musings

Written in my fertility clinic file: "frustrated with inability to conceive." Gee, ya think?
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Why are there so many strangers in Asia and Europe who suddenly want to bequeath all their worldly goods to me? And how did they get my e-mail address?
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Why do male OBs believe that describing what they think you're feeling as you're actually feeling it helps you deal with the thing you're feeling - when they have NO idea what that thing feels like at all? Someone needs to tell them that we don't buy their mumbled, coming-from-between-the-legs apologies.
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They should give you chocolate after dildocams. I'm not kidding - they should.
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Changing a diaper for the very first time in your entire life more than two years after you gave birth to a child yourself is just plain strange. No two ways around it. It just shouldn't be.
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I flip the bird to people in Hummers. Sometimes I'm not filled with the spirit of Jesus at ALL.
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I had one of those perfect moments of bliss a few days ago. As soon as I noticed I was having it, it went away. But it was nice while it lasted.
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We did two IUIs this weekend. I could be pregnant. I'm probably not. But maybe I am. Or maybe I'm not. There's nothing more humbling than being utterly clueless about what exactly your body is doing. Or what it's capable of doing.
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I don't know if I'm more terrified at the thought of being pregnant or not being pregnant.
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I'm meeting with my priest this week and suddenly I'm scared. The Clomid fueled bravado has worn off. I hope I don't end up crying in his office. I don't want to end up crying in his office...
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I was thinking about Thomas' stroller the other day. I can't remember what it looks like.
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What's worse? I can no longer imagine what Thomas might look like. It was easy when he was a baby - when he still would have been a baby - but I can't imagine what he'd look like now at 26 months. This thought makes me profoundly, deeply, achingly sad.
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I wonder if I'm pregnant.
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I wonder if I'm not pregnant.
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Please don't ask.