Nope.

I'm 4 weeks and 6 days pregnant. Approximately. Give or take, ya know. Which means that I'm officially scheduled for not this Tuesday, but the next one.

There were people praying with pictures of babies outside of the Planned Parenthood. I was almost hoping they'd say something so I could use a snazzy reply like, I bet you wish YOU were getting laid, or I'm saving MY life, or be all classy about it and just flash the peace sign. But they just kept on praying for my unborn's soul and the nice girls outside held the door for me.

Inside was waiting and more waiting and finally the ultrasound. Fact: Fetuses have growth spurts. It's really hard to tell how old it is, because some weeks it grows a lot and others not at all. Mine's itsy-bitsy. Just a tiny dark spot on the ultrasounds and in my uterus. A mere speck.

Next Tuesday better come quickly, because I kicked the elevator door at Whole Foods with venom because it closed on me.

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps

Tomorrow is the day I'm technically scheduled for the abortion. If I got pregnant on the first day of my last period, I'm 6 weeks and 4 days at this point, but seeing as that's highly unlikely, I'm giving a 70% chance to going home sans empty uterus.

I've felt heaviness throughout my being today and yesterday. My hormones have been out of control. My skin is going nuts and I cry at the drop of a hat. Or the drop of a feather, really.

There is a tiny part of me that likes this new thing that's happening, that knows my body is so very happy to be doing this growing and nurturing thing, and that little part is sad.
But I want to be back to normal tomorrow.

Ugly, Grumpy, Fat

I should stress, first of all, that I am anything but fat, so I apologize to anyone who is actually overweight, because it may seem insulting when I say that I feel fat. But I do. I feel like a slimy ball of lard with a giant underground zit and burgeoning breasts.
I made the mistake of going clothes shopping today. Someone should outlaw shopping while pregnant (for anything but maternity clothes, which I--obviously-- do not require), or at least post warning labels. I gave up after two outfits. No more pre-abortion shopping for this girl.

Growing up, the museum near my house had what I believe were actual little fetuses in the stages of development. I don't remember how big the six week one was. I'm sure I could find out, but I'm not sure I really want to know.
I haven't decided whether I'm going to look at the ultrasound. Being a vegetarian for the i-hate-killing-animals reason, I believe that people who eat meat should know where it comes from and how it's killed. Should not I, then, be able to look at this potential thing inside me before I reject it?

"I'm pregnant."

I wish I could see the expression on my face when I mention that I'm pregnant. I don't tell many people, but I love the shock value, and I think that's evident. My thoughts are always transparent through my skin, and I may even be the slightest bit gleeful. But I should get a little pleasure out of this, right?
Maybe I could use this to my advantage. "Could I get that OJ now, please? I'm pregnant. Could I take this seat? I'm pregnant. I'm intolerant to you because I'm pregnant."
Sometimes it's nice having the secret, too. 'You don't know I'm pregnant,' I think during conversations. 'You have no idea.'

The nice thing about having this happen is that now I don't have to worry about it happening. This is what it's like. It's kind of a relief, actually. One less "what if." And I know that I'll be okay. That's a pretty comforting thought.

Sex

Is the new thing that makes me cry.

When I got back into town, sex was the first thing on the menu, obviously. Little did I know that midway through I would turn over and start to sob. Small sentences like, "I just want it gone" would emerge at intervals.
I know I'm incredibly lucky to have such a supportive boyfriend, but I didn't want to be anywhere near him that night.

It's been better yesterday and today. I no longer cry at the mention of babies. I enjoy sleeping with my boyfriend.
My boobs are getting out of hand. Good thing my abortion is scheduled for Saturday, or I'd have to buy new bras. I'm getting the surgical, have I mentioned that? So if I'm not 6 weeks along already they'll have to push it back.

Calling this hotline was a mistake:

1-800-395-HELP.

They tried (albeit gently) to counsel me into not getting an abortion. I hung up on them.

Do call this hotline:

1-800-772-9100.

It may take a while to get through, but they're the good guys.


This is NOT the way to ask someone if they're getting an abortion:
"You're dismissing the child?"

Update: Lots of water and veggies helps the constipation.

Two Days After the Beginning

The beginning was the day I actually found out I was pregnant.

The day before doesn't count, although I took two pregnancy tests in the bathroom of the hotel I've been staying in for the past week (I'm out of town for work). I got the cheapest two-pack I could find at the grocery store, figuring that I was intelligent enough to figure out the white boxes with pink lines. Not so. The second line is supposed to appear within three minutes if you're knocked up, and by 2 1/2 minutes there was absolutely no pink line. After 4 minutes there was the faintest of faint lines and after ten there was a darker one. But the stupid instructions said not to trust results after ten minutes. So I figured, take two would be more conclusive. Not so. Same line(s), same time frame. So I had a beer (out of revolt to my potential fate) and decided to get a digital test the next day. A+ FOR DIGITAL TESTS. "Pregnant" appeared within 1 minute. Of course, I spent the next couple of minutes checking to see if I had a blind spot where the word "not" was supposed to be....
But I didn't believe it. Sure, my period was 6 days late. Sure, my boyfriend and I have been using the rhythm. But we've been religious about it and it's worked for months.
Even calling him didn't make me believe it, although I was shaking and I cried a bit.
I've been crying on and off since (only once in public, yay!), still in disbelief, and, dare I say, shock.
Here is a list of things that make me cry:

1) Cute videos of babies on YouTube.

2) Thinking about whether it would be a boy or a girl.

3) Wondering if it would like fairy tales.

4) A co-worker telling me I left water boiling in the teapot.


Here is a list of things that make me sure I want an abortion:

1) I'm very selfish and career- driven.

2) I'm probably moving across the country in a year, and probably without my boyfriend.

3) I'm very selfish and career- driven.

4) I love my body.

5) I'm very selfish and career- driven.


Dream Q & A with Barbara Walters:

Babs: So, Eve, how is your body changing at this early stage?

Me: Well, Barbara, my breasts are swollen and heavy, I'm constipated, I have little cramps throughout the day that last under 10 seconds, and my normal eat-until-you-drop relationship with food has become tenuous.

Babs: That must be very difficult for you. Except for the swollen breasts part.

Me: Well, actually, I was very fond of my breast size. And my boyfriend doesn't want them any bigger.

Babs: He must be a very unusual boyfriend.

Me: Oh, yes. He's being pretty great about this whole thing. He wants to know everything that's going on with my body and anything else I want to talk about. He does say, " holy shit" with regularity, but that's to be expected. I haven't been able to see him since we found out, and part of me is very excited to see him tomorrow, and the other part of me wants to move to Timbuktu.

Babs: Well, we'll keep in touch throughout this experience. I'm sure you're very tired and want to get some rest.

Me: Yes. Thank you.


Footnote: I haven't had any dreams about babies. They've mostly been about air travel.