In the fall, I usually teach a small class in which I work with a co-instructor. We’ve worked together since my first semester here (with the exception of last fall), but she’s from a different unit at Mediocre Institution, so I don’t see her otherwise. She’s a great woman. She’s also a fellow infertile. This emerged immediately because she’s got an adopted son who is a different ethnicity, and she chooses to explain that up front. She knows about my situation because she’s nosy and kept asking me when we were going to try. (Good to know IF doesn’t cure people of that annoying habit.) So when we started trying I told her, and now it’s pretty obvious that things are not working out.
We just met up for a pre-semester planning session, and we updated each other on the personal front as well. Her husband is dying, so that’s awesome for her, while I’m staring down the barrel of IVF. While I normally prefer to keep my personal life very separate from my professional life, I find that I’m really glad to have someone who knows my situation, and will be sympathetic in a way no other kind of woman could if some weeks I am a complete mess.
On the other hand, she’s also one of those people who got pregnant while finalizing adoption proceedings. Those situations must come with all kinds of complex emotions that I can’t begin to understand, but some of her comments to me do have a slight “just relax” or “give yourself over to God” flavor. So having her know my situation might also be rather frustrating. We’ll see.
IUI tomorrow morning, barring unforeseen complications. I think my egg is hanging out around my appendix right now (I have this whole theory about my eggs never being taken up) so this is all totally pointless, but you know me–I’ll do anything to have my cervix assaulted with the Extra Pokey Catheter.
Also, I won’t torment those of you on fatless, dairyless, wheatless diets any more with photos of delicious delicacies, but those of you who want to gorge your faces on sweets can find recipes here.