Yes, it has been over two weeks since my RE appointment. I called back the following Thursday, heart in my mouth. Because I'm a teacher it's not easy for me to make phone calls during work. I waited impatiently for recess and pulled out my cell phone. But there was no nurse available to speak to me; they would call back, I was told. The nurse who called me back said, "Oops, not yet. Wait another seven days to find out if you have any chance of fulfilling your lifelong dream of pregnancy!" Well. That's not exactly what she said. A paraphrase, if you will.
So I called back this past Thursday. I was considerably less excited and actually forgot to call until recess was almost over (it's scrambling-to-write-reports season). Once again: "Oh, those tests can take THREE weeks. Surely you don't mind pondering your fertility for another seven days?"
I don't think about it every minute. I can't, with a toddler in the house and those aforementioned report cards breathing down my neck. But somehow, the longer it takes to find out my results, the more I sink into assumed infertility.
I've started several posts here about my results only to abandon them. My feelings about this blog are in limbo, too. When we started out, it was a way to participate in a community around (largely) lesbian baby-making. But that community has morphed; we're still in contact, but more often through FB and message boards these days. Honestly, I wish it weren't so. I can't write about my fertility on FB. Can you see the status updates? Ha. And I can't write blog-length personal posts on message boards. Well, I can, and I have; but I don't like to make it a common practice. This is my place to talk about me. But I wonder about the audience, not because I want to be a famous blogger, but because I used to imagine my circle of women reading. And now I don't know quite who I'm writing to anymore.
I want to clarify that the whine here is not about lost readership or popularity, it's about change. God, do I hate change.