Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Does this key fit?

I've had a leeeetle more energy the last couple of days than I had previously, so today I actually got a couple of things done. Number one, I packaged up and UPS'd back my leftover meds to The Apothecary Shops in Glendale, AZ, whose enlightened policy is to take back leftover baby-making meds. Which is a good thing since the meds are darned pricey, as we all know.

Actually, this saga started on Monday. I had saved the (LARGE) box that all my meds came in, so I blithely tossed in the leftover Follistim and Menopur and added a couple of freezer paks, then toodled off to FedEx. (I went to FedEx solely because that was the shipping company Apothecary had used.) After the multiply-pierced young man at the counter summoned up enough energy to leave the conversation he was having with his (multiply-pierced) friend and take my package from me, I filled out the little form, he weighed it, then announced that it would be eighty-one dollars and some odd cents to send it overnight.

My jaw dropped. I had thought it might be as high as, maybe, forty dollars or so, but eighty? That had never occurred to me.

There must be Scots-Irish in me. I could not stand to spend that much on sending a package, even one with so esteemed a cargo. So I took it home again, found a disreputable-looking box that was of exactly the right dimensions to hold the medications, two freezer paks, and inch-thick layers of styrofoam on each side, and then whacked the styrofoam to fit, leaving my kitchen looking like it had been through a blizzard. Today it occurred to me that I did not have to give the surly gen-Xers at FedEx my custom, and took it to the brownshirts instead, who charged me just as much -- $59 for the smaller package -- but were so cheerful and personable that I started to think I had wandered into a pod of Scientologists.

But that was not the high point of my day, chirpy as the brownshirts were. Following that, I had lunch with friends, then hit Mervyn's to see if I could find some jeans that didn't hurt. I currently have ONE pair of jeans that I can wear without pain. The scar from last year's myomectomy still hurts if I wear tight clothing for more than about two hours, and I have already widened enough in my fundament that all my other jeans now fit into the "tight" category. And the one pair of jeans I can wear are ones I bought for gardening (which is why they were so loose and floppy to begin with) and have permanent tar stains on them. I am somewhat Challenged in the fashion department right now.

Alas, I found no appropriate jeans at Mervyn's -- but for the first time in months, I allowed myself to actually take a turn through their baby clothing department. They are the tiniest little clothes imaginable ... and embellished with duckies and wild cherries and ruffles and little toy cars ... and just amazing. It hurt my brain to even entertain the notion that in a few months, I might actually be in charge of a small human being -- or two -- who might require the ownership and wearing of such things.

But what I realized, as I tiptoed around the baby department, was that I was not actually touching any of the clothes. My first ultrasound is tomorrow, and until I see visible proof that there is someone living in there, I won't really believe it. I tried to put my finger on the odd hesitancy I felt about touching the baby things, and realized that I felt as though someone had given me the key to a beautiful new house -- but not the deed. It wasn't really my house, not yet, even though I was being urged to make myself at home in there. But it's not my home, not really my key, not until I get the proof in hand.

Which I hope to get tomorrow.


Blogger casey said...

Great metaphor! Just remember, babies come with a 30-year mortgage, too. :)

Best of luck at the u/s.

1:45 PM  
Blogger chris said...

Hope all went well today.

5:52 PM  

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