My AP English teacher made us memorize this quote by William Wordsworth, “All good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions recollected in tranquility.” Which is why I didn’t post to my blog yesterday, the day of my results visit with Dr. Mug.
Now that I’m more tranquil, I’ll write something. The news is not horrible, but I was in a bit of a state last night. The powerful emotions were overflowing all over the place.
I couldn’t sleep on Sunday night, because I went crazy and drank a Coke in the middle of the afternoon at the school fair. Then Cakie decided to wake up at 5:30 am. Monday in my classroom was “New Amsterdam Day.” It is one of my favorite events, but one for which I need a lot of energy. The students and I go into our time machine back 350 years, we dress up as Dutch settlers, we make butter, do art activites, play “nine pins” and decorate the room to look like New Amsterdam. This year, I even had my good friend J, who is a staff developer and teacher, dress up like Peter Stuyvesant and visit my kids. I love J, but I was a little nervous about having him visit my classroom, since he’s one of those people who seem to be excellent at everything he does. I have my good moments, but also many half-assed ones. J was a hit, and despite having very little sleep I didn’t lose my temper the whole day. When I finally headed for the door at dismissal, I just wanted to plop myself down on my bed. I was dog tired. But I had to go on the subway to Manhattan.
By the time I got to Dr. Mug’s office, I had lost all sense of decorum. I was dressed like a Dutch settler (I took off the paper-towel bonnet and my pillow-case apron, but I still looked like I should be milking a cow.) I was soooo tired. I actually broke one of my own cardinal rules. I whipped out my cell phone in the waiting room and called J to thank him for his visit. I stayed on the phone with J for quite some time. Rude! I was so rude. If anyone reading this happened to be at a certain RE’s office on the almost upper-west side yesterday and there was a milkmaid on a cellphone yapping (as quietly as she could) about teaching English Language Learners, that was me. I apologize. I was not myself.
When I finally got to see Dr. Mug, I was a wreck. I mean, I was almost a wreck.
Dr. Mug told me that all of my hormone levels were normal and fine, even my testosterone level. I don’t carry the gene for cycstic fibrosis. I don’t have any horrible communicable diseases. There’s just one thing… my eggs are getting old. He showed me the results of one test that sounded like Melanin. It was 0.4. He said that usually if the results are lower than 1, that indicates some ovarian decline.
Now, I am a very healthy person. The only real health problems I’ve ever had have been cavaties. Plus I’m a big optomistic Pollyanna. So, I was a bit upset to hear that my reproductive system was not a perfect pink little ball of baby-making magic. Dr. Mug said that it does not mean that I am infertile. It just means that we need to get started, and I’ll most likely be able to have children. He was very Pollyanna-ish himself, but I felt like I was falling off a cliff. To a rational person who had had some sleep the night before, it probably would not have been a very big deal. I got a little teary-eyed. The doctor said it probably won’t have to go as far as IVF or anything. I may not even have to take Clomid again, but he wants to try injectionables.
I guess the hard part for me, was that I had to revisit my idea of how long I’m willing to do this and when I would give up. I had told myself initially that I would try for one year, and if it didn’t happen, I’d stop. I do already have a child. I am a mom already. I have since then revised my schedule from “a year” to 12 tries. Since I didn’t know I’d be taking so many months off between tries. So that leaves me wth six more tries. I’m half-way to my self-imposed end point. I think I need to stop thinking of it this way. But I also think that 6 tries is a lot. I can’t actually imagine trying six more whole times. I have imposed this end point, so I can always give myself an extension, if need be. (Don’t worry, mom.)
When I got home, Cakie was very happy to see me, and I him. After a good cry and a while later, when I went to read him a book, I said, “Oye” as I tried to back myself on to the glider. Then Cakie said, “Oye.” A and I laughed. That baby is mine. This other baby will probably come at some point in the next two years, as well. All I need is one good egg.