Saturday, September 24, 2016

A Day in the Life of the Disappointed-But-Not-Disconsolate Infertile

Now that we are "ttc" in the most official of ways, nary a day goes by without at least a thought or few minutes dedicated to my lady parts. For the most part, it's cumbersome and annoying.

Sunday: set alarm for 6 am, despite it being the weekend and thus a family day, because you foolishly agreed to work on-call because you overspend compared to your lower-middle class income; begrudgingly pee in a waxy paper cup, splash a bit on your finger, and note that at least it's the last of some 12+ consecutive ovulation prediction pee sticks in the past couple weeks

Monday: set alarm for 6 am, but don't get out of bed until 7; drive your almost-4.5-year-old to daycare/preK for your half-day of solo time; see neighborhood parents walking their Big Kids to the elementary school, and daydream about staying home this time next year with your newborn and walking your Bean to school; don't use the free time as efficiently as you would like, but relish the morning anyway

Wednesday: notice that your boobs feel heavy and mildly tender; know that it's probably because you're PMSing, but hold out hope it's because you just might be pregnant after all; tell your husband as much

Thursday: pick up your book on hold at the library, One and Only, written by a woman who is an Only Child and has an Only Child; before bed, start reading new book, but realize this might be a better read for if and when you really truly decide you can't and won't have any more children, lest the books convince you, once again, to stop trying and delaying the whole "infertility" process

Saturday: discover on Facebook that an acquaintance is accidentally pregnant, with her third child, and will have reproduced a whole brood in just a bit more time than you will have been trying for a second

Sunday: spend a lazy morning with your favorite people; they even surprise you with a Dutch Bros iced mocha after their Home Depot errand; go pee during Quiet Time to discover you have started your period; feel irritated and disappointed and tell your husband; he's kind, but he's sad, which makes you feel even more like a failure, unable to provide your family with the added member they both want; text your BFFs to whine freely, talk shit about all the other pregnant bitches, and receive their unwavering support; feel better after you exercise; joke with your hubs that maybe you guys are just the types who produce One Hit Wonders, and really, who doesn't want their time to shine in a major way, Like Mr. Big in the 1990s?!?

Monday: consider returning the call from the fertility clinic LCSW, to make an appointment to be seen about personal and marital issues related to procreating and infertility; ultimately decide against it, because, when would you both be able to attend such an appointment, and it's really not so bad after all

Tuesday: feel too F-A-T (you're not allowed to say this word in your house, lest your preschool daughter catches wind of your lack of body positive messages toward yourself) in all your clothes; refuse to step on the scale because you already know that the numbers have inched their way up in the last 4 to 5 months, you're on your period and bloated anyway, and you're wanting to avoid any irrational fixation on your weight as a number; question whether today or tomorrow counts as Day 3,"depending whether you think that first day was "spotting" or full-on bleeding; note that your have NEVER had to pay so much attention to your gross bodily discharges, save for that time in college the doctors thought you had a bleeding ulcer

Wednesday: first thing in the morning notice your daughter watching you put in a tampon and then ask you, "but why aren't you doing the pee test?"; instead, start this month's round of Clomid and choke down those two bitter (literally, but also figuratively); Google whether Clomid can be to blame for today's muscle aches, knowing that it's really just regular ole life

Friday: it's your short day at work, the day you make plans to take care of all the things; at 12:15, when you're done with your grad students, easily shirk your commitment to workout at the gym, even skipping the grocery store for new ice cream, heading straight home to lay on the couch for the afternoon; you're exhausted, mostly without good reason, and you keep putting off picking your daughter up from daycare for "just one more" Mindy Project; remind yourself that if you do indeed get pregnant, you're going to be this tired and inactive for several months

Saturday: wake up at 7:15, earlier than you want or need to be awake, because, dammit, you have a cold and you have to blow your nose, yet again; you're annoyed that you caught the crud, but also a little bit relieved that the cold virus can at least explain/justify your aching body and otherwise inexplicable fatigue; you're glad you're not aimlessly feeling shitty, and that it probably really isn't the Clomid anyway; remind your husband that you can probably start boning on the regular in the next few days, and sincerely adore the way he smiles at you at the prospect of daily sex

Monday, September 19, 2016

(54 Months) - 4 and a 1/2 Years Old

First thing she said to me this morning: "I'm bigger today," as her face widened into a smile and she opened her eyes. And then she requested I sing her the "Happy Birthday" song. 

Scene: Wilson High School outdoor swimming pool, on the last day of summer. To start, it was just her and me among the crowded madness, enjoying some one-on-one pool time, her showing off all her moves.
"Mama, why is that baby black?"
Me: "That's not really a "why" question sweetie ... Like our hair, we all have different color skin, too ... A baby has two patents, so just because your parents happen to look alike doesn't mean all parents do. If that lady is the baby's mama, I'm guessing the daddy has dark skin."
Turns out the nice mom overhears our whole "teaching moment" and informs us that her husband is from Nigeria. I would have been embarrassed, but I kinda did a kick-ass job explaining that race shit. 

We pass a woman in a hijab with a stroller:
"What's that outfit called?"

She started PreK this month and continued to be SO excited about it b

Can buckle entirely by herself into her car seat. 

Eating lamb shanks: "I couldn't live without this meat."

"I wish you didn't have to work all the time." Funny statement given we had almost the whole summer off together and I work only parttime. 

"Why is that black man handing out tickets?"
Turns out that, yes, while the man himself was black, she referred to him as @that black man" because he was wearing all black. Duh, mom. 

She told me about a bad dream she had that resulted with her in our bed: "I dreamed we were standing in a line with my mom and dad and bad guys took me and cooked me in the oven and ate me."

Getting home after daycare pickup with Alex: "I want some apple juice. And a baby brother."

"How do real tigers get babies?"

She is soooooo comforting and caring. I had the (unfortunate and kinda embarrassing) experience of crying following an awkward friend sitch, and boy did she want me to feel better! She brought me "stuffies," pat my head, covered my face with blankets, told me she loved me, used her sweet voice and kind words ... 

"I like that plant right there. Because then my succulent gets good light. I'm trying to take really good care of it."

"My hands have powers ... Fire power, ice power, unicorn power ... It's when pretend unicorns get distracted by whales."

Me to Alex: "Are you going downstairs to get me a Diet Coke?"
Francie to Alex: "Can you get me a beer?"
Alex to Francie: "Are you old enough? Are you 21?"
Francie to everyone: "No, I'm SIXTY!"

Hover to Pin

Designed with ♥ by Nudge Media Design