Okay, I admit it. I've completely botched this week's posts. Life had the chudspa to interrupt my blog for a few days this week. You were nice enough to log on and I gypped everyone out of a couple of days. I'm sure many are speculating that I haven't yet recovered from my drunken fourth of July stupor. I don't drink or do anything elicit. The craziest thing I do is yoga (yawn). So what excuse can I possibly have? I got myself twisted into a yoga pretzel and my husband just now found me and pulled me apart?
So there's really no excuse. I've had car issues and neck issues but who cares? I don't expect you to. I don't even care that much.
So, what were we talking about way back on Tuesday when I last posted? Oh right. Independence. When will we ever be free of this crappy infertility? When will we ever get our freedom from it?
I made mention on Tuesday that infertility is like a big fricken ball and chain attached to our our ankles. You'd think we'd all have amazing inner thighs from schlepping it around month after month (at least in one leg--the other one's deteriorating like the rest of our bodies...and minds, and souls.)
It's time we created our own fireworks. So bring on John Philip Sousa, "Donn, donnn, don don don.. Don don don don don (That was supposed to be the opening of "Stars & Stripes Forever". I spent fourth of July with a crick in my neck from an Adirondack chair. Humor me will ya?)
Well if we can't be free of our infertility just yet, maybe we can at least start some fireworks.
You know people always ask:
"What would you do if you knew you only had one more day to live?"
Well I ask:
"What would you do if you knew you only had one more day of infertility?"
(It's my version somewhere between
"What would you do if you knew you had only one more day to live?" and
"What would you do for a Klondike bar?")
So, think about it. You know you're definitely going to be pregnant tomorrow. You know it's going to be a great, carefree, fabulous pregnancy followed by as many more after that as you want all of which would be obtained as Gd had intended it: By telling your husband how cute he was and hitting the button on the adjustable bed.
So, consider and ponder and Monday we'll head into it the topic full force. And you may be thinking: "I'd call everyone I know" "I'd run out and get great maternity clothes and adorable baby clothes that I've always wanted"
I, on the other hand, would do all of those things... and yet still find time to tell several people- medical and non-medical- who had been with me along this lovely infertility journey,... what I REALLY thought of them.
Listen, I gotta go. I'd better get going on next week's posts. Making excuses about why I'm not writing is actually more exhausting than writing.
If you haven't clicked over to my latest post at Fertility Authority about: "The Worst Infertility Nurse Ever"... please do. http://fertilityauthority.com/blogger/1013368
I'll talk with ya again on Monday.