The halls of my apartment building have become silent and awkward. There is no sticking heads out of doors to scare neighbors, no rushing up and down the hallway half-dressed, and everyone on our floor walks around like the floor is made of bubble wrap and a baby is sleeping. Wonder why everything’s not hunky dorry with a cherry on top?

Scott and I had a colossal monstrosity of a fight. The day after my last post, I had a life-changing scare. I was about half a week late. Let me tell you (if you don’t already know- but I think you understand) for a non-married, full-time working, always-on-go, businesswoman to be late… all hell will break loose at her abode. I freaked the fuck out on a major scale, much to the entertainment of Scott, until he realized how serious I was. He got all compassionate-boyfriend on me, but I wasn’t having it. I locked myself in the bedroom for about a day and a half, and the man stayed by the door almost the entire time. (it’s a good thing for me that my bedroom is connected to the bathroom I guess)

When I finally came out of the bedroom, he shoved a bowl of soup and a peanut butter sandwich into my hands and talked while I ate. I was listening very calmly to what he was saying until he smiled and grabbed my hand. I flinched and watched as his face fell. It felt like all this was happening to someone else and I was watching from the audience with my hands covering my face, fingers spread just enough to barely see the horror unfold. He got up and said, “When the thought of having a baby with me doesn’t make you wince and go crazy, let me know.”

I was left alone with a bowl of homemade soup that was suddenly a boulder in my stomach. So, I turned off everything in the apartment  and went back to bed where I lay there until… can you guess? Yup. I had just woken from the most restless and unfulfilling sleep when I felt the beginnings of cramps. I know this is extremely personal, but I have always had, and probably always will experience, the worst cramps before that time comes. I could’ve bashed my head in. You’d think I’d be happy, and I am, but I think I finally pushed too hard for Brick Wall Scott to bear the load.

I went next door to tell him, nasty hair, rumpled clothes and everything and he looked at me and said, “That’s good for you,” and shut the door. I cleaned up in a daze, went to work in a daze, and came home to Scott on my couch… fuming. He shouted quite a bit, let me shout back, and then we called truce and ate take-out Mexican together. We seem to have forgiven each other for the shouting, but I’m still shaken up from the flood- no tsunami- of feelings that went through me when I thought I was pregnant. I won’t let him touch me right now, but we’re both content with sitting as close to the edge of the couch as possible and sleeping at our own apartments for a while.

I had a comment from a reader that asked me if I was real.    I laughed so hard when I read it because I have similar feelings! Alas, I wish I could’ve made up some of the past 5 months, but I didn’t. One thing after another, piling onto my plate. Good thing I’m made of good old redneck genes with a plate decorated with a rebel flag and my never-used college degree. lol

Things will turn out all right, I think. Oh God, I hope I haven’t ruined things with Bubby!