There I sit, staring at the stick that determines my destiny, pants scrunched at my ankles, elbows resting on my knees.
My mind begins to drift, but is suddenly brought back to reality. “Honey, what are you doing in there?” (My husband is now concerned because I never close the door when I pee. We have a bathroom right off of our bedroom. That’s private enough isn’t it? My husband begs to differ.)
“I’m taking a pregnancy test.”