Since I am so traumatic and have had enough of abortions, I took a home pregnancy test after two days of being late, an option which any other girl would find inconceivable, especially if she had no reason to be concerned. And I had no such reason. A woman's period is something which is sometimes late. Minor disruptions are expected in the first period after removing the intrauterine device.
And indeed, the test turned out negative. I was relieved and laughed at myself. What a hysterical person, getting stressed out over a small delay. In a second it will arrive and take with it all these twisted moods, the swelling and exhaustion. But it did not arrive.
It's an illusion, this feeling of having control over something. I knew it, but still I always comforted myself with the thought that certain things do depend on the choices I make. I would at least expect a compensation method for being cautious, using judgment and common sense and doing a lot of research. And if one makes certain not to act foolishly – for example by not using the renowned contraceptive method of "counting days," and even checking the expiry date on the condom pack – one should gain control over unplanned pregnancies. I was mistaken. Of course. Again.
Three days later I took the other test. Simply because it was already here. Simply because you buy them in pairs. I wasn't even stressed out anymore. I did not have the slightest suspicion that it may turn out positive. I urinated on the stick, went to make myself a cup of coffee, and forgot about it. Only half an hour later, when I happened to go into the bathroom, I saw it.
Two lines mean positive? For sure? I was in such a shock that I compared it to the drawing in the instructions five times, expecting to find out that I was wrong. I hoped that I was experiencing an illusion, like when you discover that an earring which fell was in front of your eyes the entire time, only upside down.
My life looks like a joke about rabbitsCrying hysterically, I called my artificial mother. When she heard my voice she was certain that serial rapist Benny Sela escaped again and caught me in the staircase. I did not want to consult, I only wanted to hear friendly voices, so I initiated a conference call with my biological mother in Germany, and I let them talk while drying my nose in desperation, trying to overcome that fact that what happened completely contradicts the logic of modern science.
It is beyond my grasp how millions of people worldwide manage to protect themselves against unwanted pregnancies and sexual diseases transmitted via body fluids with this piece of rubber, while only in my body it encourages an outburst of progesterone.
Fertility is supposed to decrease with age. Especially if one takes into account the accumulation of the damages of smoking, intrauterine devices and two abortions. After abusing myself so much, I naively thought that I was at least half infertile, in the worst-case scenario, and that when I wanted to get pregnant it would be a bit more difficult for me, in the good-case scenario. My life looks like a joke about rabbits, and it was only funny the first two times.
A fraction of a second. That's all you need for your life to fall apart. Nothing more. And contrary to what people usually believe, one does not need more than that in order to make critical decisions. A fraction of a second. Because the decision was already there, waiting.