A remarkable thing happened a few weeks ago: I taught Brenda Miller's Season of the Body, in concert with a theoretical discussion of pregnancy loss. And I didn't cry. I was completely able to have a normal, intellectual conversation about pregnancy loss, without importing all kinds of personal baggage.
The same week I was involved in a class discussion (not my class, a guest lecture sort of thing) of SMCs. Also, did not completely get choked up about it, even when INFERTILITY and miscarriage came up as a topic of conversation.
I thought, huh, maybe this is what it means when people talk about "getting over" infertility. I mean, the miscarriage that undid all my grand plans for easily conceiving baby #2 happened FIVE YEARS AGO. I haven't been a fertility patient in three years. Tiny Boy is on his way to preschool (and annoying sentences, like "It not nap time, Mom. My eyes open." Yes, brilliant).
I thought maybe with all these books I'm just done spinning my wheels. I've written myself healthy.
But then holy shit I was at Target looking at onesies for Tiny Boy, and I came completely unglued. Baby things. Oh my goodness I need baby things. And a baby to put in the baby things. Why are there so many pregnant women and I am not one of them.
My left ovary is going haywire in a familiar follicular development sort of way. It's just the estrogen talking, right?
*
I should have a piece up at Role/Reboot marking National Infertility Awareness Week. To all of you who have not yet and might not ever be able to complete your families and "get over it," I wish you well.
The same week I was involved in a class discussion (not my class, a guest lecture sort of thing) of SMCs. Also, did not completely get choked up about it, even when INFERTILITY and miscarriage came up as a topic of conversation.
I thought, huh, maybe this is what it means when people talk about "getting over" infertility. I mean, the miscarriage that undid all my grand plans for easily conceiving baby #2 happened FIVE YEARS AGO. I haven't been a fertility patient in three years. Tiny Boy is on his way to preschool (and annoying sentences, like "It not nap time, Mom. My eyes open." Yes, brilliant).
I thought maybe with all these books I'm just done spinning my wheels. I've written myself healthy.
But then holy shit I was at Target looking at onesies for Tiny Boy, and I came completely unglued. Baby things. Oh my goodness I need baby things. And a baby to put in the baby things. Why are there so many pregnant women and I am not one of them.
My left ovary is going haywire in a familiar follicular development sort of way. It's just the estrogen talking, right?
*
I should have a piece up at Role/Reboot marking National Infertility Awareness Week. To all of you who have not yet and might not ever be able to complete your families and "get over it," I wish you well.
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