So, um, until last night I was absolutely convinced that I was pregnant. Yes, I'm on the pill and yes I'm really good about taking it, but still- did you know that roughly 5 to 8 out of every 100 women will get pregnant while on the pill? It can happen, and does.
And I just KNEW I was. I knew it. And you'd think, considering my pretty fervent "only ONE child" stance, that I would have been pretty fucking freaked out by it.
But I wasn't.
I was excited; no- make that ecstatic.
But I'm not pregnant, for sure. And it's kind of thrown me. I'm mourning just a bit for a child that never existed and I'm trying to come up with arguments for why we should actually try to get one to exist. So far I mostly have "'Cause I WANT ONE!! WAAAAHHHHH!!!!" Which doesn't really go over with my intensely logical and practical husband.
So I'm very sad today, and feeling very silly about it at the same time. In my practical self, I know that we can't really afford it and there are still all of these REALLY GOOD reasons why we shouldn't do it, but in my other self I'm already picking out names and shopping for wee clothes and rubbing my ever-expanding belly.
This is also known as being clinically insane, I think.
So I retract any statements that I may have made in the past about not wanting another child. I want one REAL bad. I just know that it's not exactly practical.
Except, when is having children about being practical?
