Some heavy stuff is going on and I have not told a soul about it, except for my husband, and I guess I just want to confide in the comfort of the Jezebel commentariat.
I might be pregnant. And this isn't a good thing. I'm two weeks late, and my periods are usually like clockwork. I've taken two pregnancy tests but they both came up negative, so I'm not really sure what's going on there. I made an appointment for Wednesday to be sure. Maybe it's just a fluke and I'm skipping a period? Which has never happened to me before, but I know it's possible. Or it could be something else altogether.
I'm more or less really stressed out about it. I don't want kids right now. Mr Writer and I have discussed this in depth a few times, more so this past weekend about what we would do if I am pregnant. And honestly, I think I've finally come to terms with the fact that I just don't want a baby right now. I can't. Emotionally, mentally, physically, financially, everything. Mr Writer really wants kids, and he's more than willing to just jump into this, ready or not. I would have liked to be a little more prepared. Of course I would like to be more prepared, why wouldn't I? Bless him for wanting to try to make it work, and I love him for that, but I'm tired of struggling from paycheck to paycheck, and a baby right now would be such a financial burden. It sounds so crass, but I want to be able to provide for my family fully, not half-ass it and just get by.
But when it comes down to it, I would have the baby for him. Somehow that just doesn't seem like enough. It also sounds incredibly selfish. I'm so conflicted about this whole situation. We've had really healthy discussions about this the past week, which I am so thankful for. I guess I'll find out Wednesday and go from there. Sigh...