I am always late, to the point I don't even keep track anymore. I consider it a little treat to remind me my family of five kids will always be. I know it is bazaar to throw a party for a massacre of women parts shedding, but I do. I celebrate with a big ass bottle of wine, every time.
My two best friends and I know more about each other's cycles and sex lives than what should be filed under normal. They are like my sisters, except we don't fight and we all have the ability to say it how it is and take it like it should be, with a laugh and an apology. I don't do that women drama, and neither do they. And they get along too, which is perfect. So my friend, we will call her S, asked if I started yet. I told her no, and she informed me that she already had so mine was coming up. She is good like that. I was texting her since she had some family drama and was upset. All of a sudden I felt so sick I couldn't move. I texted "shit just got real", she said go get a test she will be there in a little bit.
I went to the store, lying to my kids that I needed a minute alone and had to get Advil. I don't take Advil, or anything else. But they believed it. I sat in the parking lot for 20 minutes googling every possible scenario other than a kid.
PCOS- it doesn't sound like a vacation and I like my hair but I am good without a mustache.
Thyroid- explains the weight gain over the past year. Pills are easy to swallow.
Obesity- hmmm. maybe in 30 more pounds
Endrometriosis- well my mom had to get a hysterectomy five years from my age right now, possible
Menopause- if it didn't come with hot flashes and other unsavory things I would sign up.
It is not that I don't want a baby. I like my kids, I'm not going to lie it took a minute but we are good now. I don't want to go to the Dr. I know it sounds stupid but over the last 4 years I have had a couple miscarriages and a boob scare. I just want to leave well enough alone and enjoy the fact that my last child is 4. A big kid. A big fun kid.
The fact that my 30th birthday was going to be a huge ass party. And I was on the path of skinny, not a beer bellied-sweat pant-oversized shirt wearing freak. I've pushed enough things out of my vagina, clearly we don't need to overstep to Grand Central Station. I don't want to be a fetal pez dispenser. All of that was putting me in panic attack mode.
I gathered my stones and walked in. Of course I knew 3 people in the store. I walked around like a shoplifter looking at items until they left. I got it and threw the box in the trashcan there. We don't need kids seeing that, kids talk. Mainly about the types of shit you want left behind closed doors.
I got home, poured myself a glass of wine and hoped for food poisoning, at least I could crap out those last 7 pounds. My friend got there and we went to my bathroom I peed, handed it to her and didn't want to know. There is no other time in your life that you need a drink more than the two minutes after you pee on that stick. I strung so many f words together I should have won an award or had a spot on Ripley's Believe it or Not. I'm thinking I can't be grouped with the Grey baby freaks. I do need a C name but under no circumstance will it be named Christian. I have plenty of cellulite and stretch marks to cover a third world country, I don't need more.
Maybe I could buy a baby. I'm sure there is a crack addict out there somewhere who would sell off their kid for money. It's not that I would mind another kid, it's the getting there part. I have narrowly escaped hemorrhoids and c- sections, must I really play WPSE roulette again? If you want to be in the know, WPSE is worst pregnancy symptoms ever. Maybe I was overreacting? But...
To answer Where's the party?... It's in my uterus.
My other friend came over, freaked a little too. Do you know what they did? They cleaned my house. I am not lying when I say I have the best friends anyone can ask for. They are my bitches.
So I had to tell the Hubs, this could be ok or get ugly, I wasn't sure. I told him, he gave me a high five and told me good job... I guess that is what people do on the 6th kid? Maybe he read it somewhere....
And FYI, I am not putting this on my blog. My family apparently reads it because my little redneck wedding recap caused a little bit of a riot. So we are not speaking, horrible to say but I am fine with that. I don't want to hear the shit they say about another kid. You should have heard what was said when I announced the tie-breaker, number 5. So shhhhh...
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