What's wrong with my ovaries?

September 8, 2005
Well, I have decided to start a journal cataloging my attempts at becoming a mother. I am five days late. Apparently though, this is not a definite sign of impending motherhood. Apparently, my menstrual cycle is not a good indicator of my fertility, or lack thereof.
I have taken three First Response pregnancy tests in the last five days and they all had the same single pink line result, not pregnant. I really thought I was too. In fact, I can even pinpoint the sexual encounter that should have led to my impregnation.
It was on a Sunday afternoon and as I climaxed I distinctly remember thanking God for my sweet husband and asking him to let us become parents. Then, all of the signs started to miraculously appear. I saw babies everywhere, I started to feel tired and queasy, smells started to really get to me, and I just felt pregnant. Then, my start date came and went, I just knew I was pregnant.
But that damn single pink line is all I can get. So, now here I sit in the park with my dog, Maya, wondering which ovary it is that I broke and why I can’t even seem to menstruate without problems.
Michael claims that in order for a couple to have a baby a couple has to have sex. He seems to think that we don’t have enough sex, maybe he’s right. We somehow manage to squeeze in two or three love fests a week, but I will admit that some weeks go by that we don’t even touch hands much less bump uglies, so maybe we need to be more proactive in the baby making department. He’d like that. Or maybe God is trying to tell us that we don’t need to be parents right now.
I mean, here we are living in NYC in a closet apartment with two too big dogs and a needy cat, where would we even put a baby? Plus, I’m about to start with Song and Michael already worries that he doesn’t make enough money (he does) and I feel like a baby would really freak him out.
I called my sister, Amanda, to ask her opinion on the whole situation. She said I was freaking out way too early, that five days is nothing in the land of women’s problems. She said I should calm down and wait a few days, take the test again, and just try to relax. I don’t have cancer and I’m not dying, or so she said. She was pregnant last June, she had an abortion, so I feel like I can trust her womanly intuition on this matter, and she’s absolutely right. I need to relax.
An old people walking tour just passed by my park bench. It’s funny to watch the tourists ogle over this cesspool. Honestly, you’d think they’d never seen a homeless man curled up on a bench before or a dog shitting on the side walk. “Oh wow! A tree! Can you believe that there is actually a tree growing in Manhattan?!” Idiots.
It’s hot here in the sun. I think I will pack up and take Maya into the dog run, let her snarl at the other dogs. Then it will be time to venture home and greet the beast that is Cirrus and wait for my loving husband to call and tell me that I should meet him to walk him home. I think I’ll cheat and take the bus up to him and then walk back with him. My ever growing ass can’t do 40 blocks today. That’s the other thing, my pants are all tighter yet I’ve been eating less and working out more. What’s up with that?