Posted by: cck | August 27, 2011

enter red velvet

I was precocious as a child.  I feel like I need to say “was” because to be a thirty-something, precocious adult is just too much for words.  I was always a bit different: all together a little too much.  When I’d try something – be it bike riding, running for high school student government, or painting – if I fell short I’d simply quit.  I preferred to be perfect and anything less just wasn’t worth my time.  My father, who was rather encouraging back in the day, used to humor me with a pity party.  A half of a red velvet cake and a thirty minute squall – I could drown myself in pity.  But then it was pick yourself up time, get back in the game.

Yesterday, I drowned for a while.  Instead of red velvet cake, there was a bowl of chili cheese fries and omigawd, were they good.

On some level, I was hoping that all of this fertility stuff was simply an exercise – an overabundance of caution.  I tend to over-prepare, and thus avoid, many of the pitfalls that seem to affect folks like me – folks with mental and emotional problems.  Being the overly optimistic spirit that I am, I had this feeling that everything would just work out.  If I could prepare for every possibility, I would avoid having to experience any of them.  And now…

One of the cruel things about infertility, is that women are told to simultaneously stay on top of the process: doctors, tests, temperatures, insurance AND relax, stay calm, be still.  I think this may be the first step of being a parent: stay on top of the ball and stop to savor the moments.  So, now it’s back to the reality of the situation.  I don’t ovulate.  My husband has a low sperm count.  My dream of having a baby is still intact, we’re just taking a slightly rockier road.  We’re meant to do this – this alternate path.  We’re meant to learn something, see something, be something.

This I can do.

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