Test after test after test…
We went to Prince Edward Island for the week with our straight friends Joel and Jen. Given that we took pregnancy tests every morning, we let them in on our secret rather than let them find out by glancing into the bathroom wastebasket. Every morning was the same – wake up to the beautiful sun and soft breeze floating through the bedroom window. The wife would get up, pee on a stick, hand me the test, and roll back to sleep. Two minutes later, I’d toss the evil piece of plastic into the trash can, mutter a few curse words, and drift back to sleep with her.
None of us could understand why the tests were lying to us. It was quite clear to Jen and me that the wife was pregnant. Her breasts seemed swollen. She was peeing every hour. She kept taking naps. The real clincher was when we walked into an ice-cream shop and she suddenly felt sick from the smell and had to leave. My wife is a connoisseur of ice cream. I just knew this sudden aversion to one of her favorite foods was a sign of the embryo implanting itself in her womb.
When we arrived home Saturday night, I spent hours on the Internet reading about false negatives. Though my hope that she is pregnant is quickly fading, a part of me can’t let go. We decide to take one more test on Sunday morning.
