File Under TMI

by Brenda Ponnay

The unwrapped pregnancy test sits on the cold counter, flying in the face of two warnings listed in the instructions: Do not unwrap the test until you are ready to take it, and Extreme cold can cause inaccurate results. Well, it's not that cold on the counter. I let it sit and wait. And wait and wait. I have to wait to save up enough urine to be able to pee for five seconds straight. Oh, the intricacies of taking a pregnancy test.

I took one yesterday; it said negative. Not pregnant. But then I noticed the expiration date was last month. Maybe expired pregnancy tests can give the wrong information. After searching the Internet until I found the answer I wanted, I flew to the market and shelled out $5 on the cheaper brand. That way if this is a waste at least I'm only wasting $5 instead of $14. But then again I'll probably doubt the accuracy if it doesn't give me the answer I want. Oh fickle me. I lead a troubled life, wondering every minute whether I am pregnant or not.

So here I am the next day preparing (as in squirming on my chair trying to hold it) to take another test.

What if I were pregnant? My life would completely change. No longer would the quiet mornings be my own. No longer could I stay up until all hours of the night watching Law and Order. Where would I put the baby? We have no suitable rooms in the house. We have no money to move. Can I just squish her crib into the hallway and hope she doesn't cry a lot?

If I don't have a door to close on my baby's room, will that affect her well being later on in life? Will she become one of those nervous people who can never feel settled because someone was constantly walking through her makeshift hallway room when she was a little baby? What will my husband do when he is staying up late into the night trying to get work done and there's a shrieking infant suffering from colic only four feet from his office? Will I take her into my room and let her sleep with me until she calms? Didn't I read somewhere that that was unhealthy? What if I roll over on her and crush her little bones?

I am racked with doubts and what ifs.

But on the brighter side, what if it all works out? It could, after all. Babies were raised in wigwams, one-room cabins, backpacks and teepees and they probably turned out okay. I don't have any proof of that but I'm sure I could dig some up if I researched long enough. There has got to be a way.

What if she is a delight? What if she fills that empty spot I feel inside, that pause that grabs my heart when I hold someone else's baby and think in my head, What if you were mine? I quickly hand the baby back as visions come of myself kidnapping someone's dearest and heading cross country in a big burgundy convertible Buick and a handful of credit cards. Wait, that was Thelma and Louise. Anyway...

What if she brings my family together? My mom will be so proud. Maybe she will finally get to sew those maternity clothes she bought patterns for so long ago when I had a pregnancy scare in college. We'll buy my mom another charm for her bracelet, with my little girl's name on it. Maybe we'll splurge and buy it from Tiffany's. What if my little darling baby is a boy? Will I ever think of a suitable name? I can come up with fifty zillion girl names but only one or two boy names and they aren't even that memorable. Will he have my husband's soft blonde hair with cowlicks that make it tuft up in the back? Will he have his big blue eyes or will my all-brown color palette dominate? So many nights I've stared up into the darkness of my room's ceiling imagining the possibilities. The good, the bad, the ugly.

What if?

I think I need to go pee now.