November 2009: The Meltdown, Part 2

I went to visit my friend in the hospital – the women’s hospital. The same place where I wanted to be giving birth in 9 months, but knew I wasn’t. I was already feeling shaky from that and the fact that I had a fight with my mom (my parents were in town for Thanksgiving). As I was leaving the hospital, I saw I had a voicemail from a friend who said she had news. I knew what it was. She was calling to say she was pregnant-with her second. She was going to have two of something I had none of. I couldn’t handle it. Right there, in the middle of the street, I started bawling. My poor parents (especially my dad), had no idea what to do with me. My mom did the best thing she could and bought me shoes – really high heels that I reasoned I couldn’t wear if I was pregnant. Then we went out for Mexican and I drank too much – again, something I couldn’t do if I was pregnant.

November 2009: The Doctor

My friend had to have uterine fibroids removed and I went with her to her doctor consultation. This doctor just happened to be the lead infertility doctor. I'll call him Dr. Grandpa because he was caring but stern like a relative. I sat with her while she chatted with him, and the conversation moved to fertility, and then the conversation moved to me. Here’s the gist of it:

Dr Grandpa: “And you, are you married?”

Me: “Yes.”

Dr Grandpa: “Do you have children?”

Me: “No.”

Dr Grandpa: “Do you want children?”

Me: “Yes.”

Dr Grandpa: “Well, you better get going.”

Me: [Argument about my employment situation]

Dr Grandpa: “Please start – I don’t want to see you in here.”

Prophetic.

November 2009: The Meltdown, Part 1

Choo, choo! The biological freight train was still slamming into me as if it was going in reverse and accelerating over and over again. The night of our five-year dating anniversary, a night which should have been a nice dinner out (our only one while I was out of a job) turned into a disaster. I had a complete crying meltdown of how this was the month we were supposed to start trying and we can’t and my eggs are dying by the minute, and I WANT A BABY!!!!!!!!!! Poor TK tried to cheer me up, but I responded to everything with “My eggs are dying”.

In the end, we decided that if I didn’t have a job by the end of January, we would start trying.