A "maybe" is worse than a "no."

Here is something I did not know: an unequivocal negative is easier than an ambiguous positive.

To women who've never had a positive pregnancy test, that will seem like the rankest heresy. In unison: "At least you know you can get pregnant."

Now let's try it in a round, to the tune of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."

Great! Next let's break it down old skool-stylee.

Wait, that last was a really bad idea.

The truth is that I do have the knowledge that I can get pregnant, but it's not the comfort you might think it is, because I also have the knowledge that I can lose it. I can be happy, the happiest I've been in my life — and that happiness can be yanked away unceremoniously in the space of thirty seconds.

(Perhaps it's crass of me to mention money, but I must point out that it particularly stings when you spend $11,000 getting happy...and they still charge you a co-pay when that happiness is shattered. My most recent D&C cost me more than a live birth would have. But I'm not bitter.)

It's oddly soothing to know that's not at stake this time. This time, I can go on a valedictory vodka bender, cry until I look like Marty Feldman, and know it's over. Then, somehow, I'll just manage to scrape myself off the floor to pursue plan B.

Posted by Julie at 08:14:48 AM in I've learned a lot...but I'm not sure it's worth it., Welcome to the bad place. Population: You

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A "maybe" is worse than a "no."

Here is something I did not know: an unequivocal negative is easier than an ambiguous positive.

To women who've never had a positive pregnancy test, that will seem like the rankest heresy. In unison: "At least you know you can get pregnant."

Now let's try it in a round, to the tune of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."

Great! Next let's break it down old skool-stylee.

Wait, that last was a really bad idea.

The truth is that I do have the knowledge that I can get pregnant, but it's not the comfort you might think it is, because I also have the knowledge that I can lose it. I can be happy, the happiest I've been in my life — and that happiness can be yanked away unceremoniously in the space of thirty seconds.

(Perhaps it's crass of me to mention money, but I must point out that it particularly stings when you spend $11,000 getting happy...and they still charge you a co-pay when that happiness is shattered. My most recent D&C cost me more than a live birth would have. But I'm not bitter.)

It's oddly soothing to know that's not at stake this time. This time, I can go on a valedictory vodka bender, cry until I look like Marty Feldman, and know it's over. Then, somehow, I'll just manage to scrape myself off the floor to pursue plan B.