October 30, 2012
This shouldn’t come as a surprise. I frequently think too much. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, you know. And I am a regular Jack of All Trades. (You know, and master of none. Except there are some things that I am really good at, so the second part doesn’t completely apply.) And because I think too much, my brain opens up to what Shel Silverstein so brilliantly described in his poem “The What-Ifs”. What if I have a miscarriage? What if it’s ectopic? What if there are horrible birth defects? My mom worked in special ed; there are way too many things I can come up with to possibly go wrong. I suppose my one consolation to that is knowing that she, too, is awake at three in the morning thinking of these things.
But that’s not what I was overthinking this morning. I’m still feeling rather blah from Saturday. I’d say morning sickness, but I know it’s too early for that. Nonetheless, I have a small plate of saltines on my bedside table. And they made cry. Yes, because I was thinking too much. What do people who can’t have gluten eat when they feel sick? They can’t have saltines. Do they make gluten-free saltines? If they don’t, those poor gluten-free people!
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, especially after my post about the wishing wells, Jenny does know about the insemination on Saturday. It’s not just me and my immediate family. I wasn’t sure if my parents were going to be back from my brother’s before my appointment on Friday, so I asked Jenny if she might be available. She had to be to work by 10, so the timing wasn’t good. She was a little disappointed because she really wishes she could help get me pregnant. I love my friends!
My boss knows, too. I think he’s more stressed about the two-week wait than I am. He’s a doctor, but he still thinks that it’s far too long. I’m trying to stay in the moment, which is probably how my brain managed to go off on a tangent about whether or not gluten-free saltines exist. (I know. I know. I could just Google it, but where’s the fun in that?) But I do have to confess that next week seems about seven years away. I just need to focus on the fact that it’s nearly November and I still have no clue what I’m going to do for NaNoWriMo. Breathe, work, read, sleep. Don’t think.