Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

At work Monday morning, I had a sneaking suspicion that I was missing something or had forgotten to do something. All of my work had been perfect since we got back from England and my boss was even talking about a promotion or at least giving me better things to write about. Still, I had the sneaking suspicion that I was neglecting something, my fear that I was doing something incorrectly being the reason why I kept ensuring my work was perfect.

Once I had turned in my story that week, three days before deadline, I flipped open my personal calendar to check and see what was going on. It wasn’t my parents anniversary or any of their birthdays. Ben’s birthday had passed in March and mine wasn’t until December. I had already bought Elle and Dirk their wedding present off the registry list. I had even sent Kip a birthday present to New York, even though everyone knew he didn’t deserve it. I was scanning all the dates in my day planner, trying to make sense of this back of the mind feeling of forgetfulness when Ben burst into my office bearing warm tacos and what appeared to be an already half empty two liter of soda.

“There aren’t in onions in that, are there?” I asked Ben, scrunching up my nose as he sat the tacos down on my desk.

“No,” Ben snorted. “Why are you so paranoid about onions all of a sudden? Did you develop some sort of allergy I don’t know about yet?”

“No,” I grimaced. “I just don’t like the way they taste, okay?”

“Alright,” Ben shrugged, handing me my tacos. I devoured them quickly and Ben looked at me, almost afraid. “You ate that almost as fast as I can.”

“Maybe you’re starting to rub off on me,” I shrugged. Ben sat on the edge of my desk and handed me the two liter.

“You can have the rest,” Ben said to me. “I already drank half, but you probably guessed that much already, huh?”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “Ben, am I forgetting to do something?”

“A million times no,” Ben rolled his eyes. “Why have you been paranoid? Is my mum getting to you because you weren’t like this before we went to see my parents…”

“It’s not that,” I sighed, “at least I don’t think it’s that.”

“You’re fine,” Ben said. “Quite worrying so much! You’re doing everything ahead of schedule. I wish I was as ahead at work as you are. I’m probably three days behind.”

“Then what are you doing in here talking to me?” I snorted. “You should get back to work if you’re that behind!”

“Maybe I don’t want to get back to work,” Ben replied. “Maybe I want to stay here with you.”

“That’s a fine way to loose your job,” I snorted. “That apartment doesn’t pay for itself, you know.”

“It’d be nice if it did,” Ben frowned. “Don’t worry about it, though. My job’s not in jeopardy.”

“I know,” I said, “but you should still make some effort to do it.”

“Fine,” Ben pouted. “Just as long as you let me have the remote control tonight.”

“Why do you want to pick what we watch on TV so badly?” I said.

“Because I don’t want to watch a movie on Lifetime or something like that,” Ben frowned.

“When have I ever made you watch a Lifetime movie?” I asked him.

“Well, you haven’t,” Ben frowned. “But I’m not that in to watching Wheel of Fortune either.”

“My dad is the one who made you change it over to Wheel of Fortune not me,” I said to him with a roll of my eyes. “You can pick what’s on TV, just go back to work before Landon comes in here to see what you’re up to.”

“Meanie,” Ben frowned. He gave me a kiss anyway and then headed back to work. I took the remainder of my tacos and the two liter into the break room to continue eating lunch. To my great exasperation, Jill and Elliot were standing right there as I walked into the room, whispering to each other, probably about me.

“What is it the two of you want?” I asked them, annoyed.

“Nothing,” the both said quickly and at the same time, making it obvious that they were talking about me just before I’d walked into the room.

I did my best to ignore them and continued eating my lunch while Elliot and Jill gave each other meaningful glances, as if I couldn’t see that the two of them were making fun of me. Once I had finished up my tacos and had the rest of the soda out of the two liter, I went over to the trash can to pitch both of them. When I dumped the tacos and empty bottle into the can, however, the overwhelming scent of onions and tuna wafted up towards my face, giving me a sort of odorous bitchslap. The scent was too much for me and I before I could really control what I was doing, I found myself hurling into the trash can with Elliot and Jill coming over, probably with the idea that I had bulimia and they could tell everyone in the office.

“Are you okay?” Jill asked, not so much concerned but actually with a giddy smile on her face.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just not feeling well.”

“Stomach virus?” Elliot said backing away from me like I had the plague.

“I guess,” I said. “I’ve been feeling a little sick and dizzy lately. I should probably go see my doctor.” I really didn’t know why I was telling them this, probably so they wouldn’t be able to tell everyone I had some sort of eating disorder.

“Sick and dizzy? Sleepy too?” Jill laughed.

“Maybe,” I said, wondering what she was getting at.

“Yeah, that’s how I felt a few months ago when I thought I was pregnant,” Elliot snorted. “Thank god that was a false alarm.”

Then it dawned on me what I had forgotten. Without a word to Elliot or Jill, I rushed back to my desk. I looked at my day planner to see what week it was and a frightening realization dawned on me that I was late. You know, that sort of late. Two weeks to be exact. And what I had been forgetting was the Pill. Ben had accidentally forgotten to pack it in our toiletries in his hurried rush to get us out of his parents house. I meant to pick it up from my doctor when we got back to Chicago but then I got busy with work and I assumed that now I was…

Pregnant? Shit.

I tried calling down to the photography department to get Ben to come up to my office immediately so I could tell him that this was all his fault and if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to get us out of there, none of this would have happened. I know you’re supposed to be all giddy and silly whenever you find out that you’re pregnant, but this was an accident. I mean, I had my career. I had plans to travel the world. I was going to write a book. I was going to be on Larry King Live or something like that. I had this long list of things that I wanted to do before I had kids and now… now I was going to be able to do that. When I found out that Ben had been sent out somewhere in the city on an assignment, I tired his cell. But when Ben is trying to get a good shot nothing can stop him. A street performer caught Ben’s arm on fire once and he didn’t stop to put it out. He got the shot and then had to check himself into the hospital for second degree burns.

Since Ben was currently unavailable, I decided to double check. I knew that it would make much sense to tell Ben I was pregnant only to not be pregnant because Ben would get his hopes up. And if I got Ben’s hopes up, he would have expectations, and expectations might lead to us actually having a baby, which I didn’t want. I mean, kids are great and all, but I wasn’t sure I wanted them. Especially not since I had only been married close to four months to a guy I hadn’t been serious about marrying in the beginning. Not to mention that I still wasn’t sure what was going to happen if Ben got his green card. For all I knew, he would get that green card and leave me so he could pursue a life somewhere else. After all, his parents didn’t seem to keen on the idea of me.

The Internet was a big help. Well, I mean help in not necessary the most wonderful of contexts. Cramps, bloating, nausea, fatigue, cravings, irritability… Shit. And to make matters worse, all of the e-mails my mother has been sending me to try to convince me to get knocked up are piling up in my Inbox.

Double shit.

I tried to delete the first one and accidentally opened it. It was an add for diapers with a big fat baby staring up at me with gleeful eyes and a playful expression on his face as he wears some new brand of extra-absorbent diapers. I didn’t want to know about diapers or anything like that and wanted to downsize the screen but I couldn’t. There was this big, fat baby staring up at me, taunting me. I couldn’t take the thought of it.

Babies? Triple Shit.

All I could do was get through the work day and then somehow manage to get home early. Ben was still wandering around Chicago somewhere, taking pictures of something and there I was, at home in the bathroom with eight different pregnancy tests I bought at the corner drugstore. Some have red lines, some have blue, some have one line, some have two. I needed to stop rhyming. Is that a symptom of pregnancy? Anyway, I put each test with his corresponding box and instructions so I could know which was which. After a lot of annoying peeing on a stick all that was left for me to do was sit and wait. And wait and wait and wait. It had to be the longest waiting period I’ve ever had in my entire life.

And then the time came and I had to read all of the little pee on a stick tests. I looked at the first and then the second. By the time I reached the sixth I feel like throwing up, and not just because of what I found out on the Internet. By the time I reach the eighth, it was all I could do to keep standing up. All of them, positive.

I know a woman is supposed to be exuberant and happy when she finds out she’s pregnant but all I could think about was, well there goes my life. All of the things I wanted to do in my life suddenly disappeared and all I could try and focus on was how this new twist was going to fit into my life. I mean, come on. Me? A mother? I barely could keep Ben functioning and he was a full grown adult. How was I supposed to deal with a baby? How was I supposed to turn into one of those cleaning-obsessed, coupon clipping, SUV driving, PTA president, soccer moms? I didn’t want to quit my job or move to the suburbs or be a glorified minivan driving chauffeur for a half a dozen brats whose way in life I would have to pay through college only for them to dump me in some cheap, trashy home when I reached retirement age.

Motherhood…? Shit.

Of course, I would have had more time and been able to better focus on this whole concept of motherhood if I hadn’t heard the door swing open and Ben announce to me that he was home.