The Hole

There is a baby shaped hole in my life.

I tried to fill it today with a chai latte and marshmallow square. You can guess how well that worked.

I need to pick up my Ovidrel and Folgard from campus pharmacy today. I need to call the cryobank today. Usually these little tasks make me feel like at least I'm doing something about the baby shaped hole. Today--not so much. I haven't yet bothered to do either one. Instead, I'm sitting in my office, awaiting my final class of the semester, in which I will once again discuss a birth scene with my students.

This time seven years ago, I sat in my office day after day and cried and then went off to teach. I was in the middle of what felt like the longest miscarriage in history. Five weeks from start to finish, and then there was the mandatory three months of uterine and mental health rest. Loss was all consuming.

It still is. I suppose it doesn't help that I'm dealing with it as an intellectual project as well, as I get these two manuscripts, both of which deal with fertility and pregnancy loss, off to publishers.

I never imagined I'd be celebrating my one year anniversary with Dr. Gorgeous talking to Dr. Gorgeous. Can I just say I hate the third fucking Thursday in December? It's also the anniversary of my D&C.

I think it's fair to say that every month since May I've dug myself deeper into this hole. I don't know how much deeper I can go without ever coming back out.