Nope, not pregnant. The trio of pregnancy tests, each showing a clear negative, confirmed my suspicions. With an IUD securely in place, this was hardly a shocker.
But yesterday morning? I felt awful. My stomach was uneasy, cramping, and I was hit with heartburn that felt like it was spreading from my chest. To top it off, I’ve been dragging myself through the days, utterly exhausted.
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” my partner, Mark, suggested.
“Not a chance,” I replied. “That’s impossible. I just overdid it with those Fiber One bars. And honestly, we can’t have a baby right now.”
As the hours went by, my confidence began to waver.
I found myself tearing up at the end of a kids’ movie. I sipped lemon tea and nibbled on toast. I even started brainstorming how to break the news to the kids about having to give up our puppy, all while imagining them welcoming a new sibling instead. My mind spun with ideas for blog posts announcing the potential addition to our family. I instinctively shielded my belly when my son, Lucas, leaped onto me. Cuddling with him on the couch, I briefly entertained the notion that maybe having another child wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
But then Mark returned with a new batch of tests, and each one confirmed my original thoughts: a single straight line.
This is a relief. Had they been positive, I would have been in full-blown panic mode; we simply can’t afford another child. It would have turned our world upside down.
Yet, I can’t shake this feeling of disappointment.
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In summary, while the tests confirmed I’m not pregnant, I still felt a twinge of sadness. Even with the chaos that comes with parenting, the thought of expanding our family briefly filled me with hope.