The One Minute Pregnancy

For one minute I thought I was pregnant. It was sublime.

Then I reread the test results. I'm not pregnant.

After not being pregnant for 14 years, you'd think I'd be better at it.

All through my teen years various boyfriends convinced me that they would be the one who got me up on water skis. Why did I think the results would be different year after year? I suppose partly to impress the boy in the boat, but mostly it was sheer stubbornness. Sometimes that's a good quality. Other times it gets you a lake water douche.

A short stroll through my (in)fertility history: 3 miscarriages, 1 high risk although ultimately successful pregnancy 15 years ago, never got knocked up again. Some years we actively tried more than others. I saw doctors, I read, I filled in enough temp charts to wallpaper a small condo. Pursued adoption. Gave up on it.

I switched from medical doctors to therapists. I grieved, I raged, I fought it, I cried and cried and cried. I've always been deeply grateful for my one child, I'll always wonder what life would have been like with more.

I came to a place of acceptance. Not a peaceful, inspirational, movie-of-the-week acceptance. More like finally saying "enough is enough" to being dragged around behind a boat wondering which orifice was about to take one for the team. I made other plans. Focused on other dreams. I'm back in college working hard towards a career I am excited about. Not everyone gets everything they wants. I am so lucky with my life. I know that.

Yet as sure as I know my own heart, I know I would have joyfully thrown everything I've been working on away to mother that baby I briefly thought was coming.

I find that troubling. I've worked so damn hard to get past this. To move on. And to a large degree I have.

But I know for sure that no diploma, no career, no achievement is going to feel as good, as life-affirming, as promising, as joyful as misreading that damn piece of paper did. So, I've lived my way into my second choice life and made it meaningful. I had so many fears that I would never be able to do that, but I have. Yet...

I wish the longing would go away but it won't, not for me. I envy those who truly get past this but I've learned to accept that part of me will always be ready to jump into the lake again and give it another try, orifices be damned.

Study-free zone.

It's not as easy to avoid studying for my exam tomorrow as it might appear. Here the things I've done in the past 24 hours to avoid it. Please keep in mind that I am nearly 40:

-Not tired but willed myself into a nap.
-Read every magazine in the house. Twice.
-Three NYT crossword puzzles (Monday ones only, my brain ain't that big yet.)
-Registered the kid for camp.
-Had conversations with my pug by supplying both voices.
-Emailed and phoned family members to lock down summer vacation dates.
-Sent in all my co-pays.
-Voted for Sanjaya.

Cloudy

It's cloudly outside and in my head. I seem to have found this middle ground where I can get things done and keep my mind slightly unfocused at the same time. But when I have to get into focus, it comes back.

She's dying.

I'm not supposed to say that. It's not allowed. She's alive, there's still a chance. Of course, of course. That is true. Hell, there was only a 3-5% chance that her initial, common, slow-growing, wonderful-survival-rate cancer would spread and become this rare, agressive, chemo-resistant cancer. But it did. I tell myself; It can happen again. This cancer can surprise us all, not with despair but with joy. I tell myself that and some of the time I even believe it.

I feel like she is slipping through our hands. Is this our last summer together? The big family get-together was going to be in August. Now we are rescheduling for May or June.

That's what we're doing. We're changing around dates, as if we had realized one of the children was going to be at camp that week or someone's boss was being unreasonable. We don't say aloud the real reason. That the idea, false though it may be, that our time with her was unlimited has been ripped away. It's not safe to wait anymore.

I married young. As of this year, I've had my MIL in my life longer than I didn't. My husband's family is very close knit with her at the center. Who would we be without her? It's unbearable.

No need to import the crazy, we've got plenty.

It's true, everything is bigger in Texas. Especially the crazy.

Texas legislator Republican State Sen. Dan Patrick has proposed a law that gives the thumbs up for the state of Texas to buy babies and pass them on for adoption.

Damn I miss Molly Ivins.

Spring Break

For spring break we flew to Virginia to visit with my in-laws. My healthy, full of positive energy MIL was recently diagnosed with a rare, aggressive cancer. Not having seen her since the news, I suppose we were in denial.

She is really feeling the effects of chemo in the days following the treatment. These effects are cumulative over time and she still has four months of chemo to go. Yet her core stays intact. She's worried about we're all feeling, she's trying to comfort us. But she's also accepting help, which she is usually loathe to do, so I'm thankful for that.

Her best chance is that the cancer was only in the lymph nodes they found it in and it had not spread at all because this cancer is a poor responder to chemo, which is why the chemo regimen is so severe. She was diagnosed less than three months ago. I feel in deep denial.

This absolutely cannot be happening. Except that it is.

Marine Staff Sgt. Eric Alva

Marine Staff Sgt. Eric Alva was the first American wounded in the war in Iraq. Here is his comment on General Pace's comments:

Judging gay men and women in the military for factors unrelated to their fitness to serve undermines our military’s effectiveness. Certain leaders' bigotry should not be a rational basis for discrimination. This kind of prejudice is going to continue to have a direct impact on our national security as we allow qualified gay men and women to lose their jobs for no good reason. This policy — and General Pace’s bigotry — is outdated, unnecessary and counter to the same American values our soldiers are giving their lives for each and every day.

Servicemembers Legal Defense Network joins the call for an apology.

Please consider writing your officials to let them know that disrespecting the people who serve and support the military is not acceptable.

An Open Letter

I absolutely agree that the larger insult has been to active-duty and retired gay and lesbian military members. I wrote my letter to General Pace to include another group of people that his remarks hurt. In the letter I sent, I signed my full name.

Dear General Pace:

As the wife of a Marine for nearly two decades, I am a member of the Marine Corps family. I have proudly served as a volunteer to support other Marine families.

Many Marine families include members who are gay. We have gay children, siblings and parents. These families members proudly support both their Marine and the larger Marine Corps family.

It is one thing to voice support for an official policy, it is quite another to insult people who have so diligently supported the Marine Corps.

Please consider doing the right thing and apologizing for the disrespect you have shown to so many members of the Marine Corps family.

Sincerely,
FHT