Wes saw the orthopedic surgeon yesterday and not only does he NOT need surgery, he does NOT need a cast, either! He has one of those really attractive shoe things (pictures to come, for sure) that keeps his foot flat and still and he is allowed to put weight on it! You can imagine - I thought I was going to be doing all the work around here for two months but actually I am going to be doing most of the work and simultaneously trying to keep him from overdoing it. I know how his mind works. He hears "You can put weight on it," and the rest turns into the teacher voice from "Peanuts" - "Wawawaaah." He has to go slowly and carefully so it heals really well, because as he posted in comments a few days ago, it's been a solid 18 months of some injury or other for him and I would love to have him *not* in physical therapy, just for a little while. But all in all, EXCELLENT news for Wes.
I am just returned from my HSG and good news there, too. Tubes are clear. So that's exciting. Also worth reporting - I do not ever want to have another HSG. That was really not fun. I don't mind the speculum or the pinching whatever-it-was they shoved into me, but the injection of the dye made me gasp and tear up. It was one of the most uncomfortable sort of painful, weird things I've ever experienced. And Wes wasn't allowed to come into the x-ray room with me (we think because it was so small it would have been hard for everyone to move around). On the plus side, my own RE did the test, which was nice because she was calm and kind. I was barely listening to anything, as I was so nervous I lost my voice entirely and just nodded or shook my head to every question.
And before I forget, a humungous giant shout of thanks to Julie and Patrick for cooking us an amazing dinner (one consumable by Wes, no less!) that we will be enjoying tonight. It was so, so sweet of you and especially appreciated tonight as neither one of us feels much like standing up and cooking. I can't thank you enough. And another huge mass of gratitude to Asia who walked our Lexie last night - thank you! (gertielover - are you around this weekend for a shift?).
I didn't blog anything yesterday because after the orthopedist and some drinks with Asia, I had to have an hours-long, gigantic, tantruming meltdown the likes of which we had not seen since... well, I guess since last month maybe? In any case, it was the usual fun - Wes says something dumb that makes me a little bit mad and he apologizes seven quadrillion times but I can't let it go and instead make it into the World's Most Important Thing, That Which Will Determine the Future Course of Our Marriage, and the Reason I Will Never Have a Baby and Probably End Up Divorced and Living With My Parents. And so I pick the fight... pick pick pick pick pick... until he fights back a little and then I end up a gigantic snivelling mess on the floor, screaming so loudly that I am most likely the reason the neighbor's cookout suddenly ended and the back yard went dark. When I walked into the bedroom picking at Wes, they all appeared to be having a jolly time out there. A half hour later, they must have heard the animal wailing and fled for the safety of their apartment.
In any case, I normally reserve these meltdowns for the day before my period arrives - for the past three months it has been like clockwork - meltdown and period's arrival hand-in-hand. But yesterday was the third time that I have found out about two friends' pregnancies in one day (though Wes refuses to count it as such, because he is Mr. Literal and since I found out about one of them after midnight, he says it doesn't count). I think this really might be the final tally now - 25 babies born or conceived in the one year since I started trying.
I was freaked out. Of course. Totally out-of-my-body freaked out. The bitterness flooded on in. Whoosh.
I was at work when I found out about the first one. I ran to MacTechWitch's room to cry, but she and Mom-of-Two-Girls managed to calm me and there weren't any tears. I took deep breaths. I noted the floating feeling and just kept going. I finished my half day of work. I went to the doctor with Wes. I drank.
And then, of course, I melted down. But that's not the interesting part. Here is the interesting part:
I am completely sick of being bitter. No matter how many of my wonderful Internet friends tell me that it's OK and doesn't make me a horrible person, I hated the feeling of sitting at the house of the latest arrival last weekend, barely able to look at the baby because I was so sick with jealousy. I hated the person I saw sitting in my chair, arms crossed, snarky comments on the tip of her tongue, constantly checking the time to see if she could leave yet. I hated her.
I do not want to be her.
Last night's meltdown was some kind of last straw. You see, the latest pregnancy announcement came from an incredibly close friend. It was different to me. I could feel the overwhelming wave of rancor coming on and I just couldn't let it in. I was upset. But I didn't want to be mad. I didn't want to resent her. I wanted more than anything to be excited and happy and celebrate the fact that this person I have known for so, so long, was going to be doing this amazing thing we had talked about since we were quite young. I wanted to look forward to meeting the little thing she has made.
But how? How can a person like me, a person who prides herself on her incredible ability to hold a grudge (far beyond any reasonable person's grudge-holding limit), just let go of a year's worth of bitter build-up? Who am I without my fury?
I don't know. But I'd love to try. I refuse to be bitter about this pregnancy. I know it is going to be far more difficult than just saying it, but I am also going to try to let go of all of the year's worth of venomous thoughts. Hell, I may even try to forgive my evil condo board. And my father! Because, strangely, when I think of trying to let go of the baby bitterness, the old grudges seem to leap forward, hands waving in the air, "ME too! Me too! I want to go, too!" And they show themselves to be a long, long line, stretching into my past like a street map of disappointments. They're sick of being all cooped up in me. They seem to want to... go somewhere else.
I felt this amazing sense of curiosity with this thought. What would it be like? What would it mean? Who would I be? It's the same feeling as when I had to let go of some of my stubborn depression and sadness. I was terrified that I was no one without them, that they were what made me interesting and creative. They weren't. They still pop in for visits. Sometimes they stay for long periods of time. But I HAVE found that I am something without them. Will it be the same for grudges and bitterness?
By no means is this going to be done right away, nor is it going to work every single day. I am making no pledges. My blog will certainly still be home to the spewing of enmity you have come to know and love. But I will be making small steps. I will just try a little bit. Because I don't want to be that person. And, however crunchy new-agey silly illogical it may sound, maybe being that person is keeping good things from happening to me.
By the time I finished the sobbing and did a last email check (after midnight, as Wes will undoubtedly point out to me again), and found the news of yet another pregnancy, I didn't feel the usual rancorous wave. Instead, I actually smiled.
