Magical Thinking

13 Jul

There’s a crapload of crazy that goes on in your head when you want to get pregnant and can’t. In my profession, magical thinking can be a sign of a personality disorder, an inability to face reality. Maybe there should be a category for Infertile Personality Disorder in the next edition of the DSM (Diagnostic & Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). I would definitely meet the criteria.

I get into a fender bender. It’s my fault, but I suspect the person in front of me was drunk. There was erratic driving, sudden braking, and I was too close. They speed away, (running a light in the process) and the lucky upshot is that I am responsible for my car only. I don’t file a claim to avoid losing my good driver discount, and with my deductible, it just doesn’t seem worth it. We pay out of pocket, and I think: This is awful. But hey! It means I am FOR SURE getting pregnant this month, because it’s a sign that things are about to turn around.

Around the same time as this shitty little financial hiccup, we make our appointment with Dr. Good Looking, and we have to wait weeks to gain entry into his hallowed fertility cave. Despite my hopes that we would be canceling this expensive consultation, I know we HAVE to go. Not because it will be enlightening, and frankly, it’s time to step it up; but because I will find out I am pregnant that very cycle.  By seeing an expert, I am announcing to the world my intention of becoming a mother. And the world is going to take note.

A week before my appointment, I get a call from new doctor’s office saying they need to change the time. Fine. But I’m starting to wonder if someone is trying to tell me something. A few days later, I get another call (this time from Dr. Good Looking personally – nice touch)  saying they have to move my appointment yet again, now back to its original time.  I had since made plans for that afternoon, and spend the next day wondering if the world is suggesting that this hour of my life will be the biggest waste of money. Why?  Because I am already pregnant, and my friends Clear Blue Easy and First Response just don’t know it yet.

I keep the appointment, even at its new inconvenient time.  A few days later, we leave on a trip to see family on the other side of the country. I am due to get my period any day. Well,  I WON’T get it, because I am surrounded by all kinds of family love and gushiness and that would be the perfect time to find out I was adding to the tribe, no? Foiled again. At a festive barbecue where some of my favorite aunts, uncles and cousins have gathered, the only thing gushing is my vagina.

We get back home and I am scheduled to have my first IUI. It  gets canceled because of missed ovulation. Well, this is my month for SURE. Right?

Today  I notice a pretty bad scrape and dent (some jackass apparently doesn’t know how to get out of a parallel parking spot) on the SAME bumper I replaced on my car a few months ago. I am very upset. I look for the note with their apology and contact information. Shockingly, it isn’t there. But maybe my car is taking one for the team?!  The universe is sending out a sign that cars are not important. I will soon be with CHILD.

Will it ever end? Probably not. It’s one of the many predictable things about this ride.

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