A Special Kind of Purgatory

Lex Jacobson

By: Lex Jacobson

lesbians and power tools

“Are you supposed to use power tools when you’re pregnant, Lex?”

“How else are lesbians supposed to nest?”

This was the conversation between my wife and me this morning as I set up the power saw to do some much-needed work on the house. Can pregnant women do renovations? Of course they can. Would I rather not be outside in the pouring rain, freezing my ass off on (Canadian) Thanksgiving? Yes, but shit needs to get done.

You may be asking something along the lines of “oh my god, are you pregnant?”

My answer? I have no idea.

I really don’t like this part of this TTC process. Many people may think it’s easy to simply take really good care of yourself for two weeks until you know whether you’re pregnant or not, but I find it exhausting. I imagine it is so much easier to drink all of your water, remember all your vitamins, watch what you eat and get enough sleep when you have something inside of you that you can attach to. You’re doing all of these good things for your baby, and your baby is real. For me, I’m doing this for my baby, who may or may not exist.

I have to assume I’m pregnant, but it’s a really tough headspace to be in. Pregnancy, to me, should be celebrated, and I have nothing to celebrate yet. On one hand, I have to tell myself that I’m pregnant so that I can take care of my baby, while on the flip side, I have to remind myself not to get too attached, because if I test at the end of the week and there is no baby, it won’t be such a hard knock.

It’s a bit like reproductive purgatory. I’m stuck in the middle of two completely polar sides. Yes, or no.

Five more days.

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