Wednesday, September 29, 2004

paris and nike

Last night my husband offered to take me to Paris for my birthday. He had the whole thing worked out- when we'd leave, when we'd return. He called from work and said he'd rather surprise me, but since the plans were big and expensive, he wanted to check with me first.

I turned him down.

There's nothing I would love more than a romantic birthday weekend spent in Paris. But I can't go. I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but not counting official school vacations, I only have 5 sick/personal days that I can take in a year.

I'm already using up 2 of those days to go home for Thanksgiving. Something we do every year. Plans we made before I got hired.

And I'm anticipating needing to use the other 3 for a trip to NYC to meet Guru. I don't know how I'll swing it when it comes time to actually start IVF. I suppose I'll beg and plead and ask for a leave of absence, tell them not to pay me, but to please hold my job when I get back. We'll see. That likely won't come up for a while yet.

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I had a nightmare last night/this morning. I dreamt that I was one-half of a lesbian couple. I was hanging out with some friends in a trailer home when my partner came to the door and announced that she was pregnant. I hugged her and cried. And whispered into her ear that I was a bit jealous that she was the one who got to be pregnant. She was understanding and didn't take it the wrong way.

The friends that we were with were shouting out congratulations and counting the months until the due date. My partner was clearly upset, believed that she would miscarry. I pulled a couple of the friend's aside and told them that because we had been infertile, we were really nervous about this pregnancy. Weren't sure if it was going to stick. I explained that the risk of miscarriage is much higher until the end of the first trimester and tried to get them to squelch their enthusiasm just a bit.

One guy looked at me and said "It's not the infertility that causes micarriage. It's the Nikes."

I've no idea what that means in waking life, but in my dream it was mean and insensitive. I growled at him and kicked.

I must have kicked and growled in real life too, since that's the point where my husband woke me up and told me I was having a bad dream.


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