T-minus _?_ days.

December 9, 2007

Well, here we are at CD24, which means the countdown to my period has begun. As you probably recall if you’ve been following along, my shortest cycle in recent history was 24 days, which means I could bleed tomorrow, or possibly Tuesday. On the other hand, just last month my cycle was 28 days, and the one before that was 26 days. So the bleeding could hold off until Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday of this week and be well within the range of normal. Guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

I vote for Tuesday, though, because I have to go into the city for meetings on Wednesday anyway, and that way waking up at 6:00am so as to make sure I leave by 7:00am and get to the clinic for my bloodwork by 8:00am will be much less painful. Although I suppose any day this week except Thursday would be fine–Friday is the only day that I’d rather not begin with a crack-o-dawn trip to the city, as Friday is the day of G’s office’s big holiday party, and I’d rather spend the morning sleeping in and then working on getting glam.

Of course, this likely means that dear old Aunt Flo will show up on Thursday evening, just when I’ve decided I’m safe for the day. But Dr. No-Nonsense was very clear that even if I don’t see red blood until 11:30 at night, that still counts as CD1, and I should come in for testing the next day. Actually, Aunt Flo arriving on Friday night would also be fairly inconvenient, as the next morning I’ll be hung over and exhausted from the party the night before, and not particularly interested in getting up early. But at least G will be around and with enough cajoling I can probably convince him to give me a ride into the city.

ANYWAY.

Huge thanks to those of you who commented about my last, babylust-related post. Yes, while out holiday shopping I have been seeing ALL the adorable infants wrapped snugly in their strollers and/or baby carriers, wearing their little knitted caps and their little tiny shoes and mittens, and yes, they are awfully darling. But really the worst has been the older kids, the toddlers–and not the strangers, but the ones I already know.

The other day I finally, FINALLY had coffee with a dear friend of mine with whom I’ve been trying to catch up for months, and during the last fifteen minutes of our date, her hubby came by with their 19-month-old, and oh, man. Not only is he such a beautiful little guy, but he looks so much like my friend and her husband both–which is an interesting feat, as the two of them look nothing like one another. He has a zany little grin, and he TALKS now. He said “bye bye Ditypof!” and did that cute little baby hand-flapping wave. Swoon.

Then, quite without meaning to, I have been torturing myself by watching YouTube videos of the adorable toddlers of my online friends. (Hi online friends, if you are reading!) One video features the sweetest little girl running around with a spatula and repeatedly jumping onto her knees (this really, really is SO much cuter than it sounds in my description–you’ll just have to trust me), another, which practically broke me, is a friend’s husband playing the guitar and singing, accompanied by their little boy who is perched on his dad’s knee. SINGING! A dad and son acoustic guitar DUET! Oh, the humanity. I am tearing up a little just thinking about it.

Of course, this is probably because G plays guitar; in fact, one of his guitars is about ten feet away from me as I type this. I so want that for him, the father-son (or father-daughter) musical duet, the chance for him to share his love of music, along with all the other things that make him him, with our child. Watching this video made it so easy for me to imagine that for him, but of course just envisioning it was somewhat torturous. G is going to be such an amazing father. I can’t believe it’s been so hard for me to give him that gift.

It’s funny, when I think about becoming a mother I often think of the many things that I will lose, but thinking about G as a dad, I can see how beautiful parenting could be. I mean, I know toddlers are a lot to deal with (every mom of a toddler I’ve ever talked to has expressed insane levels of frustration), and I know I will be as frustrated as the next woman–this is not me doing that “if only I could have a baby I would NEVER complain about my child EVER” thing–but I am pretty bummed that we haven’t even had a chance to try our hands at it yet.

My grandmother, who lives in Texas, turned 90 years old last weekend. Although I wanted to, I didn’t manage to go to see her for the occasion–partly, the $300 plane ticket was just too expensive for us this close to the holidays, and partly, the weekend of her birthday was incredibly over-burdened with work, as I had two different batches of papers that needed to be graded and I had a new text to teach that Monday. But, and this is tough to admit, I also felt a little bit like the trip would have been more worth taking if I’d had a child to bring down with me, a little one who needed to meet her great-grandmother before she passed on. I have never lived in the same town as my grandmother, and my mom hasn’t lived there since she was in high school–she left for college and never really went back there to live–so I don’t get back there very often anyway. G and I went down after the wedding in 2005 to celebrate with that part of the family, but before that I hadn’t been in over five years. And I guess I felt like going back again so soon wasn’t worth it if I didn’t have a new baby in tow.

Especially since the big question when I got there, without a baby or an obvious baby bump, was definitely going to be “so, when are you and G having kids??” When I called down there on Thanksgiving to say hello, people could barely wish me a happy holiday before starting in with the third degree. Things would not be better in person.

Still, of course I feel somewhat guilty for not going. But I hope my grandmother is still here to celebrate her 91st birthday next December. And I really hope that G and I can be there to celebrate with her, and introduce her to her (fifteenth*) great-grandchild.

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*Yes, you read that right: my Grandma already has 14 great-grandchildren. Given the fecundity of my first cousins I suspect that she may get a couple more before G and I manage to join the party.

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