M finally confessed to me yesterday. I confronted him about one of his “…because you’re pregnant” comments. He finally admitted that he didn’t really think I was. He was trying to convince me he thought I was (perhaps trying to convince me to think the same) so that when I finally started, he could say, “See, I told you you weren’t pregnant!”
It was all an elaborate set-up for a lame joke.
He gave up when I didn’t start a few days after we thought I would. I think he’d given up that I would ever start again. So he told me it was a joke.
The joke’s on him, though. Last night shortly after he fell asleep, I started.
That settles that. I am most certainly not pregnant right now. Talk about timing, though. In a week when this period ends, my birth control will be gone. Oddly enough, the birth control also runs out on PJ’s first birthday. M had said months ago when baby fever hit bad that we would start trying for another one when he turned one. I don’t know he meant that exact day, but I’m not going to argue that that’s how everything worked out.
But I keep reminding myself that we’re not officially trying; we’re just not not trying anymore. Semantics…