I had my annual gyn appointment this morning. I've been seeing the same doctor since I was 18, and I like her a lot. But could we get some sensitivity training up in this joint?
The minute I walk in that place, I feel defensive and inadequate. Being in the waiting room this morning reminded me how incredibly difficult it was to go there over the past three years. As you might expect, there are a lot of pregnant women waiting around at the gyn's office ... and as someone who desperately wanted a baby and was having no success making one, it was hard to sit there in their midst. (I actually think they have a second waiting room for the emotionally fragile, but maybe they save it for miscarriages, because no one ever offered it to me. Was I supposed to ask?)
Now that I have the Bear, the waiting room isn't as painful. I do feel a little bit raw whenever someone tells me that she is expecting, but I'm pretty much used to that at this point, and I can hardly avoid it. I'll have a whole long lifetime of living with this twinge, so I might as well ignore it.
But it was a quick shake of salt in the wound when the nurse asked me, amid the long line of health questions, what form of contraception I was using. I said "none," and she said, "Are you trying to get pregnant?" I didn't know how to answer that. I would love to get pregnant, but after four years of not conceiving I don't much think it's likely. And while we aren't taking any efforts to prevent a pregnancy - why bother? - compared to what we were doing two years ago I would hardly say we're "trying" to get pregnant.
And you know, she's standing there looking at my chart. Does she not see the stuff about the hysterosalpingogram and the records request from the fertility doctor and whatever notes my gyn has made about this over the years? Read ahead, woman, that's all I'm saying. Instead I had to try to sum it all up in a sentence or two, which ended in, "... so we gave up and adopted." And I got a big smile, with "That's when it always happens!"
Really? Really, Nurse Betty? Can I get that in writing? Because you are about the 500th person to tell me that, and although I appreciate the sentiment, (1) you are full of shit, and even though you are standing there with my entire gynecological history at your fingertips, you obviously don't know any more about my fertility circumstances than the last person to say it, and (2) this knee-jerk response is a big part of why your waiting room gets my hackles up - because you think my motherhood doesn't count since I didn't go through labor and nausea and swollen ankles.
I'd say it's already happened, thank you. No, I didn't have the weight gain or the morning sickness. But I waited a lot longer than nine months for my child, and I can guaran-damn-tee you that I suffered for him just as much if not more than any of the women in your waiting room.
/OFF Julia Sugarbaker Rant/
Friday, August 17, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Twinkle: Haters Gonna Hate
You know, as much as I really don't want to go through a fourth pregnancy right now, or even think about paying for private school or college for four children, I really think we are going to have to have one, out of spite.
Fun Sink is just totally awful about it. Some random asked me about whether or not we were "done" or will "go for a boy," and, you know, I was just making conversation. First off, I hate the "going for a boy" question--why can't three (or four, or however many) girls be enough for people? I assure you, if we "go for a fourth" it will be because we want a fourth. Not because we necessarily want a boy. I like to clarify that to people.
So this random asked me if we wanted a fourth, and if we were going for a boy. Not knowing (or really caring, or paying attention at all) that Fun Sink was within earshot, I said, "Oh, we might go for a fourth, but it won't necessarily be for a boy--I'm not sure we'd get one. If we do it, it'll just be because we want a fourth." I turned around at that exact moment and saw Fun Sink do a full-body shudder--the same visceral reaction of disgust that someone might have from, say, gulping rancid fish through a straw. Not what you'd expect from an enthusiastic grandmother. She muttered something bitchy under her breath, and my FIL laughed, and then I'm sure she went into a finger-pointing diatribe, right in my FIL's face. What else could he do but laugh, really? I don't blame him--I'm sure it was self-preservation, and I doubt he really considers it his business. But how hurtful is her reaction to someone who is eight months pregnant?
I don't even know for sure if I have it in me to go for a fourth child, even though I have always wanted four. I know I'd love having such a big family, but the thought of another pregnancy and then another infant stage after this one is just exhausting to me. But every eye roll or full-body wretch makes me all the more determined to do it. If she would just control herself a tiny bit, I probably wouldn't even seriously consider it. But I need her to know that Mr. Twinkle and I make the reproductive decisions around here, and it really is none of her damn business.
Mary Lou told me I could have twins next time around, if there is a next time. As cool as twins would have been two pregnancies ago, or one pregnancy ago, or this pregnancy, I know that five children would be beyond the limit I can do or want to do. So I guess MIL can thank Mary Lou for that warning--although y'all know she'd think consorting with clairvoyants is ridiculously frivolous and a big waste of time and money. When's our next Mary Lou party, again? I feel like stirring the pot, somehow, and unfortunately I can't get pregnant again for at least another six months.
My stick figure family is going to be off the hook.
Edited to add: I don't really have a stick figure family. Just wanted to clarify, in case any randoms happen upon this blog and mistake me for a stick figure family type. Although, if Fun Sink hates big stick figure families as much as she hates big real families, I may have to reconsider my position.
Fun Sink is just totally awful about it. Some random asked me about whether or not we were "done" or will "go for a boy," and, you know, I was just making conversation. First off, I hate the "going for a boy" question--why can't three (or four, or however many) girls be enough for people? I assure you, if we "go for a fourth" it will be because we want a fourth. Not because we necessarily want a boy. I like to clarify that to people.
So this random asked me if we wanted a fourth, and if we were going for a boy. Not knowing (or really caring, or paying attention at all) that Fun Sink was within earshot, I said, "Oh, we might go for a fourth, but it won't necessarily be for a boy--I'm not sure we'd get one. If we do it, it'll just be because we want a fourth." I turned around at that exact moment and saw Fun Sink do a full-body shudder--the same visceral reaction of disgust that someone might have from, say, gulping rancid fish through a straw. Not what you'd expect from an enthusiastic grandmother. She muttered something bitchy under her breath, and my FIL laughed, and then I'm sure she went into a finger-pointing diatribe, right in my FIL's face. What else could he do but laugh, really? I don't blame him--I'm sure it was self-preservation, and I doubt he really considers it his business. But how hurtful is her reaction to someone who is eight months pregnant?
I don't even know for sure if I have it in me to go for a fourth child, even though I have always wanted four. I know I'd love having such a big family, but the thought of another pregnancy and then another infant stage after this one is just exhausting to me. But every eye roll or full-body wretch makes me all the more determined to do it. If she would just control herself a tiny bit, I probably wouldn't even seriously consider it. But I need her to know that Mr. Twinkle and I make the reproductive decisions around here, and it really is none of her damn business.
Mary Lou told me I could have twins next time around, if there is a next time. As cool as twins would have been two pregnancies ago, or one pregnancy ago, or this pregnancy, I know that five children would be beyond the limit I can do or want to do. So I guess MIL can thank Mary Lou for that warning--although y'all know she'd think consorting with clairvoyants is ridiculously frivolous and a big waste of time and money. When's our next Mary Lou party, again? I feel like stirring the pot, somehow, and unfortunately I can't get pregnant again for at least another six months.
My stick figure family is going to be off the hook.
Edited to add: I don't really have a stick figure family. Just wanted to clarify, in case any randoms happen upon this blog and mistake me for a stick figure family type. Although, if Fun Sink hates big stick figure families as much as she hates big real families, I may have to reconsider my position.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Julep: In a nutshell
When we picked the Bear up at Mr-Mama's last night, she had a present for me: a lovely white linen/ eyelet skirt from Talbots, which she handed to me saying, "it will have to be altered." Translation: it's not my size, but she bought it for me anyway.
I said, "That is so nice of you, but I already have a white linen skirt." (She knows that - she was with me when I bought it. I also have a white eyelet dress, as she knows because she shortened the straps for me.) She said, "Well, I can't return it."
I looked at Mr. J and he muttered sotto voce, "Just take it home." So I did.
Anyone want a brand-new skirt, size ten, tags on?
I said, "That is so nice of you, but I already have a white linen skirt." (She knows that - she was with me when I bought it. I also have a white eyelet dress, as she knows because she shortened the straps for me.) She said, "Well, I can't return it."
I looked at Mr. J and he muttered sotto voce, "Just take it home." So I did.
Anyone want a brand-new skirt, size ten, tags on?
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Julep: The Unbearable Flakiness of Being (my mil)
Mr- Mama is supposed to watch the Bear on Tuesday afternoons. It was HER idea to take a regular day, back when I was headed back to work. I believe she decided this simply because the Bear was going to the J-Mama's house on Wednesday afternoons and she didn't want to get lapped in the Grandmother 500.
Y'all know I've always had dinner with my mom on Wednesday nights - which is the night for Mr. J's sailing league. He leaves well before I could get home from work, so Mr. J drops the Bear off with his grandma around 4 or 4:30 so that he can get to the river, and they hang out for 90 minutes or so until I arrive from work. We had a few kinks to work out of this system when we started it back in February, but since that time it's gone very smoothly. J-Mama - who works well over 40 hours a week as a rule anyway - doesn't schedule meetings or classes or anything else after 4 pm on Wednesdays so nothing interferes with her time with the Bear.
Mr-Mama is supposed to take the Bear by 2 pm on Tuesdays. Again, this was HER choice. Mr-Mama answers to absolutely no one but herself when it comes to her schedule. She has no boss and no obligations. Yet in the past six months, I can't even count the times she has dropped the ball on poor Mr. J. She's made doctor's appointments for 3:30 pm on a Tuesday. She's been out of town for the weekend and decided to stay through the middle of the week. Today, she's playing golf. Mr. J has a dentist appointment scheduled at 2 pm - a drilling, not a cleaning. She thinks he ought to just take the Bear with him to the dentist and she'll come over there to pick him up whenever she gets done at the country club. Seriously? Seriously.
Ugh, this woman. At any age, a child should be able to count on his parent to do what he or she has promised to do. That should be a given. While Mr-Mama is probably a lost cause - after 55 years of unfettered self-indulgence - I hope that she is driving Mr. J sufficiently nuts that he will squelch his own flaky tendencies and become more reliable himself. Character is not a constant: it can be changed. As the J-Mama told me many many times while she was engaged in the laborious process of raising me by hand, "It may be how you are, but it's not OK to be that way."
Y'all know I've always had dinner with my mom on Wednesday nights - which is the night for Mr. J's sailing league. He leaves well before I could get home from work, so Mr. J drops the Bear off with his grandma around 4 or 4:30 so that he can get to the river, and they hang out for 90 minutes or so until I arrive from work. We had a few kinks to work out of this system when we started it back in February, but since that time it's gone very smoothly. J-Mama - who works well over 40 hours a week as a rule anyway - doesn't schedule meetings or classes or anything else after 4 pm on Wednesdays so nothing interferes with her time with the Bear.
Mr-Mama is supposed to take the Bear by 2 pm on Tuesdays. Again, this was HER choice. Mr-Mama answers to absolutely no one but herself when it comes to her schedule. She has no boss and no obligations. Yet in the past six months, I can't even count the times she has dropped the ball on poor Mr. J. She's made doctor's appointments for 3:30 pm on a Tuesday. She's been out of town for the weekend and decided to stay through the middle of the week. Today, she's playing golf. Mr. J has a dentist appointment scheduled at 2 pm - a drilling, not a cleaning. She thinks he ought to just take the Bear with him to the dentist and she'll come over there to pick him up whenever she gets done at the country club. Seriously? Seriously.
Ugh, this woman. At any age, a child should be able to count on his parent to do what he or she has promised to do. That should be a given. While Mr-Mama is probably a lost cause - after 55 years of unfettered self-indulgence - I hope that she is driving Mr. J sufficiently nuts that he will squelch his own flaky tendencies and become more reliable himself. Character is not a constant: it can be changed. As the J-Mama told me many many times while she was engaged in the laborious process of raising me by hand, "It may be how you are, but it's not OK to be that way."
Monday, August 13, 2012
Julep: On escaping from high school
I'm in solidarity with Twinkle on the high school friend moving home. There are very few many people from high school that I keep up with - and even fewer that I want to spend time with, even on an irregular basis.
One of the girls I do like, who lives out of town and is all over the Facebook, is apparently coming home for a couple of weeks at the end of August. She is planning a get-together event for girls from our class -- some of whom I enjoy, but many of whom I don't care if I ever see again. And I am very much on the fence about whether or not I am going to go.
I would quite like to see the out-of-towner, but I fear being stuck at the far end of the table with two or three of the ones who live here. Not only will they bore me to death for the one evening, but I am already sweaty-palmed wondering how to get out of the inevitable invitation to get together again. I am vaguely aware that about a dozen girls I went to high school with have a standing dinner engagement. Over the years, there have been a few invitations for me to participate, once by someone I do like and was trying to catch up with. I still said no. I like her, but the rest of them are scorchingly dull.
I can't say I had a horrible high school experience, but I really didn't come into my own until college. I probably wasn't the best version of me in high school either, and it's probably highly unfair to judge others today based on who they were almost twenty years ago. But you know, there's only so much time.
One of the girls I do like, who lives out of town and is all over the Facebook, is apparently coming home for a couple of weeks at the end of August. She is planning a get-together event for girls from our class -- some of whom I enjoy, but many of whom I don't care if I ever see again. And I am very much on the fence about whether or not I am going to go.
I would quite like to see the out-of-towner, but I fear being stuck at the far end of the table with two or three of the ones who live here. Not only will they bore me to death for the one evening, but I am already sweaty-palmed wondering how to get out of the inevitable invitation to get together again. I am vaguely aware that about a dozen girls I went to high school with have a standing dinner engagement. Over the years, there have been a few invitations for me to participate, once by someone I do like and was trying to catch up with. I still said no. I like her, but the rest of them are scorchingly dull.
I can't say I had a horrible high school experience, but I really didn't come into my own until college. I probably wasn't the best version of me in high school either, and it's probably highly unfair to judge others today based on who they were almost twenty years ago. But you know, there's only so much time.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Twinkle: I'm Selfish and Awful
I love being an adult for a lot of reasons, and one of the biggest ones is that I get to choose my own friends, instead of being stuck with whatever people happen to be in my class at school. I prefer interesting ones, who enjoy food and wine at local restaurants, and bring their own hilarious perspectives to our conversations. I enjoy each and every one of you girls, and I'm thankful that I have such interesting, fun friends.
I feel like my time is so, so limited--I don't get to do half of the stuff I want to do with you girls. Even chatting on the phone is next to impossible. I know it's just my phase of life and I'll eventually have more time to devote to social outings and YWC events (I hope), but the point is I feel like I'm already stretched to the limit with the people I find interesting. I really, really, really don't have room in my life for the boring ones.
And I am an awful person, because I have a high school friend who's moving back to town, and I don't know what to do about her. She bored me to death even back then, but she's sweet and I do like her. She would not survive 30 seconds in a Classic Cocktail hour, bless her heart. Bringing her into the group is not an option.
I am having an existential crisis over this and Mr. Twinkle does not understand, and I guess I should expect that Mr. Obligation would not be much help in this situation. Not hanging out with anyone from high school is a luxury I have taken for granted all these years, apparently. Now I'm going to be thrust back into that boring, mind-numbing East End BS. I will probably end up drinking a strawberry daiquiri out of a footlong fluorescent glass at a TGI Friday's before all is said and done, and I'm just really, really not ready to go to that place, either literally or figuratively.
I feel guilty because this girl is twice divorced (I'm guessing here...all I have to go on is one "I'm moving back" text message received at 9:30 tonight) and she probably doesn't have a whole lot of girlfriends here as she hasn't lived here since high school. I do have a lot of girlfriends, but I know she could not hang with the group. I could sponsor her for YWC, but she's the kind of girl I'd have to take care of all the time, and the beauty of YWC to me is that it's a safe space--I can go there, mingle with my friends, talk to everyone, and not have to worry about if someone's having a good time or not because all of you are big girls who can take care of yourselves at a party. If she does have friends, they're from my high school, and I assure you they're no one I have any desire to hang out with.
I just don't have the time to deal with it, and it makes me feel awful. I should want to be her friend and be willing to invite her along, but I selfishly don't want to babysit. As it is, it's just one more thing to deal with. It's hard enough to balance my children and my social life, and this will cut into one or the other of those things as she's not going to blend seamlessly into the group. It's just one more obligation, and the guilt that obligation brings with it.
Thanks for letting me vent...P.S. I loved Julep's Bronie post. That picture I posted is awesome but I still have no idea who the guy is! Perhaps my new old high school friend will remember, but, sad to say, I'm not sure she'd get the humor of it. I am awful. Awful. But it's true--she wouldn't.
I feel like my time is so, so limited--I don't get to do half of the stuff I want to do with you girls. Even chatting on the phone is next to impossible. I know it's just my phase of life and I'll eventually have more time to devote to social outings and YWC events (I hope), but the point is I feel like I'm already stretched to the limit with the people I find interesting. I really, really, really don't have room in my life for the boring ones.
And I am an awful person, because I have a high school friend who's moving back to town, and I don't know what to do about her. She bored me to death even back then, but she's sweet and I do like her. She would not survive 30 seconds in a Classic Cocktail hour, bless her heart. Bringing her into the group is not an option.
I am having an existential crisis over this and Mr. Twinkle does not understand, and I guess I should expect that Mr. Obligation would not be much help in this situation. Not hanging out with anyone from high school is a luxury I have taken for granted all these years, apparently. Now I'm going to be thrust back into that boring, mind-numbing East End BS. I will probably end up drinking a strawberry daiquiri out of a footlong fluorescent glass at a TGI Friday's before all is said and done, and I'm just really, really not ready to go to that place, either literally or figuratively.
I feel guilty because this girl is twice divorced (I'm guessing here...all I have to go on is one "I'm moving back" text message received at 9:30 tonight) and she probably doesn't have a whole lot of girlfriends here as she hasn't lived here since high school. I do have a lot of girlfriends, but I know she could not hang with the group. I could sponsor her for YWC, but she's the kind of girl I'd have to take care of all the time, and the beauty of YWC to me is that it's a safe space--I can go there, mingle with my friends, talk to everyone, and not have to worry about if someone's having a good time or not because all of you are big girls who can take care of yourselves at a party. If she does have friends, they're from my high school, and I assure you they're no one I have any desire to hang out with.
I just don't have the time to deal with it, and it makes me feel awful. I should want to be her friend and be willing to invite her along, but I selfishly don't want to babysit. As it is, it's just one more thing to deal with. It's hard enough to balance my children and my social life, and this will cut into one or the other of those things as she's not going to blend seamlessly into the group. It's just one more obligation, and the guilt that obligation brings with it.
Thanks for letting me vent...P.S. I loved Julep's Bronie post. That picture I posted is awesome but I still have no idea who the guy is! Perhaps my new old high school friend will remember, but, sad to say, I'm not sure she'd get the humor of it. I am awful. Awful. But it's true--she wouldn't.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Julep: Treasure The Bronies
I'm bringing this back to the top of the blog since Twinkle had forgotten it completely when I mentioned it at the Classic.
http://adventuresofdaddyrabbit.blogspot.com/2010/04/twinkle-hes-single-ladies.html
and HERE is the article about "BronyCon." I swore I was not making this up!
By the way, I skimmed back through ages of posts to find it - and I must say, we are some funny, funny girls. I am so glad we have this back channel to vent.
http://adventuresofdaddyrabbit.blogspot.com/2010/04/twinkle-hes-single-ladies.html
and HERE is the article about "BronyCon." I swore I was not making this up!
By the way, I skimmed back through ages of posts to find it - and I must say, we are some funny, funny girls. I am so glad we have this back channel to vent.
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