Elegy to my belly button and two other gloomy things
During an early exam, my RE was doing something in the region of my abdomen and suddenly exclaimed, You have a perfect belly button! I was surprised–if I’d ever thought about it before, I’d figured I had a pretty average belly button. I mean, I’m glad I have the kind that goes in, but that’s as much as I’ve considered my navel. The RE was really impressed. He had the med student come over and look, and the two of them stood there over my belly button, nodding and agreeing, Yeah, uh huh, perfect. I guess he sees a lot of belly buttons, so I left feeling some small satisfaction. I have a perfect belly button! This morning I removed the remaining bit of bandage over my belly button, which I haven’t seen in almost two weeks. And it is perfect no more. Now it looks like Frankenstein’s belly button (except he wouldn’t have needed a belly button, but you know). It doesn’t look the same anymore. It’s no longer perfect. I burst into tears. It just made me so sad. I know I sound like a crazy person, but I feel like so many things have been taken from me in the past year and a half, and now my erstwhile perfect belly button! Something I didn’t even appreciate until a few months ago. And I know parenthood is about sacrifice, so I’d better get used to it. But DAMN.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to my ruined belly button.
The second reason for my crap mood is work-related. I’ve been working on a study for about a year and needed to run one last control experiment before writing the project up. I was finally able to analyze the data from the control experiment and it was a total bust–the effect I obtained was the precise opposite of what I’d hypothesized. The project is now in ruins. I don’t know where to go from here, and I feel completely unfit for this career. I know logically that this cycle is part of my job, and part of other kinds of jobs too. It strongly resembles Twangy‘s graph of the creative process, because it is, after all, a creative process. I’ll find a way to be re-inspired. Maybe. Or not. It just hurts so much, and in such a familiar way. You put your soul into something. You wait, you hope. You do everything you can. Little tweaks here and there. The moment of truth arrives, and…negative. I feel like I can’t experience this set of emotions any more. They’re so boring and painful.
Finally, I’m scared about tomorrow’s appointment and I have no reason to be. Which makes me think what I’m really afraid of is getting back in the TTC saddle. These past months have not been relaxing or enjoyable, but at least I’ve not had the acute sense of failure that comes with not getting pregnant. Tomorrow I’ll know where I’m headed, and have a clearer picture of exactly when I can start experiencing that sense of failure again.
I’m just so fucking sad. However, not too sad to say thanks for the fashion advice! (I’m super impressed you recognized the fabric, Trinity!) I’ll try to implement your suggestions and will get back to you. Cause I know you’ll be dying of anticipation.