“So, I’m going to need you to go ahead and give me a semen sample.”
Ok. No. That’s not right.
What about—
“So the thing is, if I’m going to go and get my reproductive situation assessed for the future… then… maybe we should talk about the future… and when that might start.”
Not bad. A little Jerry McGuire-ish, but still down to earth. Was it maybe a little too clinical?
I’m not wearing my wedding ring and it feels very strange.
The truth is I haven’t worn it in weeks, but it’s only now, looking at Hubs’ bare hands that I feel odd. Somehow when he removed his, it got me looking for mine. Like I have to visually confirm its absence.
Sometimes I still feel its imprint and my thumb darts across my palm searching for the thin bands on my fingers. It’s like having a ghost appendage.
Someone please tell me why you can get nitrous oxide for something as simple as getting your teeth cleaned, but removing a chunk or two of flesh from my endometrium doesn’t warrant so much as a Tylenol. Seriously?
I had 2 biopsies almost 10 days ago and I’m still involuntarily crossing my legs when I see anything that vaguely reminds me of a speculum. Shudder.
The last time I was at Winterlude I was 8 weeks pregnant. I would lose the baby 3 weeks later.
I’m ok.
I’m not dwelling on this, I promise. It’s just the way it is. It’s a small thought that worms its way matter-of-factly into my brain. It’s just there. What can I say? It’s a part of the way I measure reality.
I was finally at the office of the new fertility specialist.
I thought I was going to throw up. Instead, I busied myself with conducting a design critique of the waiting room. Just a thought, but maybe lime green and sky blue in every variation of stripe and polk-a-dot is a bit too much. Just a bit. Ok, breathe Kat, just breathe.
Have you seen the movie ‘Say Anything’? You know at the end when they’re sitting there on the airplane waiting for the ding? That’s what I was like.
