As of this moment, I am either pregnant or I am not pregnant. Crazy thought, huh, being one or the other? Because isn't that exactly what all human beings are at any given time? I am the first one ever.
It's hard to say which way the cookie will crumble, thanks to last month's royal fuck of a wonky 31-day cycle, which completely threw off my ovulation window calculations, thanks very much, Mrs. Testy Vagina & Co.
So my period is due today but has not started, which last month would have had me all twitterpated and poking my boobs to see if they're tender until I bruised them and actually MADE them tender. This month, I'm not sure that anything short of a fetus leg falling out of my coot would convince me I'm knocked up.
It is exactly such unexplainable swings in my moods from scary-obsessed to mildly blasé at most that has me scrambling to meet with Dr. Crazy Socks on Monday.
Good luck with the whole knockedupedness drama. I remember the roller coaster well, it took a year to get preggo with Graham and we had so many ups and downs. Sucks. But then you have a kid you have to care for 24 hours a day and that sucks too. I mean, it's rewarding.
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