SSIt's Week NINE. And as you know, I started the week out wondering where my period went. Diary let me kinda explain my period to you. You see, I have the most regular of all periods. Since I was 14 when I had the 9 month stretch between my 1st and 2nd periods, my period has been EXTREMELY regular. Every 27 days, my visitor comes knocking at my door. 2 days before I get the visit, I feel discomfort and nausea -kind of a warning. However, even though it was 4 days late, I felt wonderful, fine, no discomfort nothing nothing nothing.
So on Sunday as previously mentioned, I went to Rite Aid and picked up the EPT home pregnancy test because it's the brand that gives you the results in the shortest amount of time (amongst other HPT). So I rushed home, peed on the stick and followed instructions - I put the stick on a flat surface, made sure the liquid travelled to the window and made sure the test window was pink. 3 minutes later I looked at the test window and guess what I saw - a thin blue line!!! I re-read the instructions about 50 times and went over the procedure in my head again and again before finally admitting to myself, after about 30 minutes, that I had followed the instructions to a T. I could not believe that the stupid test was claiming I was pregnant. Impossible, I am very careful! I started feeling nauseated. I decided to reread the instructions and I found the culprit - I was supposed to use the FIRST MORNING URINE!! But I hadn't. I had urinated before my trip to Rite Aid. I let out a sigh of relief and the nausea immediately vanished - can we say sympathy pains? Anyway, I ran to Rite Aid to get another kit in preparation for the following day's test.
The mind is a fantastic thing. You can block out horrible memories and only allow pleasant ones through. Can you believe that one reason I was convinced that I wasn't pregnant was that I was sure Tommy and I had been extra careful? In fact I was only taking this pregnancy test for reassurance. I had blocked out the times Tommy and I hadn't been oh-so-careful. A condom broke once, another time we didn't even bother cos I was sure I was no longer ovulating. And 'The Bastard' was the only guy I had been with the past month so he was the only possibility. Upon that realization, I decided that if I was in fact pregnant, abortion was the only solution because I could not have a permanent link with a sonofabitch like Tommy.
Needless to say, the rest of the day was awful. It seemed like everyone had it in for me and I kept being reminded that I was most likely pregnant. There seemed to be more baby food and diaper commercials on T.V. Lifetime, HBO and Women's Entertainment were showing movies containing babies, there was a documentary of Discovery Channel about handicapped babies and my father was complaining about Kehinde not returning his calls and how her and 'Duc Van you can call me Charles' kids wouldn't have a place in the world. To make things worse, I woke up in the middle of the night to throw up.
Monday morning, I woke up bright and early to confirm my worst fears and there it was again - thin blue line. By the way, this test is 99.9% accurate so I did not bother deceiving myself about any inaccuracies. Besides, I definitely felt nauseated. I called my doctor and the soonest appointment I could get was the following day. After work, I went to the library to perform research on abortion and it's consequences. Let's just say that a lot of women regret it. Regret or not, all I know is that I cannot see 'The Bastard' on a daily basis - that is a surefire recipe for an early death.
I started Tuesday off with a marathon 2 hour prayer. I prayed to Him about a lot of things you know, asking him to guide me to the right decision and to prevent my father from kicking me out of the house. I also made a pact with him that if he could somehow get rid of this pregnancy (isn't he omnipotent?), I would be celibate till marriage. The rest of the day went smoothly. I left work around 2pm to make my 2:15pm appointment. No traffic, no crazy motorists and even no crazy pedestrians. Even the usually bitchy nurse was very nice to me as she took my blood. I kept staring at her as she walked off to the lab. My whole wait I could hear this inevitable conversation in my head:
Doctor: Femi, the HCG test confirms that you are in fact pregnant. This is good news I trust?
Me : No actually.
Doctor: I see. And the father?
Me : He's a good-4-nothing sonofabitch.
Doctor: I understand. You are faced with a variety of options...
Me : I choose abortion.
I see the doctor's eyebrow lift as disappointment and disgust are visible in her eyes. I ignore this look as she voices her disapproval and decides to give me the speech on abortion and its demerits.
I'm listening to her sermon in my head when the nurse taps my shoulder and directs me to the doctor's office. And guess what she told me - I AM NOT PREGNANT! I think she said something about stress but in all honesty I don't really know because I stopped listening after hearing the phrase 'not pregnant.' To further prove her point, my period started, which in hindsight I can see my nausea predicated, but not before I realized that I had just begun practicing the 'holy' lifestyle otherwise known as celibacy.
The rest of the week went smoothly - THANK GOD! Or should I say smoothy FOR ME because Nigeria lost to Sweden i.e their World Cup dreams have been shattered. Even though my father hates that Larsson dude for scoring two goals against us, I must say that he's rather hot, even though that tongue thing he does is rather off-putting!!! Where was I? Yeah, the rest of the week went well. I was informed of a second interview, Jan and 'the dog' were happy and in love again and on Friday, Amber, Trace and I decided to head to the clubs. Diary, now here's my question. Why is it that when you have a boyfriend or in my case, celibate, all the fine guys come out of the woodwork? I was rather pissed by this fact, that, for my entire stay at the club, I was extremely grumpy and irritable and I refused to even look at any members of the male species talk less of talk to them.
There I was, sitting down in a corner with Trace enjoying my Amaretto sour while we both watched Amber bootydancing with this foine kid we knew from highschool, when this guy came up to me. At the time, he looked okay to me but Trace thought he was very attractive and now that I think of it, I think he WAS rather handsome. Anyway, so I was sipping my drink when this guy tapped me on the shoulder.
"Excuse me please."
I gave him a piercing dirty look. "Kindly refrain from touching me." I said sarcastically. I must say I was rather proud of myself. Being rude can be fun!
He took his hand off me like he was Clark Kent discovering I was kryptonite. "Sorry." He said. On hearing that, I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him. Trace shook her head while giving me one of her, I-know-you-didn't-just-do-that looks. However, for some reason, this dude couldn't take a hint.
"Excuse me again. Would you..." he said again.
"No, I wouldn't dance with you," I interrupted. "Do I look like I wanna talk to you, much less dance with you? I am here to hang out with my friends not to talk to some sleazy guys," as I said this, I pointed at him and looked him over. "Now kindly go away, I have better things to do with my time."
He looked rather pissed or was it fed up? "So do I. I have better things to do with my time, that's why I am trying to get my jacket, you know, the one you are leaning on, before I head home." He stretched out his hand as he said this. Can we say, mortification of all mortifications? With a sheepish look, I handed him his black leather jacket and the minute he left us, Trace burst into the most boisterous laugh I'd ever heard. LORD!
Femi, 4:23pm, Sunday June 9, 2002
