No Conclusion or Effect

August 11, 2010

I had a rousing pregnancy dream.

I thought I might be pregnant and I was going to get an abortion, but I wasnt sure if I was pregnant, but if I was, I was having second thoughts about an abortion. When I got there, I told the doctor this. She was a pregnant lesbian. I told her all the reasons I thought I wasnt sure if I was pregnant and she told me how she hadnt had very many symptoms early on either.

Right before she was going to set up some equipment, I told her I would be right back. I went home to change clothes and, um, clean up, because I had forgotten. The vast majority of the dream was spent going through every piece of clothing in my closet quickly and with compulsion, unable to pick something to wear and worrying that I would get back to the doctor’s too late. I got back to the doctor’s and she told me that she had a rental property in San Francisco and whether I would like to live in San Francisco. I was very angry at her, because of course I want to live in San Fran fucking cisco. But she was just asking, like a therapist, not sharing the reason for her question. She did something to my nether regions, I left. I realized I still didnt know if I was pregnant. The dream was filled with sonogram machines and vacuum aspirators, but to no conclusion or effect.

And scene.

Welcome to my life. Don’t know if I’ll ever get pregnant, don’t know where I’m gonna live and dont ever have a thing to wear.

Went to the second interview. My pants were too tight but my toenails were freshly painted and things went well. It was much more of an interview. I was able to comfortably make clear what my preferences were in terms of the position I would like. I was informed of an opportunity to receive the training and experience to become a certified clinical addictions counselor. The woman didnt try to sell me a house or ask me about my husband.

Seriously. I have talked to two different people at the agency who have tried to rent or sell me their house. For a couple days, I didnt realize I was talking to different people and wondered why the house all the sudden had a third bedroom. Working in Appalachia is really gonna give me a run for my boundaries.


May 24, 2010

I got my period Sunday and every time I dream, people’s teeth are falling out.

Cycle Day 1

April 28, 2010

My period came today. At 9 am. Which is 7 hours after I took the pregnancy test that came back so clearly negative.

Neither Wifebian nor I could sleep last night. I woke up from a dream, heard her rustling and said something like, “Are you awake, too?” We finally sighed the collective “fuck-it”, tested negative and went back to bed. Until 6:30.

The dream that woke me was of me peeing on a pregnancy test. Except, the pregnancy test looked like a maxi pad. And when I peed, I peed my period. And I moved the little pad around between my fingers, trying to see the lines through the blood.

I havent had such prescient dreaming since my father relapsed in drug and alcohol addiction. (“Into drug and alcohol addiction” — you can tell I havent sloughed off my social worker hat for the day, yet.)

My dad and my baby. That, I can dream about.

I am still feeling some of that strange indigestion and very hungriness. I wonder if some valiant spermatozoa didnt ricochet off of some beefy egg and send some H sparks and C sparks and G sparks into my blood stream. And through to my brain.

I was on the phone today, with some triage nurse, asking if it wasnt too late to talk about Clomid and triggers shots and sonograms. They said they would call me back. But I missed the call because I was in a meeting.

I teared up listing to the message, “This is so and so calling from such and such. When you return the call, please ask for triage.”

This is not who I wanted to be.

I was going to be so fertile!

But that’s OK. It’s like in high school when I thought that you could listen to the Cure or Morrissey, but you had to pick one or the other. Or in college when I thought California was filled with crunchy nutballs and I was just so East Coast.

Sometimes my thinking is very black and white and I cling to arbitrary distinctions based on uninformed opinions.

I didnt want to be this person who has to talk to doctors because I am very healthy. I didnt want to be this person who took fertility drugs because look at these hips. I didnt want to be this person who wants children because I am not that kind of woman.

But this cycle, with the weird symptoms, the ones that led me to believe I was pregnant, brought me so close to my caring. I am now old enough to know that when I start to care about something, I should take a minute. Be vulnerable. And enjoy it.

So I did.

And now, I think I may have crossed some sort of line. Into caring. This is something I care about.

Surely, you saw this coming from a mile away.

What with my history.

My favorite part about drinking during the day is two beers in, when the leaves on the trees get so green they shimmer.