he must have dreamed about Tiger

(original post March 15)

I just got back from the IUI--you know, turkey baster. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't spectacular and pleasant. Then again, shoving thin plastic up your yin yang can't be all sunshine and roses. It was pinchy at best but not horrible.

I waited 2.5 weeks for this moment and while it's not the most romantic thing, one would like to cherish the feeling of hope, happiness, anxiousness, and wonder. Instead? I could have tucked and rolled my husband out of the car as I was dropping him off for work.

Seeing I'm super stressed with this stuff and work (a tale for another day) on top of the Clomid FINALLY kicking in super bitch mode, I'm not the best person to be around right now. Yesterday I almost had a melt down because ice skating times were jacked up and we missed it. I know...stupid. But yesterday for me was my last 'hoorah' and I wanted it to go smoothly. Dinner, skating, a little wine (since I can't drink from today on in), and just a nice night. Instead, waiting 45 min to sit down at dinner, not hungry so I ate a small side salad of lettuce, carrots, and cheese. Wine was semi ok but high price. Skating was over by the time we got there because I thought it said it started at 9pm. Nope. It finished at 9pm. So the last ditched effort by my man was taking me to the local wine shop--and it was closed. I just lost it and cried. I know I sound like a baby but I was just a hormonal train wreck.

So today was going to be my better day since it was baby making day. We got up, got there, he did his 'biz-nez' in the back room comes out and goes "hmm I don't think I gave enough." And once again bitch mode switched on and I was insenstive with the comment of "great. Nothing goes right anyway so this figures." And of course, that gives a response of throwing a magazine down and whispering shouting because we're in a doc's office and didn't want them to hear. He left for the other partitioned room and I just read my magazines because when you act difficult with me, I shut down and give two shits about anything. Yea. I know. Woo-oohhh super bitch.

I apologized later as we waited and gave him a shoulder rub. I am just having a hard time seeing his stress part of this because after all, his parts are easy. Beat off, jizz in a cup. My parts are pills, needles, a bloated stomach so I look pregnant (seriously, I am a marsupial right now), and anxiety. So I'm not the best "there there" pat on the back girl when someone says "hmm I didn't jizz enough."

We get in the office and I am so scared. I didn't want the same pain as the other test so I warn the doc about the cervix issue. She takes a gander and goes "wow, it is super high and posterior but you have to relax because I can't even get to it like this." Great. So I relax and she puts it in. It feels pinching, a little like a slow needle but not like the last time which is something I'll never forget. I feel a little crampy as the "boys" get injected in and we're all set. Oh and all that "not enough jizz" bitching before? His small sample was 50 million. They would have been fine with 10-20million. So once again, his 'my poor swimmers' turns into 'woo hoo, I am a jizzmill god!".

As we go home I'm filled with hope and anxiousness. Then the little rain on the parade happens.

"I didn't want to pressure you but so and so is pregnant."

I feel a little 'meh' because they only tried 3 months if that and she's 3 years older than me. I'm happy for them and move on.

Then the moment of the downpour.

"Now don't get upset but you know, I want you to realize that I won't give up golf with the baby. I'll just have to adjust my schedule to early morning Sundays or something since I'll watch the kid during the week."

Inside voice?...."That's your fucking priority? GOLF?? I take pills, get poked, get things shoved way up me, get cramps, have a belly like Buddah, have my body go to shit when the kid finally comes out, go to work after 3 months, worry about how we're going to pay for all of this, and forget about my good times because I'll doubt I'll have the time to do shit, and you're worried about GOLF???" And insert primal scream here.

Outside voice? "Oh ok. You know, you need to figure out your priorities because I never said you had to give it up but the first year of our lives is going to be hard and sacrifices so get ready, Bub."

As I pull up to the doorway to drop him off, all I think is "tuck and roll baby. Tuck and roll".

Grrrrrr men can be so stupid!!!

So I went home, got the pork shoulder ready for pulled pork, cleaned the house, and rented Mystery Alaska to get my rocks off with Russell Crowe. Fuck your golf. These are my priorities for the day.

Just he wait. One day while I'm hanging with the girls, I'll proudly hand over the little one to him, diaper and formula in hand, make sure it's sunny and 85 degrees and go "see ya!" And hopefully the girl/boy will be such a delight that he'll go "Golf? Who cares about golf. Tiger got nothing on this kid." And realize that his happiness, importance, and internal grace is in his arms, not in his hands as a 9 iron.

The big dummy.