My beloved readers I’m back! I had a minor surgery. I’m recovering nicely. Hence why I’ve been quiet for a little while. And also with the pandemic there’s not a lot to do. I’ve been crafting, working on my bartending skills, baking gluten free at home, and having dad adventures (to be continued for a later post).
Before I had my surgery my least favorite week of the month, aka shark week was late. I decided to do my due diligence and take a pregnancy test. I was not going to be one of those people who walked in preggers and didn’t know about it.
I take the test.
Like I said just doing my due diligence. I wait my five minutes. I go into the bathroom to check the stick. SHIT! It says POSITIVE!
Inner Monologue Moment: What the fuck? I have not had sex in a while…. So this has to be a false positive situation. Those happen, right? Of course they do. DON’T PANIC, DON’T PANIC, be smart. Take another test.
Here I go, pee on another stick, wait, walk in for results. Fuck my life. Positive again….
Inner Monologue Moment: This is not possible! Unless immaculate conception has come back into style. How is this happening? Shit, fuck, shit! I’m not ready for a human baby. This can not be happening.
So, I do what all intelligent, independent women do when faced with crisis… I grab a pint of ice cream. Yes, I know it’s cliche. But I need to calm down and think. And due to baby it’s not like I can have wine!
Inner Monologue Moment: OMG, WINE! I won’t be able to have wine… for MONTHS! This can not be real.
I’m eating my ice cream. Thinking of all the ways my life has just changed. No more elixir of life, sushi, late nights, random vacations, being only responsible for myself and Teddy. Well this fucking sucks.
Then I think to myself what the hell, maybe third time is a charm? And let me check the packaging too. Maybe I read it wrong?
Inner Monologue Moment: I’m grasping at straws now. But anything is possible. I need a glimmer of hope! Hope please come find me. Since I can’t drink my wine to find my hope.
I walk back into the bathroom, where the two stupid sticks that have changed my life forever lay. I glance at them. I sneer at them. I turn them over. I don’t want to see the stupid pink lines anymore.
I re read the packaging. Ya dee ya dee ya, instructions. One line means positive. Two lines means negative.
Inner Monologue Moment: Wait? One line means negative. Two means positive. Well shit. I’m free!
I read them wrong! Yes!!! Hallelujah! One line means negative!
Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
To be continued for surgery…