Disappointment

A few days ago, the DH asked if I was pregnant.

"Why would you say that," I asked, innocently.

"You're getting a little big," he said.

"No, I'm just getting fat," I said. "But thanks for pointing that out."

But that got me to thinking: "I have been putting on a little weight." Of course, I started to see a million hints that I was going to have a baby: peeing all the time; tired a lot; weird leg pains; nausea; vivid dreams, etc. etc.

I really wasn't thinking about being pregnant before that. Though we didn't have any trouble at all with LZ, I have some medical issues that might make it difficult. And, up until a few weeks ago, I was still nursing (I must be the only woman in the world for whom nursing is an effective form of birth control. If I had a dollar for every story I'd heard of someone who was still nursing when she found out she was pregnant, I'd have change for a twenty).

So, although I haven't been expecting to get preggers without outside intervention, I wouldn't be at all unhappy if I did.

The long and short of it is, that offhand comment from the DH led me, over the course of the past couple of days, to convince myself that I must absolutely be pregnant. Yay! Of course, I took the test this morning. Not pregnant. Boo!

So, what it really all boils down to is that I'm getting fat.