Last Thursday began the first round of our testing to see WHAT ELSE we could be up against, we were having his semen analysis and part of my bloodwork done. I think my husband had a little pent-up frustration you could say after our moratorium on sex for a few days. Actually, after the previous week, I think it would have happened anyway, however, you know how you want to do something only because you know you can't? Yeah, that made it a little difficult on BOTH of us.
Anyway, nothing exciting happened, I made it to the lab with the little cup in the RE issued brown paper bag without a hitch. I was worried I'd get caught in traffic or something else dramatic would foil our plans and we'd have to repeat the test much to our disappointment. I was a little embarrassed walking in with my little paper bag, but four vials of blood out of my right arm later, I had survived.
There was a pregnant girl in there with her boyfriend/husband/baby daddy whatever. They were dressed like Nirvana fans would in the early 90s or if we were in say, Seattle maybe? She was taking the glucose test and I heard her say something about having done that before. She couldn't have been older than I am, if so, not by much. So she possibly could have 2 kids or more and here I am, late in Cycle #13 and can't get pregnant.
Neigther one of them seemed very happy or excited -- maybe it was just a bad day, I don't know. In the hour I sat there, I didn't ever catch a single smile out of the two of them. I know its completely irrational to expect anyone pregnant to be estatic every minute of every day, but I don't know what drives me crazier - sad pregnant women, or obnoxiously happy pregnant women! I guess both are a punch to the babymaker in their own ways.
"But the struggles make you stronger...and the changes make you wise. And happiness has its own way of taking its sweet time....life ain't always beautiful, but its a beautiful ride." - Gary Allen, Life Ain't Always Beautiful
1 comment:
a girl came into my library the other day to get a card, pregnant as all get out. Turns out she was SIXTEEN years old and couldn't get a card w/o a parent and when she said she was MARRIED (I kinda had a little heart attack), I told her her husband would have to come in. People like THAT make me sick. Yucky yucky yuck. I also do not like happy pregnant women who want to show off their bellies and angry pregnant women who kvetch about being pregnant. STFU! :)
Ok, enough ranting on YOUR blog. Sorry about that!
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