If you could get me an empty beach too, that'd be great. I need to hold onto the ... head harness part while I stare into the distance and my hair whips artfully about.

I might need a Stevie Nicks skirt too while I think of it.

Thanks to my awesome counting skillz, and even better remembering-to-enter-things, I forgot to put an end date to my last period on my tracker app. I'm surprised it hadn't auto-dialed me an ambulance by now, as according to it's purple flower, I was on 53rd day of the menses. As I'm not a husk, this was clearly wrong, so I went back to the first day, counted five squares, and retro-entered the proper end date.

You are 6 days late.

Oh.

Uh-oh. I'm on the mini pill, which has a teeny tiny window of Take It Time each day. And I'm not always exactly in that window when I remember to take it, because I am a VIP and shit. And I have had the sexes in the past month (not to show off or anything, but it was twice actually #humblebrag #slutsahoy).

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I told Mr_Beani, and his face fell. I quickly assured him that I probably almost certainly maybe might not be With Child, and that it would be okay. That we would cope, and handle whatever (whoever) happened. He sighed.

Last night I bought some sticks to pee on, and peed on one. And the floor, and the toilet seat, and my hand, and a little bit of the back of my pants. And waited.

I am not having another baby! Phew! I'll graduate with my nursing degree next year as planned! We'll be double income next year! The bathroom can get finished! We don't need to find a hidden extra bedroom (I have oddly specific dreams of this happening)/move! I can start roller derby at the next fresh meat intake! I'm a grown ass woman who takes care of her reproduction and sexy times!

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I am not having another baby. And I probably won't again. No more passenger through the day to day. No more teamwork to get comfortable in the night. No more aching and feeling life in every atom as you PUSH PUSH PUSH until you feel the world crack apart and you fall through to where a new person is placed on your sweat soaked chest, and they paw at the world and cry out at all this sudden space around them, and you look down and say hello with your heart and your eyes and your mouth. A world that moves on around you, but you stay drowsy and milk-drunk with your new love, and hours pass in contemplation of the perfect curl of an ear. I won't have that smell to smell from a head, those snuffling noises, that perfect, tiny being to whom I am everything.

I know there are bigger things and I'm a little melodramatic, and I know it's for the best. I know I know I know. I'm not asking you to cry for me Argentina. I just feel a little bit like I miss 24 hour Imaginary Baby.