I've been really busy and sort of distracted - I'm still dealing with that "am I depressed?" question, which must mean I can't be too depressed, otherwise I'd know.

But I'm damn anxious, and I wish I knew how to temper it.

Bah. Hopefully manufactured drama: my period might be late.

I say might be because I never kept track of my cycle for the whole year and a half of celibacy I had after leaving the louse. And while I was with him, I was on the pill, so it was like clockwork for over two years. So I've sort of lost track of what my natural cycle is. So I could have vaguely irregular periods and not really have noticed. (Brian#1 will recognize this: "I didn't notice anything!")

My last period was October 21st, so that's only 33 days. So I'm probably feeling a little panicky for no good reason just yet. This happened to me when I was first sexually active with the louse - it took me a month or two to get on the pill, and I had a late period before hand, and it was nothing. This could very well be nothing.

Goddamn, I sure do hope so.

But I'm still gonna pick up a pregnancy test on my way home tonight. Cause the worry is eating away at me.

I don't think I'm pregnant, maybe just because of wishful thinking and 11 years of successful pregnancy avoidance deluding me into thinking that it would take some more effort to get knocked up.

But other than being a few days late, I'm not having any other symptoms. My breasts are sore (last week at the pool they ached so bad in the cold water I couldn't stay in very long at all), but that happens to me before I get my period all the time. And I'm not the least bit nauseous.

But my god, what would I do if I were pregnant? Of course I can get an abortion, that's always an option, but it's one that weighs heavily on me - I don't think it's something I could do lightly. God knows that babysitting for Kari and Chloe on Saturday tugged at my maternal heartstrings. (How much part of me would love to give those girls a cousin! Pure fantasy, I know it.) And not to mention that I have a dear friend who is struggling with infertility issues - the idea of terminating a pregnancy as if it were a mere inconvenience seems like such a cruel thing when I think of how much she and her husband (and so many people) want a baby.

But hello, Aimee! I'm the one who just commented to someone today that I can't handle the responsibility of dog ownership. Whatever makes me think I could be a mother right now? And hello again - next week makes it only two months that Ben and I have known each other. We don't know each other well enough yet to contemplate having a baby - if he would even want to be involved. And I can't do it alone - or don't want to, at least. And hello, I don't even know the results of the test yet!

I've been working myself up into this frenzy. I need to stop. I need to go home and take that test and take it from there. Deal with reality instead of my feverish imaginings. (I remember one time I came back from my parents' place and I'd been sick with the flu and when I got home I found that Cynthia left me roses and I couldn't find Laika. My immediate reaction: something had happened to Laika while I was away and the roses were to soften the blow. I sobbed intermittently for an hour before Laika came strolling in, just as fine as I'd left her.)