July 25, 2010

I thought I was becoming a mother again.

I didn't say anything to anyone. Not even to my husband. I just noted that my cycle was late. I wasn't sure how late at first: a week? Two weeks? I just knew it was off. Way off.

I retreated back into that quiet space inside of me where I used to go when William was still in the womb, where I contemplated the unfolding complexities of my life and emotions, and just waited. And listened.

I secretly purchased a pregnancy test and waited to use it until first thing the next morning. I sneaked out of the bedroom and into the spare bathroom while my husband showered for work, too anxious to wait for him to leave. My stomach knotted as I read the directions. I don't know if I'm ready.

I take the test and wait for the results. One blue line. Not pregnant. My cycle began the same day.

I expected to feel relieved, and in a way, I do. William requires so much from me right now that another pregnancy would put me in a stressful position. But I'm also sad. For a moment I expected to feel life springing up in me again, the little kicks and nudges, and the excitement and anticipation of preparing to greet a new little person--full of smiles and wonder. All those emotions rushed through me as I tore the wrapping off the pregnancy test, and then drained out of me as I read the results. Not pregnant.

When did life get so complicated? And why do I feel betrayed?

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