Expecting

Awoke to a headache and queasiness to the stomach. The symptoms are getting stronger. Will they get worse as months pass by? I meander over to the computer and check the calendar. My handy dandy ovulation diary showed the last occurrence mid April, now being June, I can hope to have the precious bundle sometime in February next year.

February, that could mean a toss up between an aquarius and pisces. I quickly do a google. Aquarians…strong willed and forceful, perverse and unpredictable but honest and loyal. Pisces…weak willed and easily led, secretive and vague but compassionate and kind. I think about this, if I manage to squeeze this preciousness out early February, I can look forward to a strong willed baby who will force his way around the house and be totally honest about how much he disdains us. Otherwise, if I can just hold back my uterus for another 3 weeks, I will have a child who will be easily manipulated by everyone around him due to his gentle and malleable nature. Perhaps my handy dandy diary is wrong and I can expect an Aries who is adventurous, energetic, pioneering and courageous, great characteristics of a leader. (btw, for those of you born under the prior two signs, no offense intended, just letting flow of my creative juices).

I then drag myself to the bathroom. The dark circles around my eyes are becoming more apparent, this constant exhaustion things is doing me in, how have women over the millenniums continued to pump out babies while undergoing this relentless 9 months of physical torture? I don’t remember this in the instruction manual, is it too late to back out? Then I smile and pat the new mound of fat around my lower belly and say, “don’t worry honey, mommy is just kidding, she loves you.”

Today we are headed to Rome for the weekend. My husband asked if I would like to accompany him while he is there for a meeting. I answered by packing my bags and waiting by the door like a dog whose bladder is about to explode. Of course, I will go to the capital of mouth watering pasta and endless gelato. However, my exuberance was quickly killed when our flight took off and the nausea punched me in the gut and the headache smacked me across the head. I told my husband the baby is not happy to be cooped up 30000 ft in the air having to gasp for oxygen. My husband looked at me wide eyed and replied, “the baby?”. Then he just smiled and patted my fatty bulge.

The weekend in Rome was a disappointment. My detailed walking itinerary of the Coliseum, Foro Roma, Campidoglio, Fontana di Trevi…was not a success as I needed to rest my swollen elephant legs every 500 feet. “I never heard of women’s feet swelling in their first month of pregnancy before,” I muttered to my husband, “I don’t think this usually happens till the fifth or sixth month.” My husband laughed and answered, “maybe you are just putting on a bit of weight from the 3 triple scoop gelatos you’ve had since this morning.” I didn’t like his comment.

First of all, any common sensed person knows you can never tell a women she is gaining weight, regardless if she is pregnant or not. Second, I can’t help it if the baby has cravings. And gelatos are just what it craves while we are here in Rome, plus a margherita pizza for dessert. I stop speaking to my husband for the next hour. Then I get sick and run to the bathroom to rid myself of breakfast, lunch and the three gelatos.

The next day, back from our trip to Rome, I throw aside all responsibilities and allow myself to sleep till 2. When I awoke, feeling more refreshed, I decided I needed to organize. I neatly restacked books on the shelf in color coded fashion (prettier to look at) and scrubbed down the bathroom and kitchen. Next, that god awful refrigerator. My husband has a tendency to buy too much food, his eyes are bigger than both our stomachs so we are always left with leftovers enough to feed the children of Angola.

Rotten broccoli and spinach, toss. Expired eggs, what a shame. The milk still a half carton left, I check the expiration date, no good. But wait, that date was a week ago, 3 days before our trip to Rome. The same milk I had my morning cereal with. Nausea, headache, vomiting…symptoms of pregnancy or food poisoning? The next day I buy a pregnancy test…negative.

It’s not the first time I thought I was pregnant. Actually it’s a reoccurring drama every month. With an inaccurate menstrual cycle, who wouldn’t think they were pregnant? But this month I thought it would be it, the fatigue, headaches, nausea…or perhaps this time I hoped it would be it. Just like every fabricated pregnancy I have each month where I pat my tummy and try to send telepathic messages of love to the imagined fetus in my body.

I wrap the pregnancy test stick back in the wrapper and lay it inside the trash bin, bidding farewell to my almost aqaurian/pisces baby. A sense of remorse and depression wash over me. But we will continue to try until God says, “Okay, this month is it.” In the meantime, gotta hit the gym and get rid of this cellulite growth around my middle.