anxiety, dating, fertility, IVF, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

laundromat

Here I am doing laundry at a coin-op laundromat flashing back to laundromats of my past such as in Paris after college which is probably the last time I didn’t have laundry in the building. No, wait–I didn’t have laundry in the Mission but by then I was a wash ‘n fold connoisseur. I may find myself going back to wash ‘n fold but for today I needed the clean laundry pronto and plus am trying to save money. Ironically, when I lived in NYC in the tiniest studio of my life, I had a stacked washer/dryer in the closet which makes me cry with longing when I think of it. This honestly isn’t so bad though (especially with a car)…it gives me time to blog (free wi-fi!) and I’m even sitting on a bench in the sunshine.

I was a little nervous going into the weekend because I reserved the whole thing for unpacking and yet knew viscerally that I needed bigger distractions as I near my test date. I posted on Craig’s List that I’d have free boxes and packing paper available on Sunday which gave me a deadline to get out of boxes, or at least most of them. I woke up and read a story from my Dear Sugar compilation (Tiny Beautiful Things, highly recommend) about how Sugar went to a yard sale at 22 with her mom and noticed a sweet little red velvet dress for a toddler. She found herself wanting it, inexplicably, since she didn’t even know if she wanted kids. Her mom offered to get it for her (it was $1) and told her to put it in a box for later. Three years later, Sugar’s mom died. Ten years after that, Sugar had a baby girl. She found the box with the dress and thought, my mom bought this dress for the granddaughter she’ll never know. Then, seeing her daughter wearing it on her second Christmas, Sugar thought, my daughter is wearing the dress that her grandmother bought her at a yard sale. It was about the meaning of things, and how the meaning changes over time. This made me cry for 20 minutes.

Then, driving over to my old place to meet the piano movers, I heard the song that goes don’t you worry, don’t you worry child. See heaven’s got a plan for you and I burst into tears again. All of this to tell you that I’m hormonal and there is a lot of change to process, the end of an era, the beginning of a new one, and not knowing yet if this try worked or not.

I was just talking to my sister about how I don’t deal well with unstructured time. I spent the rest of the day maniacally unpacking, not stopping for food or water or fresh air, just unpacking my ass off and reading old journals as I set them on the bookshelf, remembering such heartbreaks as my camp counselor B (forbidden), my on-the-fence-about-kids ex-boyfriend N, and my on-the-fence-about-me ex-not-quite-boyfriend M, remembering my dating patterns in three quick dips into my past. And here I am at 40, unattached and on my 11th try to get pregnant, um, remind me–how did this all happen again?! Or not happen? At 10pm I fell into bed with The West Wing and had work stress dreams all night.

(Meanwhile, the place is looking great.)

FET#2 has been the opposite of FET#1. For #1, by this time I was almost cocky, eating for two, etc. Everything throughout the two week wait revolved around the two week wait. I was sleeping and eating perfectly. I had relatively low stress.

This time, not so much. I’ve been stressed, exhausted, and distracted. No routine since the move. I feel nothing much. Whenever I’m hungry, I’m just hungry. When I’m tired, I’m just tired. And when I’m weepy, I am certainly hormonal, likely from the estrogen patches and the progesterone shots. And just because this time is opposite still doesn’t mean it will work.

Driving over here, that Pink song “Try, Try, Try” came on the radio as the sun broke through the fog. My fiercest hope is that I can think of this try in the context of the bigger picture–that it’s all part of one unpredictable and ongoing story as I pursue an ordinary dream, that my babies could be these ones or the next ones or ones after that and this whole long period of trying will have great significance in ways we cannot yet imagine. The meaning has yet to be revealed.

The meaning for today is: the two week wait is not for sissies.

And with that, I will take my warm laundry home. Love to you all.

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4 thoughts on “laundromat”

  1. For better or for worse, one amazing thing about time is that it always passes. This is captured in a variety of ways in your post. Right now, time is passing, moving towards more information about your body and your baby(babies?). Hopefully, really great and amazing information. And then there will be even more time.

    Love,

    Wig

  2. I am in my TWW now too and I am handling it much better than the first 2. I was a wreck last time…but structure sure does help pass the time. And I too have been stressed and busy this TWW. Forgot to make acupuncture appts., forgetting to not go biking, skipping yoga…ect. In other words…probably be the month is happens b/c my life is not revolving around my everymomentthoughtsofbabyonboard. But alas…I have no signs. Boobs aren’t even sore anymore. Here’s to testing day!!!!! T-5 days for me.

  3. Your post made me download Tiny Beautiful things last night and start reading it….gosh, I don’t know what it is but her writing sure does make me cry. I’m keeping you in my thoughts this weeks, may it be stress free and go by quickly for you and my other (Hi, J!) TTC friends.

  4. LOVE YOU, K. HANG IN THERE…DC and I visited the Redwood forest on the way down from Seattle to LA a few weeks ago. There was a gigantic tree which had fallen, laying on its side. We managed to scramble up one end, and were able to walk the 40 or so feet length about 12 feet up (that’s how big the diameter of this giant was). It was cool and dark that morning. No one else but us were there. When we climbed down the rotted root system on the other end (about 18 feet off the ground), and got our feet back on terra firma, we noticed a phrase that had been beautifully and carefully carved into the side of the tree, on a patch where the outer bark had given way to smooth wood. It read:
    “THE IDEA OF LETTING GO”

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