A guy named Shrodinger once had a cat. He thought it would be a good idea to put his cat in a box with poison. Then he said something like, “The cat could be dead. But it could be alive. I won’t know until I open the box. So until I open the box, the cat is both dead and alive.”
Ja. Makes total sense, right?
I, too, have a theory. Take one pregnancy test. Pee on the stick. Wait for the result. Until the test shows either positive or negative, you are simultaneously pregnant and not pregnant. I call this Shrodinger’s Pregnancy.
Those who know me well will know that I don’t particularly want to experience pregnancy again. When asked about having a third child, my responses run the gamut from hysterical laughter, to wild-eyed panicky hyperventilation, to vehement refusals, to sarcasm (“Sure, we’ll have another baby just as soon as Hubby grows himself a uterus!”), to more coherent rationalisations (“We’d have to buy another car, a bigger house, and sell a kidney to afford all of it!”).
I did not enjoy either of my pregnancies. The initial glee was quickly forgotten as “morning” sickness took hold and I wallowed in self-pity, blaming it all on Hubby and contemplating a future of abstinence. When the second trimester hit, I felt energetic and glowing for about five whole minutes, before the exhaustion returned. Growing a baby saps the life out of you, for real. There was backache, and sciatica, and heartburn, and thrush, and general discomfort in my whale-form, as well as the urge to pee anytime I was in the vicinity of a toilet.
With Poppet, I had an induced labour which ended up in a C-section. When it was Pixie’s turn, as I lay on the operating table, I promised myself that I would never do this again.
Then, last week, my period didn’t start when it was supposed to.
I couldn’t sleep. I took two pregnancy tests but even the negative results didn’t set my mind at ease. I felt nauseous – was it a symptom or pregnancy? Was it a new symptom of PMS? Was it just my nerves taking over?
My imagination ran wild. I wondered how I would tell Hubby. I daydreamed holding this hypothetical baby in my arms. I started thinking about who could teach for me in the fourth term. I even told my dentist not to X-ray me just in case.
I’m not pregnant.
My period started, and with the relief that I was expecting to feel, also came the undeniable taste of disappointment.
I thought I didn’t want another baby, but it turns out – that’s not entirely true.
What do you think? Am I completely out of my mind? Is there a cure for broodiness?