Finally, seeing red.
July 10, 2007
After another 48 hours of zero period signs, not even spotting, I am thrilled to report that some very light bleeding has started, accompanied by what are very obviously menstrual cramps. Since I already went through my crushingly disappointed phase on Sunday, I’m just relieved that my period has finally deigned to show up. My worst nightmare would be full-on bleeding while we’re on vacation next week. But I should be almost finished by the time we leave for Cape Cod on Sunday. Whew.
In other news, we went to see Transformers yesterday, which means I could finally read this blog entry, one I stumbled upon during recent efforts to go from totally clueless to very marginally literate in the wide world of blogging. As you may have noticed, this blog currently has no blogroll, no list of blogs that I read, because until I got the bright idea to start my own blog, I wasn’t much of a blog reader. This is pretty lame of me, yes, and I have no real excuse, as any time I’d stumbled on or been directed to a blog I found it pretty interesting. But I wasn’t versed in the whole process of subscribing, keeping up with new posts, leaving comments, etc. So lately I have been spending long hours of each day trying to catch up on Every Blog in Existence. Well, okay, every infertility-, academia-, or blackness-related blog in existence, since those are my main life issues these days.
It’s slow going, as you may expect–and all I can say is, it’s a good thing I discovered the blogosphere after tenure.
ANYWAY. So, Transformers. I thought the post over at the ABW’s site was incredibly smart, and I don’t have much to add in terms of actual critique. But I do need to say one thing: I left that film feeling so, so… OLD. Sure, most big budget Hollywood blockbuster movies are made for teenage boys. But maybe 17-19 year old boys–boys who can drive, whose voices have changed, who have probably had sex at least once with someone other than themselves. This one seemed written for 12 or 13 year olds, max. If you’re over 30, I’d suggest you go see the new Die Hard instead.
On to the “infertility” portion of this post: we went to see Transformers with a dear, dear friend–G’s best friend N, a guy that I really do adore. N married us. He has so, so many endearing qualities, really. He also has no kids, and has never tried to make a baby with anyone, including his now ex-wife. (You can see where this is going, right?) N knows we’ve been trying, has heard us express how much it sucks. His advice has always been, “well, just keep fucking–gotta work sometime, right?” True enough, unless of course fucking actually doesn’t work for us. Which it hasn’t so far. (And PLEASE, N and everyone else, stop saying things like “must be fun to try!” to me. This is how I can spot the People Who’ve Never Tried to Make a Baby at fifty paces–there is NOTHING fun about sex on a schedule, but only those who’ve never tried it are likely to think there is.)
But maybe there’s a reason people like N think baby-making sex is easy and “fun”–they don’t even know how it works! Yesterday after N’s most recent assertion of “just keep (having fun) fucking,” I grumbled something about how that window had closed a couple of weeks ago, and he totally didn’t get it:
Me: You know there’s only like 24 hours every month when a woman can actually get pregnant, right? [not technically true, as an egg can sometimes live for up to 48 hours, but close enough since most sources say 12-24 hours.]
N: [sure I am kidding] What? 24 hours? Getouttahere!
Me: [patiently] The egg only lives 24 hours max after it’s released, that’s why the sperm is supposed to be waiting in there already… [trails off in face of blank/incredulous stare]
N: [uncomfortable silence, then brightens.] Look, I say Just Keep Fucking!
Me: [bangs head on table]
See what I am working with? Yeah, there are plenty of people out there who figure, ANY time you have sex you could get pregnant. For folks like this, the whole process of the menstrual cycle, of ovulation, of (literally) how babies are made, remains a magical mystery. P.S., this guy is forty years old, and has an elite Northeast college degree.
Still, I wonder whether we would be pregnant by now if I were so woefully unaware of the workings of my own body. Maybe ignorance IS bliss. Of course, it’s too late for us, but to any people out there just starting the TTC process, I recommend avoiding the internet and anything written by Toni Weschler. Babies come from the stork, and that’s all the information you need. Well, that and Just Keep… you know.