Whoa, Baby!

I have spent the last three weeks worrying about being pregnant.



Yep, pregnant... at 47.



There was a possibility, though it was slim based on two things: age and the pill. As noted in the previous post, I was on the pill but was taken off because of a bout of colitis but I was on the pill and had been on the pill faithfully for months, no, years.

The caveat about the pill is that it could have failed due to the colitis cleaning out the gut and the colonoscopy preparations doing the same. The sexual encounter was between the colitis and the test.

The other reason why I really thought I might be was because I thought it would just be my luck. That would be the kind of thing that would happen. It would be a karmic thing, payback for the previous pregnancy that was terminated.

For any of you who don't know how the pill works, you take the hormone-laced pills for three weeks and placebos for one week. In that one week, you have a (usually light) period. So when I went off the pill on October 4, I fully expected to get a period by October 9. Except there was nothing, nada, zippo, zero, zilch... not a drop...

Doesn't make any sense. What should I think but pregnancy. I'm too young for menopause (aren't I?) But would an over-the-counter pregnancy test tell me if I were nine days pregnant?

I knew I was going out of state for training the week of October 13 and I knew I didn't want to take the burden of the truth (if I were) with me, so I bought the test but didn't take it. Instead, I spent the entire week thinking about what I would do.

What would I do? What could I do?

Would I tell the father? Should I tell the father?

Yes, not telling him was a serious consideration, although I think he would have been seriously hurt and upset and angry about it. His life position is unique in some ways in that, due to circumstances, he is unable to work and so must rely on his wife's income and, for the same reasons, would have a difficult time divorcing her. (It's a long story and one that is not mine to tell.) I could not and would not ask him to leave her; he would need to decide that for himself but I also don't know that I could support a family on my salary alone either.

I love him but don't know that I know him well enough to live with him. (And so you say then you should not be having sex that could lead to a child... no shit, Sherlock!) If that would be what he would decide--to leave her and come to me (if that was the situation), I would take him in, of course.

So I had decided I would tell him. The problem then is that I have no real way to contact him directly. It's more of a case of he contacts me when he's free... (yes, sometimes I do feel like a doormat.) I have an email address but I don't think it would be fair to just email and say: Hi, hope you're having a good day. Please get in touch ASAP. You're going to be a daddy in 9 mo.

Then there was the decision to abort or not to abort.

I did it before and I never ever want to do it again. But there are several considerations here. 1) I am on some serious high-powered drugs that can cause birth defects. 2) And age and old eggs increase the risk of birth defects exponentially over the age of 40. 3) I have a chronic disease of which a major part is fatigue along with pain and sleep disruption; caring for an infant (possibly multiples since the chances of multiple births also increases with age) would no doubt exacerbate that. 4) And, in all likelihood, I would be doing most if not all of the child rearing by myself at some point in the child's life. 5) I would be 68 when the child was 20. I would be 88 when the child is 40. Is that fair?

Are those selfish reasons? Just excuses? Guilt screaming in my head and heart? I still can't say.

But there's also a part of me that regrets terribly never having had children. I have women friends who have teenagers who get into trouble or just exasperate them and they tell me I should be glad I don't have kids, but I can't be. Just like when they say the same about not having a husband when they get mad at theirs. What I wouldn't give for one? I would probably give all the books I own at this moment but it's not happened and it may never--child or husband.

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I came back on Friday, intending to take the test right away, but I didn't. I was too much of a coward.

I had convinced myself that I wasn't. I had finally found an infertility website that had some statistics about the drop-off in fertility rates after 40 and I felt reasonably sure I wasn't but I was still afraid.

I got the test out and read the directions. It sat there on the bathroom vanity all through Saturday and into Sunday. I decided I'd collect the urine and dip the stick; I found a clean container and sat it beside the test. Time after time I emptied my bladder into the toilet but just looked at the stick and the cup.

Finally, I did it. I set the timer for 3 minutes and walked away. Only one pink stripe appeared. NOT pregnant. Thank you, God~! Then I wished I'd done it days before!!

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But it all did serve a purpose, I think. After the scare of the colitis and the realization that the BC pills were no longer an option, it made me think about additional life shifts. First, that I could be pregnant and what would that mean for my relationship with my beneficial friend. Second, that I am aging, there really is no going back, and I must go forward and decide what I want out of what is left of my life--what is important here. Third, that I must consider my life's decisions carefully and in light of what I believe is moral and ethical.

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There is a card in the major arcana of the tarot deck called the Tower and on it is a picture of a castle tower being hit by lightning and people falling out of it. The interpretation of the card is one of change, usually sudden and unpleasant, but leading to something different and often better.

I feel as if I've drawn the Tower card. The lightning struck and I am still falling, not sure where the hell I'm going to land and how many pieces I'll be in. I will land though, eventually.

So Pinky says...