August 2009: Baby Time?

OK, I am kind of a hypochondriac. I think it’s because when I grew up my mom was always telling me that things would give me cancer. Come to think of it, she still is. Just a few weeks ago I was sitting on her deck reading “InStyle” on a relaxing Saturday afternoon as I waited on her to get ready and she screamed from her bedroom window, which overlooks the back deck of her townhouse “CANCER! THE SUN IS BAD!” Looking back on the fact - I realize why I have analyzed every mole since I was 11, avoided microwaves and had a fear of cell phones until I was 20.

Last week it was not so much a cancer scare for once – I decided I was pregnant. Even though my friends assured me I was not (what do THEY know??), I thought it was time to take a test. I had to go to the store regardless to get stuff for dinner so it was not inconvenient or anything to pick one up. Along with sex comes a host of things that can be scary, especially for a hypochondriac such as myself: Diseases. Babies. Yes, EVEN CANCER.

I made a list before I went to the store:
1) Steak
2) Sweet potatoes
3) HPT
4) Wine

HPT = Home Pregnancy Test. Is it weird that anytime I have to buy something even remotely embarrassing at the store I abbreviate what it is just in case someone else sees it?

So I get all the things on my list and then covertly walk over to the HPT aisle. I casually begin scanning the tests. Of course everything in that section is pretty embarrassing so regardless of if I tried to make it look like I was involved in a causal lube purchase or getting an HPT, there would still be judgment. There are so many tests – which one do I get!? I was deciding between a mid-priced one and one that was hot pink with directions in Spanish for $8.00. Why is it that no friends write back to you when you are making important decisions!? I concluded that this probably was not the time to cheap out and I picked a test.

Now on to the wine section! I did not even think about the implications of perusing the wine aisles with a pregnancy test in my cart. (It was for celebration in case I wasn’t!) – I also had put some beer in the cart for my boyfriend, Todd, and found some special beer we had tried at a beer festival (also in cart next to test).

Then a man stops me and asks, “Would you like to do some wine tasting?”… My natural response was “YES, I was just about to make an alcohol decision actually!” - I love it when they do wine tastings at the grocery store. It is like a little haven amidst the chaos of babies and mothers barreling around picking out groceries and stressed out men who are clearly in trouble with their wives buying flowers and wine. Don’t even get me started on the kid sized carts they offer for children to drive. Those things are dangerous. An oasis of wine is just what I need!

The woman next to me smiles a friendly smile as the man fills up my tiny cup of wine. And then I see her eyes shift to the cart. Shit! The pregnancy test is practically glowing on top of my groceries. What do I do?? I could tell her it was for my sister – it’s not for me. Or tell her that I did not even think I was pregnant; I am just doing it for good measure. I fumble around and try to put the steaks over the test – I also dropped a thing of mushrooms and had to chase them across the floor. People began to crowd around the wine tasting. This is ridiculous, there was ONE woman here when I came up and now I am totally surrounded. I have to get out. I have the man pour the tiny wine pours as fast as he can and I throw them back like shots. When he gives me a quizzical look – I smile at him and beam “I was in a sorority,” this excuse works well for everything. All this and I am considering the impacts of the tiny wine shots if I really am pregnant. Don’t they say it’s okay to have a glass of red wine a day? Wait, maybe that is for your heart?!?! I don’t know!!!

I rushed out of the store and ran home straight to the bathroom. I had to make sure I was not going to cause Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. That SECOND, I got my monthly visitor. Of course.

It’s pretty safe to say that if hypochondria can set in about my unborn theoretical baby, my mom did her job well. Thanks, Mom. When I really am pregnant you will have to deal with the repercussions of daily questions.