Tuesday, September 14.
Tuesday was an Early Release Day at school.
We had a gang awareness professional development and were to meet in the auditorium after eating pizza in the cafeteria.
I had three slices because I was starving.
Shortly thereafter, I felt queasy.
I complained to my coworkers that I thought I had the flu.
I’d already told my mother that. She said "I thought I had the stomach flu once…it was Adrienne."
My coworkers teased me and told me that I was probably pregnant.
On the way home, on the hundred degree, twenty minute, two lane drive from Creedmoor to Raleigh, I almost felt like I’d need to pull over.
I was going to be sick. My period was overdue by three days.
The CVS appeared to the right, and the words of one of my coworkers, the Spanish teacher, floated through my head.
"You might want to take the test, just to be sure."
Further I thought:
Besides, I’m only three days late. This has happened before. I’ll just buy the test to rule out pregnancy.
Just in case, I’ll go ahead and drink a Coke… This may be my last.
I got home and brought in the bags.
Opened the Coke, took a swig. I really had to pee.
Deliberately waited a while.
Then ran to the bathroom, hands shaking, to read the instructions and rip the little test from its package.
It told me to hold the stick in there for only five seconds – but I think I held it in there for seven.
The stick turned pink – it was absorbing my urine.
Less than thirty seconds later, there was a bright blue "plus" sign in the test window.
I gasped. I might have actually said "NO!" aloud.
It was supposed to take two minutes.
I should wait two minutes.
I ran out of the bathroom, made some popcorn, swigged some more Coke. I figured that the popcorn would take 1:30 to pop – meaning that the test should be done.
The popcorn finished. I took it out and set it on the table.
I went back to the bathroom to check.
The plus sign was, if possible, brighter than before.
I began making phone calls.
was the first to answer.
I hyperventilated into the phone. "It wasn’t supposed to be this quick!" He asked me to calm down and explain, and then began worrying about his role as a godfather.
My mother beeped in. I told her.
"My baby’s having a baby!" she squealed, in her best Claire Huxtable impersonation.
"Don’t tell, yet! I’ve got to be sure!"
By the time came home, I was laying on the couch, calmly ignoring the suddenly disgusting popcorn balled up in the bag.
I had a red blanket draped over me, and I think I was watching Law & Order: SVU.
I was holding the test in my hands.
He opened the door. "Hey, you’re home – I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour."
"Why?" he said.
I handed him the test in response.
He peered at it.
"Wow." He looked up at me, misty eyed. He chuckled. The I’m-Actually-Crying-Isn’t-That-Ridiculous? Chuckle. The one he saved for really sweet scenes in movies. "Wow!" he repeated. He swooped me up and held me tight.
We spent the rest of the night making phone calls. Angela, Dad, Tim, Robert, Joyce…Taymo again…
I took the test again. It was just as positive as before. I felt like I’d learned a new trick.
We agreed not to tell anyone. And then I told two of my coworkers and my sisters the next day.
I made a dr’s appt. It’s on Monday. Apparently, I’m 4 weeks.
I still don’t think I’m pregnant.
It still looks like the stomach flu to me.