Mommies Here!

Nadia’s father died of a heart attach about a year ago. Truth be told, they were never really close, but they did share a similiar sense of humor. When she was going through his things after his death, she found this Dilbert comic strip and passed it on to me as a momento.

I wouldn’t say that he approved of our relationship, but it also wouldn’t be fair to say that he disapproved. Frankly, he never really said much about our union, and that–in many ways–says it all.

Anyway, I came across this cartoon in my ‘favorite’ notebook today. I put it there a few years ago and forgot about it. Nadia gave it to me to remember her dad because it was a perfect ’screencap’ of my job at the time. I like to think that this cartoon is a private joke made only for the three of us, but I know that’s not true.

 When my father-in-law died, I was working for a non-profit with a wonderful mission but it also had an insane and unhealthy work ethic. My boss wanted to meet with me an average of 20 hours a week, and then had the nerve to be indignant when I told her it was hard for me to get my work done. Needless to say I worked very long hours, got into a few tiffs with the boss and often felt that I didn’t have time for me or my relationship.

 I can’t help but think that my time there impacted my ability to get pregnant, though I will never know for sure. I now work in a much calmer family-friendly environment and, even though it’s only been a few weeks, I already feel like things will work out for me when I start my IVF in September.  I sure hope so.

But right now, I’m sporting a wry smile  thinking about my father-in-law and Catbert.

Hey! Was everyone glued to the TV tonight to watch Quads with 2 Moms? I DVRed it but have yet to watch. I can’t wait. What an interesting cultural moment! Particularly for us Queer TTCers!

Is it unethical to embark on a job search while trying to get pregnant?

When I decided to have my myomectomy, I decided that I would tell people that I was having a myomectomy. Normally, I am a very private person, but I did not want to tell people that I was having surgery and then leave the rest to their imagination. I did not want them to go wild, thinking that I had a brain tumor, malignant cancer or something equally as egregious, so I told the truth, but that decision lead to several little lies.

For example, as soon as word got out around the office about my myomectomy, folks–who I normally don’t speak to very much–would come up to me and converse with me about the “length of my periods”, the” size of my fibroids”, “my physical discomfort”. People assumed that I had fibroids the size of watermelons growing uncontrollably inside my uterus and that that was why I had to have the surgery. More often then not, they started confiding to me about their fibroid symptoms including: anemia; discomfort–due to their size; and the length of their periods, which in some cases lasted over two weeks.

I feel bad because I didn’t have the courage to set the record straight. And it’s not because I am not an honest person or that I lack integrity. I just didn’t want people to know the truth–which is that that the only reason I had the surgery was because my RE thought it was preventing me from getting pregnant. Given their size, location, and the minimal effect they had on my body, I could have lived with them forever, but for the fact that they were distorting my uterus.

I have to admit that I feel a bit guilty about the fact that I did not clarify, or set the record straight with my well meaning colleagues. In some cases, I even elaborated on a particular ‘mythical’ symptom because, in some instances, if I said nothing or refused to respond, it would have created more suspicion or, at the very least, lead to more agonizing discussion. And in most cases, I wanted the fibroid exchanges to be very, very brief, if I had to have them at all.

So, this is a kind of confession. Thanks for listening. I did what I did for a reason and if I had to do it over again, I would handle it exactly the same way, but I don’t feel good about it.

So I am traveling for work and I am registered to attend a huge conference and, frankly, I don’t want to do anything. I just want to park myself in my room and look at my navel.

Emotionally, I feel as if I am in some kind of holding pattern. I feel as if all I do is wait. I am waiting for surgery, waiting for recovery, waiting to begin the TTC and then, the ultimate wait, some might say, is the TWW. Basically, I miss being on the hamster wheel.

I know that the surgery may increase my chances to conceive but it is hard to keep sight of that sometimes.

On the other hand, I know that this is just a moment in time and that this too shall pass.

Okay, I promised myself that I would not post about my job and, believe me I am usually quite good at demonstrating restraint, but I can’t resist this one story.

Two days ago my boss came to me and asked if I would travel to Europe for the job in October. I know this may sound glamorous, but keep reading…

She wants me to go to Europe to represent the organization at a two day meeting the week of my surgery. She wants me to spend four days abroad and arrive back in the U.S two days before my surgery, which she knows all about. I told her that I was scheduled to have blood work done at the hospital during that time, so I did not think I could make it. And her response was, “can you call your doctor, change the date of your blood work, and make the trip?”She was not apologetic about her request. She would really like to go to this very important meeting, but she has a ‘conflict’.

I think my conflict is a little more pressing. I don’t want to arrive back in the U.S. exhausted, jet-lagged, with airborne germs floating in my system two days before my first surgery. If I have a cold the day of my surgery, it may have to be rescheduled. Don’t I have enough anxiety to deal with? I am dying to get back to my copious egg counting and egg drop drama hampster wheel.

Needless to say, I said, no, but I know she will ask me at least two more times before October.

I promised myself that I would not blog about my job, but I am must confess that I am happy that it is Friday. What can I say? It was just ‘one of those weeks.’

Do you ever have weeks like that?