12. Abby #2
I had read on one of the online blogs that an expectant couple had tried, and their digital test said they were not pregnant, but then they pulled the test apart, and it was, in fact, false.
The digital reader had been faulty, and the inside had two lines, but the digital portion had read it as “Not Pregnant.” They were indeed pregnant, and they were now happy parents to a nine-pound baby.
I had become so obsessed that I was pulling apart digital pregnancy tests.
That’s probably when I hit my rock bottom of the fertility treatment world.
I was miserable and aching in a way no one could comprehend.
So yes, this moment in time, this paper box, signifies a lot of different emotions for me.
It really hurts to look at a test and feel such animosity toward an object.
Especially when, just a few hours ago, I was blissfully unaware of so many things.
Before Rios said anything, I never imagined anything would bring me to this bathroom looking at this pink and white box again.
I only believed I caught a little bug. But now my mind has taken off, and it’s dangerous where it is going now.
Because in this little box in front of me, my dreams will soon implode into a million little nightmares that will crash once again.
So I’ll simply stare at this box for a little longer and let the dreams float above me.
I’ll let myself live blissfully content in this world where possibilities run endless—where my heart is still sort of whole.
I’m so entranced by this carton in front of me that my phone startles me when it rings. “Hey Lover” vibrates off my bathroom walls, and I feel just a little relief that my best friend might be able to calm my nerves.
“What is so urgent it warranted all caps, Abby? You trying to give me a heart attack over here?” she says into my ear.
“I’m staring at a box of pregnancy tests and trying to talk myself into taking one.” I decide not to waste any time and cut straight to the point.
“Okay, let’s back up a bit and start from the beginning,” Marissa says, and so I do. I tell her everything from how I’ve been feeling sick all the way to my vomiting on Rios this afternoon.
For someone who is usually full of comebacks and arguments, silence is all I’m met with on the other end.
“Marissa, say something,” I demand.
“Let me understand this: you were married for years and fucked like all the time, and it resulted in no baby. But you got together once on a random night without measuring temperatures or doing any treatments, and you’re saying you might be pregnant?
” This is typical Marissa. She has to lay out all the facts.
Like her brain has to process everything out in the simplest terms.
“Yes, it would seem so if this turns out to be true, which I think is unlikely,” I respond.
“Way to stay positive,” she retorts.
“Marissa, what do you want me to say? I’m kinda freaking out here.
I mean, what the hell? This is really a lot to process if this turns out to be positive.
But it won’t be positive, so why am I freaking out?
I’m probably stressed. This project is a mess, and I’m sleeping like crap.
It’s just a lot going on!” I start to pace my bathroom.
“Okay, then just take the test,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Okay, I will,” I respond.
“Okay, then do it, and I’ll wait.”
“Like while you’re on the phone?”
“Well, isn’t that why you wanted me to call? To do the test with you? I mean, why this whole show of things?” I hate that she knows me so well.
“Fine, wait here,” I say, putting the phone on the counter on speaker.
“Like I have any control over where you put me.” She laughs into the phone.
“Smart ass!” I yell.
I grab the box, my hands shaking as I walk into the en-suite toilet.
I just stare at it a little longer, the packaging still unopened, until I hear Marissa yell out, “Just fucking open the box, Abby. I know you’re scared, but you’re not alone.
I’m here. I’ll be here with you. You’re not going to go through it alone. ”
Her words help me muster the courage to finally pull the tab open, and I grab the test out and rip the foil packet. When I’m finally done peeing on it, I cap it off, put it down on the counter, farther away from me, and come back to the phone.
“Did you do it?” Marissa asks.
“Yeah,” I respond.
“How do you feel?”
“All the emotions.”
“Tell me what’s your biggest fear.”
“That I’ll crumble,” I admit.
“Then I’ll pick you up.” And that right there is the sole reason she’s my best friend.
“Distract me, please,” I tell her because my heart is racing, and I fear it might leap out of my chest.
“I think Josie might be the one, and I might puke just putting that out in the universe,” she says.
“That’s amazing, Marissa. That’s a huge step.”
“It is. It’s also making me feel like an adult of all things.” And that makes me laugh.
“You’re an attorney. You’ve been an adult for a while.”
“Yeah, well, I think being an attorney always felt like the one thing I’d succeed in, but a relationship never felt manageable for me. Apparently, this is my uphill battle. And it’s working, and I feel like a real adult,” she says, and my heart soars for her.
“I’m happy for you. I really am.”
“Thanks. I’m happy for me too. I’m also quite scared.” She chuckles, and I can sense her nerves. It’s weird to hear her nervous in any way because Marissa exudes confidence in every aspect of her life. I guess this is the one thing she needs to put a little more effort into.
“Is the time up yet?” she asks, and I look at my watch.
“No, but with these, sometimes it will show a faint line. I can just look. Let me grab it,” I say and move to the right to grab the test.
I had put it face down when I brought it to the counter.
I am still not ready to shatter the little bit of a dream I am holding onto, so I drag the test down the counter without flipping it over.
It’s ridiculous to think I am back here, hoping I’m pregnant with such slim chances yet again, but here we are.
I close my eyes and throw my head back. I keep telling myself I’ve made peace with it.
It’s a lie. I know that single line will simply shatter my soul, but like Marissa said, she’ll pick me up.
I’ve seen that single line so many times and survived that outcome each time before. Today is no different. I’m ready.
I put my head back down and flip the test over, and I stare at it. I bring the test closer and blink a few more times. I drop the test and go searching for the box. This must be an ovulation test. I think Rios bought the wrong one. Fucking men.
I find the container and check it. Nope. It says pregnancy on it. Maybe it’s expired.
I flip it around, and it isn’t expired either. What the actual fuck is happening?
“What the hell, Abby? Can you talk to me? Did I lose you? Are you still with me? The suspense! Girl!” she yells.
I can’t find my voice. I’m speechless. This isn’t happening. All those years. All those failed attempts. And now I’m staring at a test, and it’s not one line. It’s two lines.
Two. Dark. Fucking. Lines.