It's been exactly a year since I began this blog, so of course I had to write today. I thought I'd be reporting at least this month's answer to the babies or not question, but at this point, I still can't say for sure. I also thought this might be my final post. Now I'm not so sure about that either.
By my calculations, taking into consideration a later ovulation than usual, I should begin to bleed any minute. I back up this prediction with the pregnancy test I did yesterday, which returned an unambiguous not.
This is false hope. I know I should resist its seductive charms, the dream of J~ and I, laughing and crying and hugging in the bathroom when we see the positive test, the photograph of the result I'd post on this blog, the beautiful child, maybe another two years later, rounding out our happy family.
Every now and then I drop a dollar on a lottery ticket in order to spend a few days fantasizing about what I'd do with the winnings. Most of the fantasies are about nice things I'd do for my family and friends. When the drawing rolls around, I get a little thrill thinking, Maybe this time I'll actually get lucky! Then I see the winning numbers, which are not even close to my numbers, and I feel, briefly, derelict, and then silly for ever having hoped in the first place. Better to have spent that dollar on a pack of gum. Better to have spent my energy actually doing nice things, albeit cheaper nice things, for my family and friends.
If I still haven't begun to bleed in the next hour or so, I'll ask J~ to pick up a pregnancy test on his drive home from work. False hope must be dispelled by any means necessary. As soon as possible.
In the meantime, life goes on.
Speaking of which, I just called J~ (I'm a slow writer) and while we were talking, I began to feel that tell-tale slow-building crampy feeling in my gut. No blood yet, but I know where this is heading. Oh well.
I expected I'd be filling today's post with profound summations of what I've learned this year. Looking back over recent entries, I see I've already covered that ground.
All that remains now is to describe the visual in my mind that accompanies this momentous post: the sun, big and deep orange, dropping toward the far-off horizon, streaming golden light over the desert sand (Don't ask me why the desert, just notice that I've written "Babies or Not" in the foreground sand). My silhouette in the distance -- head high, plodding away on horseback (better: camelback!). The music swells as I disappear into the golden light, and, as if on cue, the sun sinks below the horizon. As the light changes to cool, blue, calm, the music trails away.
FADE TO BLA-- no wait! What's that on the horizon?
It's me, running back through the sand, unwilling to give up the blog, or the hope of my thankfully still-monthly roulette. I scrawl one more word in the sand. After "Babies or Not" I add: