TW: Pregnancy Loss (some studies suggest trigger warnings aren’t helpful, but I personally find them helpful so I’ll be trying to remember to use them)

Last week, I opened a new Listerine. I put some in my mouth then tried to fit the bottle into my drawer in my bathroom. It wasn’t fitting. As I was gargling the super minty concoction, I started fiddling around with everything in the drawer to fit it in and that’s when I saw them: two pregnancy tests in the back of the drawer staring at me in the face. I nearly swallowed the Listerine. I almost took the tests out and put them directly in the trash but something stopped me dead in my tracks. I looked at the expiration dates: 12/23. Would throwing them out mean I for sure wouldn’t be pregnant again before the end of the year? Do I even want to be pregnant by the end of the year? Will throwing them out somehow tell the universe I don’t ever want to be pregnant again? Are my thoughts that powerful? I fit the Listerine snugly into the drawer and closed it without doing anything with the tests. As I write this, those tests are still in the back of that drawer. But closing that drawer hasn’t made me stop thinking about those tests. Every time I wash my hands, I know they’re in that drawer, waiting to be used, or waiting to not be used as time continues to march on and that expiration date comes and goes.

Meanwhile, I can’t stop thinking about superstitions and ultimately that’s what drew me back to the blog. Everyone has superstitions, or at least I used to think people did. I never considered myself a very superstitious person, but as I take stock of my life, I’m realizing maybe I have been. The stakes were so much lower before, so I never took my thoughts too seriously. Growing up, I remember jumping over cracks in the sidewalk to avoid “breaking my mother’s back.” But that was just a childhood game, right? Maybe. In college and in the years after, I had this orange and blue underwear set I had to wear when the Gators played a football game. I didn’t necessarily think that I CAUSED them to win if I wore them, but I figured, “it’s worked before, it can’t hurt!” Just last year, the Miami Heat lost in a playoff game to the Celtics on my birthday. I remember exactly what outfit I was wearing. Again, this year they faced off against the Celtics in the playoffs on my birthday and I made sure not to wear that same jersey. But I didn’t think it would necessarily be my FAULT if they lost, they were coming off 3 losses and I was convinced it was their fault if they lost again. They deserved it! But if I could do this one small thing to help them by wearing something else, why not? And guess what, they won.

According to Merriam-Webster, a superstition is a belief or practice resulting from fear of the unknown, trust in magic or chance, or a false conception of causation. I was recently talking about my superstitions with my husband, and he said he just called these things “quirks.” My therapist, on the other hand, called them “physical manifestations of my anxiety.” Maybe all of those things are right. I told my therapist that rationally, I understand I’m not causing anything to happen, but it’s nice to feel I have some sense of control in a world that is so completely out of my control. I think she was proud of me for this insight, but I don’t think she would be proud of me if I told her I for sure would not be throwing those pregnancy tests out any time soon (or ever) JUST IN CASE. Why anger the universe when I can just keep them safely tucked into the back of my bathroom drawer, collecting dust until they expire?

Those pregnancy tests require a bit of a back story. When I got pregnant, I was thrilled and surprised. Could it be this easy? My best friend was pregnant and we were going to have babies so close together! It was a dream. With the advent of social media and people being open about fertility struggles, I was well aware that conception was not as easy as the movies make it out to be. Having sex does not equal pregnancy. I knew too many people who struggled to get pregnant. But maybe I was a lucky one and it was easy for me! Three weeks after that thought, I was shoved back down to reality when my best friend lost her pregnancy. From that moment on, I became more realistic about the possible outcomes.

At that time, I called myself “realistic,” but what I realize now is it was extreme anxiety. I was convinced something would happen to my pregnancy, too. It’s one of the reasons I never wrote about it on my blog! At my first doctor’s appointment, I made my husband come with me and I remember looking at my Fitbit and seeing my heart rate was 120 bpm. Literally double my resting heart rate. And that anxiety never fully quieted. I made my husband come to every single appointment.

Most people announce their pregnancies around 12 weeks because they are “out of the miscarriage window.” I never felt comfortable announcing. I was sure something would happen. I remember we finally decided to tell my parents at Thanksgiving, and we wanted to give them something cute as part of the reveal. But my 12-week ultrasound wasn’t until 5 days before we were going to see them. I wanted to buy something unique from Etsy, but I was way too superstitious to buy anything in advance of that appointment. What if, by buying those things in advance, I would cause something to happen and then I’d have those items in my house with no baby to announce? I waited until the appointment went well, then I ordered something kitschy and dumb on Amazon Prime to arrive the day before we left. But even after we announced to my parents, my superstition was high. We took photos together, and my mom wanted to post them on Facebook. I told her absolutely not. What if something went wrong? We couldn’t tempt fate. We couldn’t taunt the universe. What if we had to UN-announce? I couldn’t bear to think about it.

I was with Chris’s entire family for Christmas on December 21 when my phone started blowing up. My mom had posted about us being pregnant on Facebook. By that point I was 16 weeks pregnant and we should have been in the clear! But I was angry at her and nervous. Now everyone knew and what if we weren’t in the clear. I walked outside to call her. It was a frigid 9 degrees in Atlanta, but I needed to step away from Chris’s family. My mom explained that she had forgotten that I told her not to post about it and was just excited. She said she hadn’t tagged me, so it would be ok. She offered to take the post down. But it already had so many likes, so many eyes on it, everyone had seen. And more importantly, the UNIVERSE KNEW. We were too excited. Unrightfully so. I told my mom it was too late. I couldn’t figure out how to explain why I was so nervous. Most people would have been so happy! I wouldn’t let myself get too excited. In my rational mind, of course I know the Facebook announcement didn’t cause any of the events to come, but in that moment my superstitions took over.

I had made contingency plans for myself. The weekend before I found out I was pregnant I had two friends over to watch the new Hocus Pocus. Being the basic b*tch I am, I am obsessed with everything pumpkin so I had gone all out. I bought 5 different kinds of alcoholic pumpkin cider, I had ten different kinds of pumpkin flavored sweets. A few days later when I found out I was pregnant, I posted all of the leftover pumpkin cider on Buy Nothing to give away. At the last minute, I decided to keep two cans of my favorite cider. I figured since it was a seasonal cider, if I lost my pregnancy I’d want some sort of consolation prize and by then the cider wouldn’t be in stores anymore because it would be winter. How hilarious that I thought 2 cans of my favorite cider would be enough to make me feel better if I lost my baby LOLOLOLOL.

For months and months of doctor appointments, those ciders stayed in my fridge. The outside of the door of the fridge started filling up with ultrasound photos. The entire door was plastered with our baby at 6 weeks. 8 weeks. 12 weeks. 16 weeks. 18 weeks. 20 weeks. 24 weeks. And still, inside that same fridge door, those ciders sat on the bottom shelf  “just in case.” Around 20 weeks, I started to convince myself I wouldn’t be drinking them until they were expired and I had a living baby in my arms. But despite the expiration date, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out. What would that mean? Would I be tempting fate? What if I still needed them?

When I was in the hospital, I had so much support from family. My sister was with me the whole time and my mom drove in from Philly. All of Chris’s siblings flew up to NYC to be with me. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. When I found out I’d maybe be discharged, Chris’s family mobilized and went back to our apartment to cook for us so we’d have fresh, home-cooked food. Not only did we not have groceries, but I hadn’t been allowed to eat in nearly a week. I remember the full-body sense of relief coming home. I remember sinking into the couch and being so thankful it wasn’t a hospital bed. And then I slightly remember seeing Chris’s little sister drinking one of my two contingency pumpkin ciders at the table. I had been on a lot of drugs for a very long time, so it didn’t totally register at the time. A few days later when I opened my fridge and saw only one cider there it hit me.

I told Chris about my secret superstitious ciders and he asked me if I was upset that one was gone. I wasn’t. Who was I kidding that a cider would make me feel better? Nothing could make me feel better! My whole world had fallen apart and the last thing I wanted to do was drink something alcoholic to remind myself of everything I didn’t have. Alcohol was a reminder of everything I had given up for six months just for it to be taken away.

Four and a half months later, that one single pumpkin cider is still in my fridge. What would happen if I drank it? What would happen if I threw it out? Would the world be mad at me? Would I never get pregnant again? What if I need to do IVF? Would it affect my egg count? Will we get denied for adoption? Surrogacy?

Do I actually think my drinking habits have anything to do with any of those things? No. I don’t. When I’m in my most rational state of mind, I realize nothing has anything to do with anything. The world is random. I was unlucky. Every doctor says what happened was “so rare and unlikely.” They say there is no explanation. There was no known cause. Did saving those two ciders have anything to do with it? Absolutely not. Will drinking that single cider that’s still in the fridge affect any future events? Also no.

Recently, I think my superstitions/anxiety relating to other people and pregnancy has become worse. Last weekend, Chris’s friend had a baby shower. There were many reasons I didn’t feel I could go, but one (maybe abnormal) reason was fear. I was nervous that my presence alone would somehow trigger the universe’s wrath and make something bad happen to his friend. Two weekends ago, my best friend, who is pregnant again, was in town and I had the exact same feeling. I wanted to go see her, but I had to call in advance to warn her. I said, “if you think that my presence will in any way jinx you, please tell me and I promise I won’t be offended and I won’t come.” None of that makes sense. I am aware in my rational thoughts that my mere existence in a certain space will not set bad events into motion. But just in case, I wanted her blessing before I visited.

My favorite podcast recently did an episode about “manifestation.” Manifestation is the opposite side of the superstition coin. This has become such a huge buzzword recently. People believe we can just will things into being. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that we cannot. It doesn’t matter how much you want something, sometimes the world is just unfair. Do people with food insecurity just not want food enough? I’m thinking no. Do people who are downsized and laid off from their companies just not want to be employed enough? No. Do people with fertility issues not want a baby enough? Definitely not.

After writing this whole post, I wish I could tell you I went directly to my fridge to throw out that cider but I didn’t. It’s still there. And guess what, it’s almost pumpkin season again but I probably won’t buy that cider again. It’s too loaded with sadness and guilt. And drinking it would feel like literally consuming and causing more of that sadness and guilt. I guess that’s superstition too.

I wish I could tell you that my superstitions will completely stop, but I know that isn’t true either. As I said to my therapist, whether or not they are healthy habits, having a miniscule sense of control over a world that is so out of my control can feel helpful. And if that means having expired pregnancy tests in the back of my bathroom drawer forever, then I’m ok with that.