And some days, they last longer than others

21 Nov

So I am dreaming, and it’s a messed up dream. We had just bought a house for a steal of a price because the man who lived there had hung himself on the curtain rod in the main living room. Weird things start happening there, things being misplaced etc. Then I come home one day, and there is a mannequin hanging from the same curtain rod in black knee-high boots with the word DANGER written down the back of them. I am frozen, staring at it. The phone, which is somehow already in my hand, rings. I answer it and its our Realtor and she says that she had been trying to reach us for a week to tell us -zoom lens- THE LOCKS HAD NEVER BEEN CHANGED.

Then, as clear as day, I heard my mom say, “LINDSEY!” so urgently that I woke up. I grabbed my cell phone because I felt like there would be a call from my mom or that something bad had happened and it blinks back to me two pieces of information: it’s only 7:00 AM and my babymama is ovulating.

And that is how I started my day.

I had a doctor appointment today and the nurse is going through my prescription list to weed out the old ones and she asks me about the prenatal I was on a year or so ago. I told her she could take it off, and a little menu comes up that asks her why and she asks me if had finished the course, or didn’t like it. I told her that I wasn’t pregnant so I didn’t take it.

“So you have a little one at home?” she says.

“No. No little ones. It didn’t work”

“Well, that happens. Some people get pregnant if you look at ’em sideways, others, well, you could put a kindergartner in there and they couldn’t keep it alive!”

I don’t know how to respond to this, so I just smile.

It’s hard to tell you what it’s like to move through your day knowing that you have to try and inseminate someone at the end of the day. Each time it is like the first time, it never gets any less emotionally draining or awkward. I mean, we have been saying to ourselves that this month would be easier, we would be more prepared, less rushed and frantic and bumping into each other to grab our shoes and my purse and . . . go inseminate someone.

It’s not any easier.

Our babymama’s boyfriend isn’t a real fan of us. I mean, let’s face it, you wouldn’t be either. He is contractually prohibited from having sex with his girlfriend for about two weeks a month, and soon (hopefully) she will be cranky and swollen and and tired because she is carrying a baby that isn’t his. Um . . . sorry? Thank you?

I can’t take on his feelings, I don’t have the capacity for it. I can’t continue to apologize for my broken uterus, like it is some plate that used to be your grandmothers that I threw in fight. I mean, if we are keeping score, my uterus owes me, dude. It’s my uterus that was such a dick to start with.

There is no cohesive thread to this post, by the way. Don’t look for it. I don’t know what the dream meant. I don’t know why I heard my mother calling me. I don’t know why having a baby is so hard.


13 Responses to “And some days, they last longer than others”

  1. Raz 11/21/2009 at 2:00 pm #

    I find it really hard to cope with scary dreams when there isn’t a big cuddle afterwards, so I admire you!

    It must be really tough to deal with, and I wish you all the best in your time. Your venting is always coherent and really fascinating, though, so know that people are here to read you!

  2. Liz 11/21/2009 at 3:11 pm #

    Try this next time someone threatens to put a dead kindergartner in your uterus (I read that right, right?) Just look up as blankly as possible & say “wow.” Don’t elaborate. Just “wow.” Works every time.

    Everything I have is crossed & hoping for you.

  3. Desiraie 11/22/2009 at 2:50 am #

    I gasped loudly when I read what she said. I always thought that our doctors’ offices would be the one place we could expect sensitivity to the bunk uterus situation but it never fails, they are the ones who say the shit that pisses us off and stings the most.

    Like seriously, the medical assistant at the doctor who removed my uterus asks when my last period was. Or they make me give a urine sample and charge me for a pregnancy test almost every time I go in no matter how many times I remind them. WTF is wrong with these people? Some days I really hate them.

    The boyfriend can live with it. It will make him a better person in the end. His feelings are not your problem. You’re right to not let them in. You’re awesome to understand and recognize them.

  4. Amanda 11/23/2009 at 3:50 am #

    Sh*t, are we allowed to swear here?

    If there is one thing that kills me, it’s the parents who aren’t yet. The people just meant to do it. I have no clue what this must be like for you, but reading it, hurts, so I imagine living it does as well. I’ll never forget your letter. One day, some baby is going to get the gift of a lifetime.

    • lswan 11/25/2009 at 4:15 pm #

      Amanda, thank you so much!

  5. amie 11/23/2009 at 4:25 pm #

    Love the plate anaology. Hate the dr office dumbass. We had those too. Peace.

    • lswan 11/25/2009 at 4:18 pm #

      Yeah, the nurse was . . . a dumbass. 🙂

  6. mepsipax 11/23/2009 at 10:31 pm #

    Good luck with the baby making.

    • lswan 11/25/2009 at 4:17 pm #

      Thank you!

  7. Mary 11/25/2009 at 12:16 am #

    I found you through Carmen’s blog. I empathize with you and your “baby making” ordeals. There are many ways to become a parent, and I suggest the road of adoption. Granted it is not for the faint of heart, but the rewards are great. My husband and I became parents in our forties, and love our two little girls more than I can say. They keep us young!

    • lswan 11/25/2009 at 4:17 pm #

      Mary, I am totally not opposed to adoption, I have always wanted to adopt. This surrogacy thing just fell into our laps and we felt like we had to explore it before we did anything else. Congratulations on your adoptions. I may be hitting you up for more information!


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