You folks may remember from last time I had a surprise baby that I always think I'm pregnant. A little more thirsty than usual? I'm pregnant. I dropped something 46 times today instead of 45? Pregnant. Suddenly not a big fan of chicken? KNOCKED. UP. You hussy. Don't you know how that happens?
But I got over it, because, hey, protection and nursing and all that. But then? Then I found out I was RIGHT to be paranoid. Do you know what that does to a person's head?
People, I love babies. But a third right now would probably kill me. Don't misunderstand; I would grow to love that baby, but it would take... a while.
I have been convinced I was pregnant at least fifteen times since I had Emmy. This last time, I was so sure of it that I took three pregnancy tests in four days. That was a few days ago. When people jokingly say things like, "Maybe you're pregnant!" I don't say, "Hahahah." I say, "WHAT? WHY DO YOU SAY THAT? DO YOU KNOW SOMETHING I DON'T?" And then I go cry. Or punch the person. Or throw up.
It's not paranoia if you're right, right? And if it's happened once, not only CAN it happen again, but it probably WILL. Which is why I'm joining a nunnery.