl thinking she was pregnant (but her period arrived finally). So I've been thinking, "yo', signs".
Ultimately, my deadline was this week. This fucking week I had to get over all this. So this morning I told my dad I was going out to buy some office stuff (I know, lying again *is horribly ashamed*), but I drove to the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test. I tried to look normal, and the lady was nice. I wasn't THAT embarrased, but still.
It was a fun thing to do. No, really! I had fun with the test. I got a sample, took out the nifty dropper. One, two, three, four drops. And the strip started to turn all pink. I waited ten seconds. And then ten minutes.
The result said I was not pregnant.
All this shit for nothing.
(actually, it helped me realize a lot of things, but that'd be digressing right now).
It's odd. I said "I expected it", and I did. If I had gotten a positive result, I'd have said the same, and meant it. Because I expected everything. In fact, I was disappointed for a while, because...well, babies are cute? But I was going to kill it, anyway, so good thing I could avoid that monstruosity.
During the whole procedure, I was listening to STP, and when I was done, I burned the receipt and the box. I've kept the test, just for kicks.
Joseph was glad with the result. Actually, if I would've been pregnant, I think I would've stayed away from him. His awesome idea of supporting his newborn family was engaging in lucrative-yet-illegal activities, that sooner or later would've left him in jail or six feet under. What the fuck? Speaking of being practical, stay away from me, kid. I'll raise Psychology alone. I would've never accepted his money.
He was relieved, too. He'd been very cold with this whole thing, speaking like it wasn't a big deal, something that happens on a daily basis (ok, it does, but not to us, I mean). I expected a more emotive reaction, but he too shared the not practical view, and above all, he was going to stand by my decision. So I believe it was a good thing. Little human-like, but his assurance made me much more confident and ready to face anything.
So, that's my dumb story. All that worrying for nothing, right? The cramps stopped today, and I should go to the doctor, but even though these tests are supposedly reliable, I'm still afraid. I guess I'm drained, I'm horrified at myself, and I haven't even started to get emotional.
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