dating, IUI, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc


I’m blogging on my iPad while getting a pedicure. And I won’t apologize!

Today was wonderful–I love coming home to SF, especially gaining those 3 hours back that were painfully lost on the way to the east coast. I fell asleep at 10 last night and leisurely awoke at 6 to armies of birds welcoming the morning with their songs. Those three hours brought me back to civilization, with warm breezes and a slow cup of coffee.

My first plan of the day was to attend a toddler birthday party in Golden Gate Park. To save time, I decided to combine it with my morning run by running there with gift in hand (fortunately not as awkward as it sounds since it was a thin book that tucked neatly under my arm). Meanwhile, the birthday boy’s mom had texted me that her friend’s husband’s friend would be there and she wanted to set me up. All she said was that he’s 6’1″. She had read a recent post of mine here about taking steps toward dating while in trying-to-conceive-mode, and this guy “wants kids” and therefore may not freak out about “hanging out with someone pregnant” and I really do appreciate it (hint, hint) when friends keep me in mind for the eligible bachelors who cross their path, especially ones that for some strange reason seem compatible with my plans.

Showing up post 5-mile run was therefore not setting me up to look my “best,” but you know what? Getting my run in was more important, and shows me at my best in a whole other way. Plus, even with friends’ best intentions, they’ve been known to choose guys for me who are just wildly wrong to the point where I wonder if they know me at all. (Sometimes I’ve suspected them of having their own crush and wanting to live vicariously.) So I hedged my bets and picked the cutest running gear.

This time, EJ did good. At first glance across the playground, he was kind of ridiculously handsome. We eyed each other from a distance for a while, both of us in on the plan, until I went over to meet him, wearing at that point a multitude of borrowed clothing because I was so freezing out there in the fog post-run. Wishing I was dressed, if not to the nines, then at least a little less like someone who lived in the park.

Everyone around us suddenly evacuated, and we had a nice chat. He was solicitous and friendly and I momentarily forgot about my baseball cap, frizzy ponytail, and giant flannel plaid shirt. At some point, I said, “So I heard that you lived in Michigan?” (I’d been filled in on this detail on my way in.)

“Actually, I’m from Michigan.”

“ too.”

We’d been walking, and at this point he turned and faced me, amused, and the next part felt like theater, “Where in Michigan.”

Yes–we are from the same small town.

He took a step back (now he looked spooked) and said “What’s your last name?” and I said “What’s your last name?”

I knew his last name. His younger brother was in my class. A nice, popular guy with a big smile who was shorter and less handsome than the guy in front of me.

I don’t think we quite recovered from the shock of that for the rest of the party. He gave me a nice hug at the end but didn’t ask for digits–was he afraid I’d have insider access to his sordid hometown legacy?

I mean, really. He went to my high school? (oh and ps: we also went to the same university.) Now I feel like my friend must have been picking up on some kind of Michigan vibe. Did he talk a tiny bit like me so she made a subconscious connection? Is this a sign? And a sign of what?

Well, that we can’t know. But it did get me thinking about how unpredictable life is and how much life can have a sense of humor, throwing impossibly unlikely coincidences in our paths. We always want to know–what does it mean? And that we can only know in retrospect. Maybe that was the extent of the universe’s joke today. Hee hee, says the universe! It certainly puts a new spin on which sperm meets up with which egg…the chances of you or me ever coming into existence were basically infinitesimal.

Meanwhile, I’m just enjoying the ride over here. Still just peeing on a stick (which oddly enough, keeps me grounded) and happy to be back in my beautiful city.

Il faut toujours tenter la chance.


3 thoughts on “chance”

  1. KT! This is too crazy!
    You can’t make this stuff up! My pulse is racing a little and I think I need to re-read what you wrote since I read it so quickly to see what was going to happen. Can I even skip ahead to the next chapter? : )
    What you said about chance is spot on. I am living it, as we recline here all cozy clean in bed after our first bath tea together…me, cradling a milk-drunk 4 day old who spent three last 41+ weeks floating around and kicking inside of me and the previous year frozen in time as a 6 day old blastocyst who had arrested development on the day of transfer, but reconvened during the night!
    Now if his brothers/sisters hadn’t miscarried that September, we wouldn’t be here together right now.
    Enjoy the ride, Mme Jeanne. We’re along with you!
    Man oh man!

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