Sometimes I don’t write what I’m thinking here. Part of it is because I’m afraid that when whatever it is I’m thinking of doesn’t come to fruition, I’ll look stupid, or whiny, or overemotional. And part of it is because I have a weird superstition that if I talk about something, it won’t come true. That’s why, for the past week or so, I didn’t post anything about thinking I was pregnant, though I did post oblique clues. I finally did post that I had taken the pregnancy test…but by then it was out of desperation. I couldn’t find the answer I wanted on my own, so I was waiting for someone out there to give me hope, by agreeing that the hormone levels might not be right to make a home test register as positive, or that my symptoms seemed like those of a pregnancy, or that yes, I should have had another period by now, even though I hadn’t had one in five years until May and there’s no particular reason they should all of a sudden be regular now.

That affirmation didn’t come, but I didn’t know that when I decided to finally tell Sean.

I figured he would think I was stupid for taking a pregnancy test. I figured he would think that there’s no way I could get pregnant without the help of an endocrinologist.

I figured right, but he didn’t ridicule me. He does love me, after all.

I told him how I’d been having feelings of nausea, how I’d been tired, and how my period is three weeks late. I told him I took a test and it was negative.

“Well, that’s to be expected,” he said.

Surely he didn’t understand, I thought. Just because a doctor says something doesn’t mean it’s true. Medicine is built on best-guesses. “So…I just wanted to ask how long you think we should wait before asking the doctor about it.”

“About what? If you’re pregnant?” His voice had a note of disbelief in it.

“Or whatever, about why I haven’t had another period,” I said.

“We know why that is, though.”

I blinked. “No, we don’t.”

Sean had that patient look on his face. “The doctor said your system is messed up.”

“But–” Why did I have a period then?

He seemed to anticipate the question. “That period you had was a fluke. It won’t happen again.”

Now I was irritated. “He never said that. He never said anything about my periods stopping.”

Sean wrapped his arms around me. “I think you should go to the endocrinologist so you can see why the doctor wanted you to go there. You can have a test if you want. If you’re pregnant now, that’s fine, but I don’t think that’s what it is.”

“But I’ve been nauseated,” I repeated. “Today I really almost threw up.” It was true; I heaved over the toilet for quite some time, though nothing came of it.

“Stephen threw up a lot last week,” Sean said, as if that settled everything. How some guy out West vomiting had anything to do with me, I couldn’t quite see. I think the gist was ‘people get sick’. But not me…I don’t throw up. I just don’t. I don’t feel nauseated like this. “It could be the heat,” Sean continued. “This heat’ll make you nauseous.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, nodding, but not believing a word of it. I’ve been mildly nauseated from workouts and heat before. This is different. This is me, sitting calmly in a chair under a fan in the air conditioning, feeling like I’m going to wretch out my guts.

But I can’t prove that it’s different, can I? What if it’s only different psychosomatically?

And what if it’s allergies, like my coworker said?

I tried to get at least partially back on track. “So…you want me to have an appointment with the endocrinologist.”

He chuckled and hugged me again. “If you want to.” After a beat, he added, “But I don’t want you to start treatments now.”

“I know you don’t,” I said. “I don’t want to start them now either.”

That was basically true. If I got pregnant now, naturally, without treatments, I would be ecstatic. But financially, I would choose to wait. Though not long. I don’t want to wait long. I want to have a child while I’m still in my twenties.

“Okay,” he said.

I hugged him and said, “I wish doctors would give you stuff in writing. You know, a nice letter that explains exactly how it is, instead of having a nurse tell you vaguely over the phone.” He sort of chuckled, and that was pretty much the end of that.

I wish it would just happen. I wish I was pregnant right now. I’m sort of scared that if we try to schedule it, it’ll never get done.

We are both so disorganized. Our lease expired last month and we didn’t know it until one of the office girls showed up today to see if we’d moved out. Sean has a sort of “Whatever happens, happens” attitude towards life, and he expects all service providers to give him adequate notice of anything pressing. I don’t do the bills, so it wasn’t my jurisdiction anyway.

Maybe people like us don’t have any business having kids…but I’m working at improving myself. I think being a parent is the most important and difficult and rewarding work there is, and I want to rise to that challenge. I’ve looked forward to it my whole life.

So, here I am, still thinking I’m pregnant despite the negative test, just sort of waiting and wondering.

One disturbing thought I’ve also been having…if I’m not pregnant, and I’m just not going to have any more periods…what would that mean? Would that change anything?

It’s about bedtime, but I think I’ll watch some Hikaru no Go before I go (though I’ve been all choked up and sobbing at silly parts–sometimes with joy, sometimes with sorrow, but all mostly because I love Sai, I think he’s one of the best characters in any show ever, and I miss him terribly).