After a period of depression, my
concerned husband suggested that I discontinue my use of oral
contraceptives. My doctor had already threatened to take me off of
them because I've been on them for 20 years. She had said that at
the first sign of any health problems, she would not prescribe them,
and I was fairly certain that depression symptoms would qualify. I
thought that it was a prudent precaution, and agreed to go off of the
pill. The depression faded completely over the months that followed,
but I was concerned about getting pregnant. My husband reassured me
with the words, “Don't worry. We will use condoms most of the
time.” Well, turns out that “most of the time” isn't enough.
I dismissed tender breasts as
premenstral symptoms--for 3 weeks. I dismissed swollen ankles as a
result of salty meals—for which I had been having abnormally strong
cravings. I was concerned about the dizziness though, which seemed
to make my stomach queasy. I was also having little episodes where I
didn't feel bad, but just felt a definite need to sit down for a
minute. In my mind, each symptom was unrelated. Denial. During a
chat with a girlfriend, I started to see them all as having a common
cause. She suggested that I get a pregnancy test, which I
immediately did.
My husband called my cell while I was
at the store, but I told him that I was purchasing vegetables. He
wanted to swap vehicles with me before he headed to work. I told him
that I would finish and head home, but that I couldn't be certain
whether I could be there in time for the swap or not. When I did get
home, he was not there, so I concluded that he had left for work.
So, I head into the bathroom to take the test. And having the house
to myself, I'd left the bathroom door wide open. Just then he came
home and caught me in the act. I was studying the stick and the
diagram. I could clearly see that the results did not match the “not
pregnant” figure, but my mind could not match the results to the
“pregnant” figure. So, I handed it off to him. He studied it
for a time. Pointing to the “not pregnant” figure, he concluded,
“it's definitely not that one.” I stared at him, stunned, with
teary wide eyes. He hugged me and said, “I am very sorry, but I'm
very happy.” I croaked, “OK.” And then I sighed and said more
resigned and resolute, “this is happening.”
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