Hasa Diga Eebowai

November 9, 2012

I would like to announce that I have nothing to announce. I guess I’m not terribly surprised. I mean, the chances that it was going to work were low. I’m not terribly surprised, but I am still sad. And clearly, the universe was completely uninterested in life today. The universe could have done something quite grand and taken a life while granting one, but it was only in the mood to take.

I should probably go back to the beginning for you. Then you can cry with me, and not because I’m not pregnant. That’s not the news that made me cry today.

When I was first considering embarking on this project, one of my gay friends said he might be interested in some day having a baby with me. Unfortunately, my “some day” turned out to be sooner than his. And we’ve talked about it. I’ve told him that it’s okay. I’m not hurt. Honestly, the custody arrangements are going to be a lot easier to manage the way I really am trying. And when I walked into the lab for my blood draw this morning, who should I see sitting behind the reception desk? I haven’t seen him since February. He asked how it was going. I said I’d find out today. (Thank you, HIPAA! I can confide in him, and he can’t tell anyone I was there!) He said he was sending good thoughts my way because he knows how much I want this. And, yes, it was hard not to cry at that love. (PMS? Maybe that should have been a sign. Do women get weepy when they’re newly pregnant?)

I believe I’ve said this before, but I will say it again. For those of us who have needle phobias, the advantage of going to a hospital lab is that your blood is drawn by a phlebotomist who does the same thing all day. She’s really good. She’s really fast. She’s as close to painless as can be. And I was brave and went all by myself. And she saw me shielding my eyes and told me something very interesting. She can’t look when she’s getting her blood drawn either. She said she could draw blood all day, but as soon as the needle had to go into her vein, she couldn’t handle it. I’m impressed. I couldn’t do her job.

It was early afternoon when the clinic finally called with my results. Negative, in case you didn’t figure it out from everything I wrote above. So. He finally met my request. And I still have a vial from the sperm bank in their freezer. I don’t really want to take FSH, but I’ve spent the past two weeks becoming resigned to the possibility. I was hoping to get an appointment for consultation on Monday, but the earliest opening is Tuesday at 10. This is an absolutely lousy time from my perspective. It’s too early to bother going in to work before and too late to bother going into work after. I’ve put in for PTO for the entire day. (And if I pick up some flex time, accounting will use that. PTO and overtime don’t mix.) And the staff really is amazing. Before Carla passed me back to the front desk to schedule my appointment, she asked if I wanted to talk to my mom first. She didn’t exactly say it, but it was clear she wanted to make sure my mom would be available before I made the appointment. I told her she would be.

And then I called my mom to tell her to clear her schedule for Tuesday morning. And that’s when I got the really bad news. My brother is an engineer. In college, he participated in this annual robot competition. The wife of one of his bot competition partners was diagnosed with a brain tumor several years ago. She wasn’t expected to survive, but she did. And then, recently, the tumor came back. And this time, there was nothing they could do. And today she died. That’s when I started to cry. And while it’s true that they had more years together than they ever expected, it still, well, sucks.

I did not call my boss with the news.

When I got in my car to drive home, I was in no mood for what either NPR affiliate I have programmed had to play. (Okay, I have three NPR affiliates programmed on my car radio, but that’s because I drive to East Lansing regularly.) So I hit the CD button. The Book of Mormon soundtrack started to play. And I sang along at the top of my lungs. And I cried. Hasa diga eebowai. Who would have thought that song could be truly cathartic? It was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. I’m not pregnant and a friend’s wife died. Hasa diga eebowai.

RIP Cathy.

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