You know it’s May when half the female characters on television get knocked up…or think they are. Bwahahaha.  Sweeps and cliffhangers to herald in summertime fun.

I have my own cliffhanger every month of late. (Excuse that pun. Trust me, it’s a pun. Read on to find out…if you dare.)

The last four or five months I have been absolutely convinced I am pregnant for about a week out of the month.  My body is shooting off all sorts of signals that go way above and beyond normal PMS. I am nauseated, achy, exhausted, and my temperature jumps up significantly.

(Why am I temping, you ask? Hope, desperation, boredom…pick one.)

The lame game of Could I Be? is a small glimmer of excitement in between my usual glamorous activities of wiping noses and going to Costco. Alas, if only Costco sold tests in bulk. I am testing like crazy these days. Chain-testing. Nervously huddled in my bathroom, already planning my next test. Hoping I don’t smell like pee. I am hyper-aware of every twinge, tingle, and zap in my nether regions.

Obviously, my tests have been and continue to be negative. We’re using birth control, although not a method that is as effective as the pill….my newfound PMS symptoms are, most likely, a sign of one of two things: my fibroids are back on attack or my Baby Fever is bigger, better, and is exacerbated by a few things.

I have written here about my desire for child #3. But I’m getting towards the top of the hill. I’m 38-and-a-half. That half starts to matter. I was considered a (medically) geriatric pregnancy last time, so this would inch me towards Biblical age. My kids are great, I enjoy motherhood, and I loved loved loved being pregnant.

Motherhood and I dance together pretty well.

The Daddy dances pretty well, too, but he’s just not into having another one, as I’ve mentioned. I respect that and remember that this is not television. There will be no oopsies, there will be no trickery.

In quieter moments, I also know that some (not much, but some) of this feeling comes from feeling lost. For the first time in three years, I am not actively working on or in a production. I have always loved the act of creation in one form or another…and theater distracted me for a long while from wanting another nose to wipe.

Also, I feel old these days. Being pregnant makes me feel young. I’m grasping desperately at youth while trying to claw away my wrinkles, age spots, and fogeydom.

So I play this game with myself every month lately. I ignore the multiple negative tests and dream my little dreamy thoughts. Then I hit about day 28 and start all over again, a little less hopeful.

I know the game will end soon enough.

It’s like having my own personal Neilsen sweeps every month.

Maybe my uterus will start bring back Kings. I liked that show.