blogs
Gambling in the morning
I awoke again to face the stick.
I rushed to the bathroom, bladder near to bursting, hoping this would be the morning that the little pink lines on the pregnancy test would appear in my favor.
Forget reading the instructions, I had them memorized. Remove sleave. Sprinkle. Wait.
One pink line appears as it does every morning. I look away. OK. Maybe if I don't watch, the other pink line will appear.
What if I shake it? I shake the stick without looking at the readout. Hmm. Maybe I didn't saturate it like I did yesterday's. I dip it in the toilet, again without looking at the readout. I wait. I flip through the instruction pamphlet. Should I have done that? Should I wait longer than three minutes?
I look in the mirror. I smile. I look at the readout.
I drop the plastic stick, like some spent lottery scratch ticket. No winner. A dud.
I wash my face and hands. Are my eyes puffy? I head to breakfast wondering if I should wait until later in the week before trying again. You know, the hormone levels will be higher. Waiting is a good idea. Saturday is a lucky day.
A newspaper report wonders about the needs of working mothers. I stare out the window. Delicate pink blossoms wet with dew slowly close to the warming sun.
Maybe I'll buy more sticks tomorrow.
I awoke again to face the stick.
I rushed to the bathroom, bladder near to bursting, hoping this would be the morning that the little pink lines on the pregnancy test would appear in my favor.
Forget reading the instructions, I had them memorized. Remove sleave. Sprinkle. Wait.
One pink line appears as it does every morning. I look away. OK. Maybe if I don't watch, the other pink line will appear.
What if I shake it? I shake the stick without looking at the readout. Hmm. Maybe I didn't saturate it like I did yesterday's. I dip it in the toilet, again without looking at the readout. I wait. I flip through the instruction pamphlet. Should I have done that? Should I wait longer than three minutes?
I look in the mirror. I smile. I look at the readout.
I drop the plastic stick, like some spent lottery scratch ticket. No winner. A dud.
I wash my face and hands. Are my eyes puffy? I head to breakfast wondering if I should wait until later in the week before trying again. You know, the hormone levels will be higher. Waiting is a good idea. Saturday is a lucky day.
A newspaper report wonders about the needs of working mothers. I stare out the window. Delicate pink blossoms wet with dew slowly close to the warming sun.
Maybe I'll buy more sticks tomorrow.
