Two Good Eggs

Two cracked eggs find the sunnyside (and funny side) of trying to conceive

Are you there, God? It’s me, Scrambled.

on January 2, 2013

Previously, I wrote about how I must be on this Earth solely to be comic relief for God.  And while I do enjoy making people laugh, I’m kind of over being His punching bag.

It ain’t funny anymore.

Ok, it sort of is.  A little.  But only 3 weeks after it happens, and a lot of wine has been imbibed.

Before Christmas, I promised to tell you how AF arrived in the worst possible way.  Well, here goes.

First, I need to set the stage.  I once told you about all the many pregnant women around me at work.  Last year, three women on my hall had a baby.   No lie – the mothers were all named some variation of Jennifer (Jennifer, Jenny and Jen).  They all sat next to one another, and always – repeat, always – walked waddled to the bathroom together.  Always right past my office.

Finally, they all had their damn babies, went on maternity leave and I had 12 weeks of unpregnant bellies crowding me in the bathroom.

Fast-forward – now, it’s Christmas and time for our annual department Christmas lunch.  I’m officially three days late for my period and somewhat hopeful that maybe, just maybe, this month we nailed it (so to speak).   I live by the motto “Drink til it’s pink” – so I was enjoying a few vodka tonics with my friends while we awaited the beginning of the party.   My three girlfriends/coworkers and my “work husband” were all standing around shooting the shit.  The convo went something like this:

Friend A:  wait… I thought that was Jennifer?

Friend B:  No, that is Jenny.

Work Husband:  Which one is the red head and looks about 12 years old?

Me:  That’s Jen.

Work Husband:  Well, which one is the really skinny one?

Friend A:  That’s Jenny.

Friend C:  Shit.  I thought the one with the curly hair was Jenny?

Me:  No, that’s Lindsay Beth.

Work Husband:  Oh yeah… she’s the hot one.

[silence as we all stare at him]

Friends A, B, C and me:  You think SHE is hot?

Work Husband:  Well, she’s got a nice ass.

Me:  I thought MY ass was the only one you’re allowed to look at (noting that his wife gives him permission to be my work husband, and occasionally Friend B’s work husband, too).

Work Husband:  Have you SEEN her in a pair of jeans?

Just when we’re all about to tear into him about his admiration of Lindsey Beth’s denim ass, we hear the *ting ting ting* of a knife on a wine glass as our department head kicks off our Christmas lunch with a poem she wrote about our department getting bigger this year with the addition of two new groups, and then she slowly added, “Annnnnd, speaking of GROWING…”

People – I kid you not.  I became short of breath.  I started to sweat.  The room shrank.  The sides went dark.  I was in a tunnel of DON’T FUCKING SAY IT, WOMAN!

And, in what sounded like whale-speak, in slow motion she said, “We’re about to have another baby in the group!  Congratulations…. LINDSEY BETH.”

are you KIDDING ME?  Are.  You.  Kidding.  Me.  First, her ass trumps mine, and now her uterus does, too?!

BITCHASS.

In that moment, I hear work husband let out a long, slow, SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH of an exhale and he muttered, “Well, THAT was the worst.  possible. cosmic.  timing.  EVER.”

I turned and said, “YOU DID THIS!  YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN!”

Work Husband:  I’m pretty sure I didn’t.

Me:  Well, I hope you enjoy her ass as it gets big as hell.    And I stormed to the bar.

When I returned to the table, work husband looked sheepish and sad and truly sorry.  It became laughable at that moment, because he was acting like maybe he DID do it… which made me giggle.  But only a little.

So, I soldiered on through the party.  But when it was over, I was near my breaking point.  I desperately needed to go scream, cry, punch something.  I needed to be alone.   I said my goodbyes, polished off my drink, and headed to the parking lot.

En route to my car, I STARTED MY PERIOD.

Kids, I can’t make this shit up.

I let it all out.  Sobbed in public stumbling to my car through tear-filled eyes and didn’t care who saw.  I sat behind the wheel before cranking the car and just let out a big ol’ rebel yell.  Except, unlike Billy Idol, I cried, “NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE.”

And from there, I screamed til I was hoarse.  I begged God to answer me:

WHY DO YOU HATE ME?

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE LEARNING FROM THIS?

TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

By the time I got home, I was all cried out and without a voice.  In a sick, mental way, it was cathartic to just let it all out.  It also helped that two days later, Sunnyside came to visit and we put all this behind me.

Over the holiday, I let go of some anger, let in some perspective and just tried to be happy in my current life.  I have no idea what 2013 is going to hold, but I’m hoping that God will allow me a little hiatus from his Comedy Troupe, at the very least.

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8 responses to “Are you there, God? It’s me, Scrambled.

  1. ivfmale says:

    That was certainly one rough party. Sometimes crying does help.

  2. gardengirl29 says:

    I’m so sorry! I hope you don’t mind me saying, but the story was so tragically ironic that it was almost funny- up to the part where you cried on your way to the car. I’m sorry it was such an awful holiday party.

    One thing I’ve learned from infertility is that I will never, ever announce my or someone else’s pregnancy at a party or other fun public event. It can ruin the fun for us infertiles… and drive us to drink! I would have been with you at the bar.

    (Hugs.)

  3. Scrambled says:

    I absolutely don’t mind you saying that. In fact, now when I tell the story, I laugh, too. I just always need a few days to sulk before I find the humor in it. 🙂

  4. KS says:

    Just started following you and I recently yelled at God like you did. I can definitely understand what you’re going through. It seems all my friends and co-workers are pregnant and it just keeps coming. And I may start using your phrase “drink till its pink”- genius!

  5. libhope says:

    Oh I am sorry but I hope 2013 will be a better year. Periods have a way to have not so comic timing don’t they? I found out my FET failed about 4 days before Christmas. After stopping the meds, it turned up on Christmas Day.I yelled too. Sigh. Wish you the very best of luck for 2013!!

  6. […] Are you there, God? It’s me, Scrambled. […]

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