Tuesday, May 04, 2004

Lucy and "Being Okay"

My new XM radio station is "Lucy." They have all kinds of rock stations; some others are "Ethel" and "Fred." (I'm assuming some "I Love Lucy" reference? I haven't found a "Ricky" but it might be over in the Latin music category.) I was listening to "Lucy" the other day and realized why it is such a fit for me. The announcer said, "Lucy...music for introspection and self-loathing." Bingo. No wonder I always love their music. A sample: Faith No More, the Cure, the Pixies, Radiohead, Oasis, Depeche Mode, Tori Amos, the Violent Femmes. Lucy is pretty much, "I am confused about life and loathe myself"-music. Lucy and I are a perfect match!!

I love the prego dog. We might just keep her. She's the dog I always wanted. Housebroken, mild-mannered, loving, loyal. By the second night, she was sleeping in our bed with us. I took her to the vet yesterday and he said she'd probably have the babies in a week or two. I also took Asshole Chihuahua to get his yearly shots. Bit the vet, bit me, peed and pooped on the table. Vet finally had to take him into the other room. He and another vet put huge gloves on and gave him his shots. Sigh. So embarrassing. Thankfully, the vet just laughed at him.

I discovered this morning that I am not pregnant, yet again. What is this...cycle 14 or 15? I lose track. I thought I was doing better about my infertility, but my friend at work announced that she was pregnant this morning. I truly am happy for her, but I have to admit, I am having a hard time this morning. About four co-workers came up after they heard and, with very concerned grave faces, asked me, "Are you okay with this?" What gets me about this question is that the person really doesn't want you to not "be okay." They're really making a statement rather than asking a question:  "I need you to be okay with this because if not, it will make me feel bad." So I have to plaster a smile on my face and say, "No, no. I'm fine" and "Don't you worry about me" or "Pish posh. I didn't want a baby anyway." Then, their face brightens and you see the relief. Ellen is okay. She is not a selfish, crappy, jealous friend. She is not going to lock herself in the bathroom and cry. She has followed society's rules.

I am scheduled for a laparoscopy for next week, if the doctor would just called me back to confirm it (very frustrating.) I am apprehensive about it. I try and be all Wonderwoman about it, but inside, I am scared. It might be a little more comforting if it was here in my hometown, but I have to drive all the way to Tulsa to have it done. And no, it's not major surgery. But yes, I am scared.

My sister is getting married in October. She was talking about bridesmaid's dresses. She said, "Well, I need to think about the fact that you and Emily might be pregnant." I said, "Please don't say that." The thing is, it just makes it worse sometimes to be hopeful. I start imagining myself all big and pregnant at her wedding. Then I get there, it doesn't happen, I'm standing there in the dress and it's just a reminder-- no baby. Gee, you look lovely, but you have a defunct uterus.

I had certain events set up in my mind. First it was, "Well, maybe I'll be pregnant at Christmas." Christmas, all I got was a negative pregnancy stick. Then I thought it would be easier for me when my good friend had her baby in May, because I'd surely be pregnant by then. But now she's about to pop and all I'm looking at is surgery. So, no more set-ups. I can't do it anymore.

I'm really sorry if this post came across as "Poor Me." I didn't mean it to be that way, I promise. I really don't feel "Poor Me" in much of my life, and let's face it, nobody likes a "Poor Me."


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