I didn't sleep well last night. Monkey crawled into bed with us at some point, which she hasn't done in a while. It took me a while to wake up enough to understand what was going on and to get JD to take her back to her own bed. After that I had bad dreams. The last one, right before waking up, was not about pregnancy, but about being alone-- there was supposed to be a wedding (not clear whether mine or someone's close to me), and lots of things were going wrong, and then it was off. And then I think JD was there asking me to go somewhere with him, but I was really upset, and said that everyone should leave me alone, I want to be alone. Which I both did and did not want. I woke up just then, and marched into the bathroom grumpy because I pretty much knew what the test was going to show-- I was alone.
I haven't cried yet. I have just been glum and frustrated. I went shopping for the supplies to cook the dinner tonight, and oddly, I felt the tears coming on when I was driving home and heard an interview on the radio with a self-described "child of the Challenger generation" on her novel about the same subject and yesterday's safe return of the shuttle with the first ever educator in space, who was, 21 years ago, the double of Christa McAuliffe, the teacher who never made it. I don't know what that was about, but I didn't think it would be helpful to cry while driving (not that I hadn't done that before or anything), so I managed to block it then. But I think at some point today I need to cry. Maybe with the margaritas.