First off, yes, I’m alive. This weekend kind of kicked my behind. While I didn’t set out with this intention, this weekend essentially became the “weekend of losts.” If you asked me what behaviors I’ve changed, what actions I’ve altered, and what opportunities I’ve passed up in the past 3.5 years of trying to start a family, I could now answer quite concretely. I’d simply say, “You know what I did last weekend? Well, yea, that’s what I gave up and moved beyond when we decided to start trying to conceive.”
Here’s a timeline.
The event: Happy hour. Beers with peers. A rollicking good time. And, a time I needed when, on my drive home from work, I realized Holy mother of God it’s still f-ing snowing here! (Fists to the sky) It’s APRIL!
The IF reminder: A new dear friend who knows of our woes greeted me by saying, “Happy you’re here, sorry to see you’re drinking.” To some, this might be too touchy or too uncomfortable, to me it was a reminder that I’ve managed to make an incredible support network in our brief time here. This is what I needed someone to say, and I’m glad I had someone around to not only say it, but to observe it in the first place. I really, truly do love beer, but even at the happiest of happy hours I still find myself wishing I couldn’t have any. And to have a peer pick up on that deep down pain, well, that was pretty awesome. (Oh, and so was the beer.)
The event: Breakfast. McDonald’s to be exact.
The IF reminder: Oh, God, I love food that is shit for your body. I’ve missed you MickeyD’s. If I’m not allowed to even try to conceive, I might as well totally mess up my good diet regime with this sausage McMuffin. I mean, I want to have something for the rheumatologist to blame me for when I finally get to see her, right?
The event: Fancy pants art film screening. A triptych film installation documenting American cataclysms. You know, we’re childless academics. It’s our thing.
The IF reminder: My Lord if parts of the damn thing didn’t look like a blurry ultrasound. I kept waiting for the break in the awesome soundtrack and original compositions in which I’d hear giddy nurse echo, “I’m sorry-orry-orry-ry. There’s no heartbeat-beat-eat…”
The event: Shopping. Must buy all the pretty dresses, blouses, and cardigans.
The IF reminders: 1. I haven’t had either a good probing, a condescending consult, or a FedEx delivery from Freedom Pharmacy in a looong while, so, lookie there!, I have some expendable income! 2. Between my Hashi’s and PCOS diagnoses in 2011 and today I have lost 60 lbs. and 5 sizes (take that “You’re just fat, lazy, and depressed!”). But, I haven’t bought any new clothes in all that time because, “It would be depressing to have all these nice new clothes but then be too big for them again because I’m pregnant.” That seems unlikely, so it’s time to un-bag-lady myself. (Oh, yea, and I give you all permission to vomit in your mouth and fling it onto the monitor in response to my weight loss gloating. It’s what I’d be doing.)
The event: Colleague’s raucous birthday party. Booze, karaoke, dancing, one too many cameras and book-of-facing for my liking.
The IF reminder: The next morning. The total body ache that emanated more from deciding it would be a blast to show of my Little Nell moves during our Rocky Horror sing-along, than from the liquid courage that made me open to dancing in the first place. I’m not even thirty and every. muscle. hurts. Maybe a banana will be a better breakfast than those…
The event: Breakfast. Screw the banana. I’m making 12 pounds of shredded breakfast potatoes. And bacon. And eggs. And toast!
The IF reminder: My tummy… I’m gonna go to the grocery store and buy better food for the week ahead…
The event: Dentist appointment.
The IF reminder: Why, yes, yes you may do X-rays! No, I most certainly am not pregnant! When were my last X-rays? Umm, spring 2010? (Doing the mental math.) No, probably fall 2009. We were on an every fall schedule (because I know the hubs just had his done). In the fall of 2010 I was trying to conceive and in the middle of a 65 day anovulatory cycle. And, I was definitely supposed to do them in fall 2011, but I was pregnant with my ectopic. Then spring 2012 when I went in and was decidedly no longer pregnant, I had that awkward conversation with the hygienist who had prepared for the day she’d spend with her pregnant client. But, never fear, for that visit I was in fact pregnant again. No X-rays, but also no baby. The pregnancy ended a few days later. And, I guess, that brings us to today. Wait, what’s wrong, Ms. Hygienist? Did I say something wrong? Is there something on my face?
So, there you have it, I’ve abandoned you all for booze, clothes, fried food, tap dancing, and a dental cleaning. Tune in next week when I wax poetic about the glories of unpasteurized soft cheeses and high doses of ibuprofen!