Some believed that existence itself was an ever-expanding canvas and human lives were merely tiny splashes of colors within a much larger, universal painting, while others saw it as a tapestry with human lives being bits of thread woven to make patterns undecipherable by mortal eyes with limited vision who were only allowed to view the tiniest of portions of the tapestry’s back side. Mayra Critchlow, however, thought of existence as a great tome and a person’s life merely an anthology of stories, not always sequential, that when bound together told a coherent narrative. And her life was about to embark on a new chapter that began with her period being late.
It wasn’t earth-shattering news or even that big a surprise since Mayra had always been what her mother called a natural born stresser. Even before she knew how to communicate effectively, she made a habit of sweating the small stuff and when she hit puberty stress carried in tow a condition known as secondary amenorrhea. Her reproductive system was affected by high levels of anxiety which caused her monthlies to temporarily stop. This time, though, it felt one hundred and fifty percent completely different and she suspected something wasn’t quite right after her friend (what a stupid term of endearment for menstruation) was two weeks late. The lead up remained the same, days before her mood soured, she turned grumpy, her chin broke out and her stomach ached constantly but Mayra became concerned when it stopped as quickly as it began. All the symptoms simply vanished. The next logical solution was pregnancy but she couldn’t have been pregnant because of the Nexplanon implant and her boyfriend Gavin wore condoms for extra protection every single time they had been together, which was less often in the past few months.
A Google search of Why is my period so late? inevitably led her to six other reasons her cycle might be a bit wonky. Among the options were major weight loss or excessive exercise—neither of which were the case, a thyroid irregularity, Polycystic ovary symptom, Chronic diseases like Celiac, low dose birth control, and premature menopause. Needless to say, she was not a fan of any of those choices.
Another website suggested waiting ten days after her cycle and taking a pregnancy test even if conception was used. So, Mayra tamped down the panic of possibly having a chronic disease, hormone imbalance, or failing ovaries and snuck out of work the following day before her lunch break and bought a pregnancy test. She decided not to grab one at home because Gavin was there and if she popped out to the store after they had just gone shopping, it would have raised a red flag. And then there would have been the sneaking of the test into the house and bald-faced lying to him if he inquired what she went to the store to pick up. It all seemed silly but she decided to go the easy route and not make a thing out of something that didn’t need to be a thing.
Mayra was tempted to take the test in the restroom at work but as she stepped into the stall she considered if that was the memory she wanted to keep if the result was somehow positive? Would it have been disrespectful to Gavin and even more so to the baby? Besides, if the test was positive, there was no way she could have concentrated on work and she would waste most of the afternoon on the phone with Bethany, doing the whole talking in code thing, which might have been fun but it would have been frustrating as well.
Exhausting just about every last drop of self-control she had, Mayra managed to wait until she arrived home and made a beeline to the bathroom, pecking Gavin on the cheek as she sped past. She never experienced a longer five minutes in her entire life and after the stick delivered its answer she paced the tiny bathroom space in a daze not quite able to handle it. There was a part of her that was tempted to go back to the pharmacy and buy one of each different test brand they had, as if she could get some cosmic do over.
She stuffed the pregnancy test and packaging in her purse—no sense in him spotting it in the trash before she had the chance to tell him—and opened the bathroom door. Gavin was right there in the doorway, rushing past her, undoing his belt buckle.
“What the hell were you doing in here so long” he asked, shoving his boxers and pants around his ankles before plopping down on the toilet. “I need to take a killer dump!”
She stared into his eyes, searching for what she did not know, but she knew she hadn’t found it and all of the courage suddenly drained from her.
“Uh… a little privacy here?” Gavin gestured for her to shut the door. “Unless you’ve developed a scat fetish?”
There was no way they would be having the pregnancy discussion today.
To Be Continued…
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