Wal-Mart isn’t someplace I normally associate with life-changing moments. Although if you’re going to have a public freakout Wallyworld does have a lot to recommend it: Not only can you buy tranquilizers, Natural Calm and fuzzy socks (just me?) but it seems like there are always a bunch of people around to call 911 if you actually make good on your promise to pass out. Yet when I decided to start hyperventilating, I went into the bathroom to hide. Nothing like a public restroom to guide you! Instead of two-roads-diverging-in-a-yellow-wood ambiance, I had two stalls in a peeling yellow bathroom. (If you mis-read that as “peeing” know that’s how I first typed it. I’m not sure I was wrong either way.)
Guiltily I took the bigger stall, the one with the large blue disabled placard on the front, because, by golly, I needed my space — if not for my person, at least for my huge emotions. Plus I was the only person in the bathroom. And I was totally prepared to bolt out with my pants around my ankles should I hear a wheelchair rolling in. Promise.
As I sat down on the toilet, my body threatened to betray me by doing the nervous pee. See, anxiety makes my bladder hyperactive and, ironically, the thing that was making me so anxious needed me to not prematurely pee. I squeezed my knees together and Kegel’ed as I pulled the box out of my purse. (I hadn’t stolen it, I’d just hidden it directly after I purchased it, in case I saw anyone I knew. You would be shocked at who you run into at 7 a.m. in a Wal-Mart.)
I tore open the box and stuffed it in the trash slot, not even bothering to rescue the directions first. Who needs directions when you’ve taken as many of these things as I have? One line negative, two lines positive I muttered under my breath as I stared at the plastic wand vibrating in my shaking hands. This tiny piece of pink plastic had the power to rewrite my future, to obliterate my plans, to show me again that I am not, after all, the captain of my fate.
Don’t be so dramatic. This moment could change my whole life.
Not really, of course. What was done was done and no amount of closing my eyes and chanting in a yellow restroom stall was going to change that. But as long as I didn’t know I had plausible deniability and could pretend that it wasn’t what it was. Or wasn’t. One period, four weeks late equals a fifth child? I knew someday math was going to come back and bite me in the butt! (I had just always assumed it would be the humiliation of not being able to calculate my own change during a power shortage at the store.)
By now I am a seasoned pro at pregnancy — you can tell by how often I work words like “cervix check”, “tummy fur” and “the search for the lost piece of placenta (he was in up to HIS ELBOW)” into casual conversations — and I wondered how I’d missed all the signs up to this point. In fact, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until my sister pointed out that I probably ought to take a test. I’d been so busy exulting in finally, for the first time in over a decade, being free of diapers, of not waking up to the sound of puke hitting the wall, of getting to sleep in on Saturdays because everyone could pour their own cereal (even if they fight like rabid puppies over it). This freedom was glorious. So glorious that the brightness had blinded me to the .3% failure rate of my IUD.
I couldn’t be pregnant again. Certainly I would know it! As I uncapped the test and prepared to do my best to aim my pee at the tiny target I reviewed my usual tell-tale signs? Peeing a lot, nausea, and larger boobs. I sighed. Of course thinking about them made me want to do all three at the same time. Balancing the test carefully on top of the toilet paper holder, I cupped my breasts in my hands trying to decide if they were bigger. I considered calling my husband at work to ask him if he’d noticed but thought better of it when I remember his office has an “open” floor plan – “open” meaning no walls, of course, not “open” meaning you can discuss your wife’s breast size next to the developer’s lab. There’s always a text but I had a feeling any text involving boobs would be woefully misinterpreted.
Yes, I decided finally, I think they are bigger! My stomach lurched. (Morning sickness?!) But perhaps the chest enhancement was simply because I’d gained weight recently. (Weight gain?!) Does Wal-Mart have maternity clothes? At the rate this pregnancy was progressing I was going to need some before I could make it out of the store. Except of course you’re not supposed to wear maternity clothes any more – the newest trend in pregnancy fashion is to wear “real” clothes the whole nine months. Panel pants are for wusses! (Very comfortable wusses who like to enjoy the odd the Chocolate Extreme Blizzard, thank you very much.)
Rescuing the test from the toilet paper holder, I decided to just bite the bullet and do it already. I clenched the grippy end between my fingers and…
My bladder had performance anxiety.
I took a deep breath and imagined waterfalls, Chuck Norris, lemonade, Vladimir Putin, giant canyon swings and other things guaranteed to make me pee. A few drops came out and sprinkled the test. And that was it. I hadn’t waited long enough since my last pee! I hadn’t drunk enough water! I hadn’t done air jacks and deep back squats, darnnit!! You’re supposed to hold it under the stream for 5 seconds and I got maybe 1. Staring at the slightly damp stick I wondered if I should just stick it in the toilet to pick up any residual pee. Perhaps the cleaning lady would choose that moment to come in and see my teary eyes as I stood over the toilet, stirring the bowl with my useless, expensive plastic stick and call the psych ward for me?
Instead I settled on just re-capping it and shaking it around, banging it on the wall for good measure. Then I set it down and waited to see if any lines showed up. No lines equals failed test. As I waited I began to think about what would happen if two lines did show up. I’m 36 now so I’d officially be a high risk pregnancy just due to my “advanced maternal age”. (Thank you for that, medical establishment.) But of course the baby would be fine, right? I’m very healthy…ish!
And she would be a girl. I have three boys already and Jelly Bean would love a sister. If the universe was going to wreck all my plans by knocking me up this late in life it would have to give me another girl. (Because that’s how babies work. Someone tell king Henry VIII.) I would name her Lark. Isn’t that the cutest, happiest, slightly hipsteriest name for a little girl? Lark. A little baby bird that flew in the window, just like J.M. Barrie’s original Peter Pan. I closed my eyes and pictured a bald, chubby baby… who was buck naked of course because we’d given away every single baby thing the second Jelly Bean grew out of it!
Crap, I don’t even have a crib anymore! (Although Son #3 slept his first three months in a laundry basket which, if you think about it, is really just like a trendy Moses basket but way more durable, with ergonomic handles and perforated so they can’t smother. In hindsight I should have had all my babies sleep in laundry baskets.) Nor did I have a car seat, diapers, clothes, sippy cups or those ridiculous binkies that make your baby look like they have big buck teeth. Just then my eyes lit upon the weekly mailer that someone had left on the floor. Baby items were on the first page. Would Wal-Mart dare put product placement in my pee?!
Had it been a minute yet? I tried to will myself to look at the test but I couldn’t do it.
How would I tell people I’m pregnant? I mean, after the first two people kind of stop congratulating you. After #3 people start to ask you if you know how birth control works. By #4 the only people who will meet your eyes are the ones who look at you with a mixture of pity and horror as if to say your vagina is a clown car. (Which isn’t to say that we didn’t want and love all four of our kids. They were all planned. We were happy about it, even if I did get a lot of “Oh my you certainly are… busy!”)
The real question was how would I tell myself I was pregnant? My husband and I were done done done. When people asked (because oh yes they ask!) if we were having more I’d point to my uterus and loudly say “This shop is closed!” Because classy. The truth is that I deeply did not want to be pregnant again. And it’s not just the whole another-mouth-to-feed (with my poor, gnawed on boobs). But pregnancy is a hormonal roller coaster and my post-partum anxiety has gotten worse every time. I feel like I have no resources left for the rest of my kids, for my husband, for me. It takes me a long time to come out of that hazy fog. Plus, we’ve already lost a daughter to a genetic disorder (and had a traumatic miscarriage) – pregnancy is crapshoot for us every time and I was terrified to roll those dice again.
But what about little Lark? Would she think I didn’t want her? Of course I’d love her (eventually). It would all work out. My future would re-sort itself out like a new hand of cards. It would be fine. I will be fine. I picked up the test.
Two lines. Pregnant.
So I burst into hysterical tears. In the dirty bathroom. In Wal-Mart. No. I will not be fine. There is no worse place to be alone than in a place called a “supercenter” — it is the center of all that is super! I was not super. I bolted out of the stall, leaving my glaring pregnancy test on the top of the pile of paper towels in the waste bin. Whoever came in next would witness the residue of human drama. I didn’t even stop to buy a car seat.
At home, I sobbed to my husband as I choked out the words. Because he is awesome and a rock, he took it a lot better than I did. He comforted me and told me how it will all work out. We talked about our battered minivan, our battered finances. We talked about how a baby would fit into my jobs, my body, my life. The pieces would make a different puzzle but they would still fit together.
And then he asked, “Are you, you know, sure that you read the test correctly?”
Anger ripped through me. This was not my first pee-flinging rodeo! “Of course I did! It’s simple. One line just means the test worked. Two lines means you’re preggo. That’s how every pregnancy test works.”
To prove it I marched to my purse and pulled out the second test (because like jet engines and clean underwear you should always have a spare) and handed it to him.
“Are you sure?” He looked at the box. One line and a plus sign equals pregnancy. He held it up. “Did you have a plus sign or just two lines?”
Chagrin. (I am an idiot. Who doesn’t look at the picture ON THE BOX?)
And then a whoosh of hot emotion went through me like a backdraft in a fire. Or like peeing my pants. (There may have been actual pee involved, ironically.) In that one moment the image of Lark went up and out of my arms and into the sky, settling among the stars. I looked for her in the empty space inside me. Did I miss her? Could I miss a baby that never was? I would have loved her. We all would have.
And then I was crying tears of relief. I’m not pregnant! My life clicked back into sharp focus. Everything had changed yet nothing had changed.
I had no plus sign. Not pregnant.
***
Post-script: Then I rushed to my computer and started Googling What are the symptoms of perimenopause? Because Mother Nature is still four weeks late for our monthly brunch of red meat, chocolate and raspberry leaf tea — that doesn’t happen for no reason. And also because apparently I must have something to worry about.
Oh my! You had me gripping onto my seat! What a wonderful writer you are?
That’s absolutely what I wanted to write! And just that I’ve had the same thoughts, the same feelings, even though I have “only” two kids.
I’m more relieved than I thought I could possibly be just by reading a blog post. Seemed so real for a couple of minutes…
Oh thank you! You are so kind!
Oh you guys are so sweet! You totally made my day:) It’s nice to know that people will still read even if it’s not fitness;) Thank you!
I agree with you Laura P. Thanks to Charlotte for sharing:-)
Oh, Charlotte.. how I thought you were leaving the blogging world; but happy to see you are back to share this gem of a story.
It was like I was right there with you in the stall.. lol.
Congrats on being not-pregnant? And hopefully all is well!!
Haha thanks! I’ll take it the congratulations;) And yeah, I’m definitely not leaving blogging it’s just going to be intermittent now and not so much about fitness…
Reading that was an emotional roller coaster. As always, I appreciate you candidly sharing parts of your life. (The site re-design looks great, too!)
Oh thank you! You are so sweet:)
Loving your new site look! So clean and polished.
What is it about taking pregnancy tests that makes your hands shake? I’m of the pee in a cup and dip persuasion and the one cycle I was pregnant I kept missing the cup with the stick because my hands were shaking so badly! Glad to hear things worked out the way you wanted. Correct me if I’m wrong (I’ve never had an IUD) but I thought it wasn’t uncommon to miss periods with an IUD?
Hahah – good tip about the cup! And yeah, with some IUDs you can lose your period but it’s not really associated with the type I have. But who know?
This had me laughing out loud! This was me 3 years ago. I came back from vacation in Banff wondering why I was feeling ravenous all the time and why I wanted to eat the Sbarro pizza at the Calgary airport. Just like you, we were done, using birth control, no more baby gear and I was 38. Three positive pregnancy tests later I was freaking out. My older kids were 9 and 11! I was done with babies. I thought I was really freaking out until I went to the doctor, she began ultra sounding me and clapped her hand over her mouth and said, “there are 2 in there”. Twins. Anyway, as you see, I can relate to all your panic and mixed emotions. In our case, despite being the world’s biggest shock, I can’t imagine my family now with out our unexpected addition of two more. Although I do miss sleeping in…….a lot.
TWINS. I can’t even. You are amazing Heather!
Oh wow! What a day!!! Thanks for sharing
Alright…
…first the important question:
Chuck Norris makes you pee?
Second, as an astute student of the obvious: Charlotte, you are a FANTASTIC writer!!!!
TOTAL emotional roller coaster ride complete with the trem-bly anxious nuanced BEGINNINGS of shifts in elevation and direction along with the high highs and steep drops!!!!
My last emotional roller coaster ride was yesterday.
Oldest boy – second child’s birthday yesterday…somewhere.
He is fourteen now.
I have not seen him since he was five…a few months from being six.
And my oldest (girl) was seven then. My third – a boy was three and my little baby girl was one.
My then-wife had nine miscarriages. With one D&C (baby-boy Darwin Junior).
On my roller coaster, I figured those ones are with me.
Bouncing along and chattering excitedly with me on my long walks.
That thought makes me smile.
And, I know I will see my now older four babies again.
That also makes me smile.
And I know for YOU Charlotte, the reality is that despite the historical personal hardship which may have been repeated, baby Lark would have been SO loved and greatly treasured by you.
And VERY truly blessed to have you as her Mom!
Too funny! You’re such a great story teller! I had my own traumatic prego test situation. Granted, the test ended up positive…6.5 months positive!!!
Aw congrats! I love other people’s pregnancies!! 🙂
OOOooh!
ADDENDUM!!!!
How does this experience relate to the “reality” we guys are ALWAYS told about in which females DON’T WANT US TO SOLVE PROBLEMS!!!!
Which is, by the way, always capitalized, underlined and highlighted in NEON accompanied by a multitude of exclamation points when it is explained to us by females that females JUST WANT US TO LISTEN AND NOT OFFER ANY OPINIONS OR CLARITY.
Seriously.
We men (informal life-long poll with experience with females other than my mother and my sister because they LIKE contributions) have gotten a death stare because we LOOKED like we might happen to have a thought about a situation.
I personally have taken my life into my hands speaking with different females (not just my ex) with such innocuous comments such as:
“Well…that’s because North is actually…that way.”
“The car isn’t broken. Your emergency brake is on.”
“But the official announcement says that Allison Mack from SMALLVILLE will actually BE at Comic-Con. So you DIDN’T buy your tickets for noting. And your fringe sources were mistaken.”
“Your boyfriend does not want to acknowledge that he is dating you. He hits you up for cuddles and kisses and meals and borrows your car. Yet he doesn’t actually want you to be seen with him. He’s using you like a doormat. Don’t let him do that.”
MULTIPLE WOMEN (friends of the female in question and the female in question) were mad at me for MONTHS because I pointed that out.
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And even you…my hero Charlotte!
Quote: And then he asked, “Are you, you know, sure that you read the test correctly?”
Anger ripped through me.
***********************************************************************************
*I take opportunity at this time to point out how much I admire your husband. Nerves of steel.
And your reason for your seething reaction? “This was not my first pee-flinging rodeo!”
True…but your LAST “pee-flinging rodeo” was…what? Some months over four years ago now?
Is your cell phone even that old?
The point being:Things change.
Plus signs added to lines.
I’ve seen the commercials.
No doubt your husband did too. Hence his logical question.
And…double checking even triple checking the data (like Heather C, who also added an ultrasound) is always an option.
Again, hence his logical question.
Innocently hopeful and hopefully helpful thoughts which we guys get into trouble for.
So my question is…of course: What’s up with that?
Well that was a roller coaster ride! I would not, unless the need was dire, check if I was pregnant at Walmart. Everybody knows that you carry that bag of testers like it is toxic waste or the last piece of chocolate on earth back to your home washroom where you securely lock the door.
SO TRUE: “Everybody knows that you carry that bag of testers like it is toxic waste or the last piece of chocolate on earth back to your home washroom where you securely lock the door.” I will remember that for next time. Except I hope there will be no next time;)
Wow!! Every OB doc should read this!
Soooo… they know how crazy we can get? 😉
I like your new lay-out!
This story had me on the edge of my seat. Congrats on the, um, non-pregnancy?
I’ve had more pregnancy tests than I can remember, but I never even considered I may be pregnant for a single one. I’ve done some clinical trials and they make you take a pregnancy test before giving you experimental drugs (as they should). I was also forced to take one before my doctor would give me birth control, even though I clearly stated I was a virgin. ‘Cause I was smart enough to get birth control before I, ya know, changed that status.
Now my husband has a vasectomy and I have an IUD. The doc called it the “belt and suspenders” method.
I wonder if I could get my husband to agree to the belt and suspenders method? Love it.
Holy mackerel!
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I need to go lie down.
(Glad everything worked out ! <3)
Hahaha thanks, lady!
Good heavens, that was a read and a half! 🙂 SO delighted to see you back (and you don’t have to post every day or anything, it’s nice to just see random posts pop up, like nice surprises), and I love the site re-design (and your new photo!). So fresh and pretty.
Aw thank you Sara!
I am laughing so hard because I have been there! Not at Walmart, but in that same moment. Sigh.
Also, i love the new look of your blog!
Aw thank you!! You are the sweetest!
By the way…
I LOVE how the site is color coordinated with your photo ensemble [from the Old French meaning TOGETHER – a group of complimentary parts that contribute to a single effect – like…a coordinated outfit]
Beautiful.
Glad the whole event? ordeal? happening? turned out ok. Your story reminded me of three things.
1. I have taken many many pregnancy tests and they were always negative, even when I actually WAS pregnant! Except for the last baby. I took that test and couldn’t believe it said I was pregnant so I had to go buy more tests from a different company to double check!
2. I was 45 when I took that last test and loathed being an ‘at risk’ mother to be. He’s a fine young man who is almost 14 now btw.
3. A recent saying I came across REALLY resonates with me: “Worrying is using your imagination to create something you don’t want!” Isn’t that just SO true?!? My husband says I invent things to worry about all the time. btw, I hate it when he is right too. 😀
Ummmm your #1 is giving me a bit of a panic now! I still haven’t got my period. But your #2 gives me hope and totally made me smile. And YES to #3. I’m a terrible worry-creator!
I do not want to ever think about .3% failure rates ever again. 🙂
Amen!
Oh Charlotte! Mine was late this month too and I did such a similar deal-taking a test (juuuuust to be sure) all the while thinking “IUD, IUD, this can’t be positive right? Oh goodness what will I do if it is and everything would change-it can’t be with an IUD right?” Another friend then mentioned she had the same deal this month too! Glad we all got the results we wanted, even if there were scary moments first!
Hahaha – glad to know I’m not alone in this! And congrats to you too;)
So I know it varies with the type of IUD, but I thought it was pretty normal to eventually lose your period when you have an IUD.
Love and {{hugs}} for the roller coaster. I’ve been there!
Thank you Bethany! Lighter periods aren’t usually associated with the type of IUD I have but who knows really? My body always seems to find the exception;)
…isn’t losing your period a common thing with IUDs? Maybe? Or is that only with the ones like Mirena that also have a hormone component?
Thanks for sharing this story with us! I recently had a “scare”, too, and you perfectly described the flurry of emotion that runs through as you wait for the positive or negative.
Yeah, it’s not normally associated with the IUD that I have but who knows at this point!
Gotta say that I LOVE both posts you’ve done since you decided to take a step back from the blog. So passionate and interesting. All killer, no filler 😉
Hahah thank you! This means a lot to me!
Oh, man Charlotte. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach whilst reading this. I have SOOOO been there, only ours turned out positive. SURPRISE! NUMBER #3! He’s now almost 10 months old and we love him anyways, LOL! (We actually love him to the moon and back plus some. It did take all through the pregnancy and until the day after he was born for me to get it through my head that everything was going to be alright, though.)
I’m glad for you that you, in the end, got the result you wanted. I can say from personal experience that pregnancy and baby raising at 37 is more difficult than at 27. (Not that I’m complaining, mind you.)
Also, up until a couple decades ago, pregnant mothers our age were called “elderly”! Chew on that for a second! : )
Also, that picture is hilarious! Thank goodness they had test to tell them she was pregnant. It’s hard to tell when you’re “only” that far along. Hee-hee.
Hey if you wanted to complain, I’d totally let you;) And thank you for sharing your story of later-in-life motherhood (I refuse to say “elderly”!!) – you made me smile and smile.
Oh my! What a rollercoster!
You write so well Charlotte 🙂
Aw thank you!
OHMYGOD I couldn’t contain myself and busted out laughing so hard! you are an exceptionally talented writer! Sorry to hear about Lark, but hey you never know 😉 jk
Oh thank you! If you got a laugh then it was totally worth all the drama!
“Your vagina is a clown car” – funniest line I have heard all week! Thanks for the laugh.
Oh my gosh you are such a good writer. And secret or now not so secret admission I totally found out I was pregnant in a Walmart bathroom and I used the disabled stall too! Gah! I did not misread the box though.
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You really are a fantastic writer – the construction of this is compelling, and I love the ending: “In that one moment the image of Lark went up and out of my arms and into the sky, settling among the stars. I looked for her in the empty space inside me. Did I miss her? Could I miss a baby that never was? I would have loved her. We all would have.
And then I was crying tears of relief. I’m not pregnant! My life clicked back into sharp focus. Everything had changed yet nothing had changed.”
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