| "From Positive Test to Empty Nest" |
| Chapter 1: A Positive Test is Just the Beginning ≈ I was late to class…again. Running up the steep slopes of the Hayward State Campus in sunny Northern California, I was wondering if ever in my life I would be on time. Of course it would help considerably if my next class Chemistry wasn’t on the third floor of the building and up the largest hill from my Anthropology class. Plus, I had another little thing on my mind. I was late. We already established that I was late to class. No, I was late, late. The kind of late that strikes fear in the heart of every female college student, late. Except for this female college student, there was absolutely no fear to be found here. I so wanted to be late. My fiancée conveniently also wanted me to be late. (He wanted four! I secretly thought he was a couple cards short of a full deck.) So after my delightfully educational dive into the inner workings of my worst subject, Chemistry, I decided to visit the campus clinic. With chemical equations and periodic charts swimming through my head I amazingly manage to find the clinic. It was shrouded in trees with their sign half hidden from view, looking so worn down I half expected to find a condemned sign on the door. Thank goodness I didn’t make an appointment, or of course, I would have been late. Upon arrival at the clinic I was given a warm greeting by a young student nurse. She smiled sweetly while I quietly informed her of my possible predicament. She nodded her head and discreetly handed me a little plastic cup, all the while quietly explaining to me what I was to do with said cup. She wanted me to do what with that little thing? Disgusting! I liked the nice warm greeting but I was more than a bit afraid of the task ahead. Exactly how was I supposed to get any of my bodily fluids into this dinky little excuse for a cup? For those of you who have not had the delightful experience of prehistoric pregnancy tests, I will give you an example of the size of cup I am talking about here. You know those liquid cough syrups we all have in our medicine cabinets? Well, the itty bitty plastic cup that you would use to dispense about three or four teaspoons of that liquid cough syrup is approximately the size of the container that I was expected to use to catch my released bodily fluids. I mentally give myself a boost repeating I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. With a somewhat twisted rendition of the Mission Impossible theme playing in my head I proceed down the long hallway with cup in hand to the ladies restroom. Once in the privacy of my own bathroom stall, I stare at phone numbers scratched into the paint guaranteeing a good time if called. Thinking to myself, seriously now, would I be in this stall if I hadn’t already had a good time? No harm in penciling down a couple numbers for my girlfriends though. It is here that I start to devise a plan. I will hover! That’s it, that’s my big plan…hover. Meaning, not sitting for fear of contracting some horrible disease your mother had convinced you existed on all public toilet seats. Not to mention the bacteria just waiting to jump on to any unsuspecting bum. With the jumping bacteria thought bouncing around in my head I exercised all the balancing skill I possessed, hovered and took aim. I am using the word “aim” very loosely here because I managed to hit everything but the cup! Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, was spared my feeble attempt at precision aim. Eventually, with approximately two whole teaspoons of urine in the minuscule cup, I thought I had accomplished a minor miracle. After scrubbing my hands repeatedly I came out of the bathroom proudly displaying my incredible achievement much to the dismay of the nurse. She looked at me and said, “Is that all?” Evidently, a small field mouse can excrete more urine than I. She then told me to drink a full glass of water, sit in the waiting room for twenty or thirty minutes and try again. You have got to be kidding me! I all but pleaded for a bigger container and one more chance. I was treated to a small condescending smile from the student nurse who obviously never had the wonderful experience of attempting to utilize one of these torture devices, told to drink, sit down and wait. Thirty excruciating minutes go by and I am allowed to attempt this humiliating episode again. Lucky me. However, I am thirty minutes older and thirty minutes wiser by now. So with me being the ever enterprising young student, I grab a Styrofoam cup from the coffee stand and head into the bathroom at break neck speed. Low and behold, I manage to fill the whole darn thing. I carefully pour the contents from my trusty Styrofoam cup into the sub-standard clinic issued cup and proudly turn it into a very amazed nurse. From this small experience alone, I’m fairly certain that nursing is not in my future. Within thirty minutes I am called into the doctor’s office. I am met with a very grim looking man. This doctor looks as if he’s about to tell me I have some unknown strain of incurable cancer. Instead, he somberly informs me that my pregnancy test has come back positive. Apparently in his mind a deathly blow. I jump from my chair crying and lunge into his arms. He thinks I’m absolutely devastated. Silly doctor. I assure him that I am not distraught by any means, but that I am completely beside myself with joy. It is the most incredible moment of my life! I am carrying a child. Me, the only woman on earth ever to conceive! At least it felt that way. Next I’m hit with a mental brick. A child! Oh my! I will need to slow down, no more late nights with my college buddies, hang gliding dreams out the window, immortality gone. Smoking…out! Drinking…out! Sex? I’ll have to ask the doctor about that one. I need to be left with at least one vice. Good-bye college hello motherhood! |