Is there is or is there ain't...a baby?

Newsflash- I hate suspense. This is well documented. I'm the person who was always nagging my parents to open the presents on Christmas Eve, just because I couldn't stand not knowing anymore whether they bought me, for example, the Princess Leia doll (you know, the one with the removable donut rings in her hair).

During horror films, where the pretty student goes wandering around a darkened basement when the psycho murderer hangs out slobbering in the shadows with the big knife, you'll find me somewhere under the sofa with the cushions over my head. I don't mind the gore- I cannot take the pre-gore.

I skip ahead to the last page of mystery novels.

I frequent message boards that post spoilers to movies and TV shows I haven't seen yet.

You get the picture. It's not that I am necessarily impatient- I can wait with great stoicism for certain things- as long as I know when that thing is meant to arrive. What I cannot bear is the unknowing. If I can know, then I can imagine (falsely, of course) that this gives me some measure of control over my circumstances. Or at least it helps me get on with choosing how I want to feel about it- whether to weep in the shower, or say fuck it and have a large glass of wine.

Therefore, the infamous two week wait ( or 2ww, for those of you who are au fait with your acronyms) is to me the equivalent of an alektorophobic in a chicken coop. It's torture.

During the first nine months or so of trying, I feverishly documented every sign or symptom. Every morning at 7.05 precisely, the thermometer went in the mouth- beep beep beep. Chart, chart, chart. Spend hours on end looking at chart and comparing it to those of people who had become pregnant. Run to bathroom to see if boobs have gotten bigger. Stare at weird veins in boobs, hoping this is indicative of something. Ooh, minor twinge- implantation? Sudden craving for obscure cheese. Eat for two. Refuse to lift heavy things, i.e toilet brush-v. bad for the baby.

But not once have I even reached a point where I could justify spending money on a pregnancy test. And my tendency to worry about it obsessively has lessened- it just takes up too much energy. Now I just worry about it a lot.

So here I am again, exactly halfway through, and I want to know. I want to know now. Is there is- or is there ain't- a baby?