Doctor’s appointments. Different doctors. Lots of bloodwork.

I actually don’t mind being stuck with needles. It’s everything else: the vacant stare from the receptionist; the antiseptic, bland waiting rooms; the visions of Pink Floyd that dance in my head while I’m waiting, in a paper shirt, for the doctor to come in. Like meat in a factory. And there’s always something wrong – something else, something different, some bit of me that I didn’t even know the name of before, and it’s not working.

It’s worth it – it’s all worth it – but the back of my mind keeps whispering to me, “Is this really how you want your child’s story to begin? This place, these people?” A life should begin in a moment of love. There is nothing in this cold room but misery and I came here out of desperation. But what else can I do but give up?
I can’t give up.

The few times I’ve had (thankfully minor) car accidents, I was astonished by the way time really does slow down. Just like in the movies – everything flickers into stop-motion moments and you have time – lots and lots of time – to watch, and think, what did I do wrong?

I have that feeling now. I am about to hear bad news, and I know it, and I can’t help thinking that this must be my fault somehow. But it’s like time is frozen, and I’m too numb to cry any more, except that sometimes I do cry. At my desk at work, or driving in the car, or in the middle of conversations, I just burst into tears.

I just lie. I tell people it’s allergies and excuse myself.

After the appointment I didn’t want to go back to work, and I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to drive and drive, far away, but the rational part of my head was still working and it knew I shouldn’t be driving at all. So I pulled over at the first place I came to, and it was the art museum. I wandered around it like I was looking for something, or someone, and then I realized I needed a Thing. I needed something I could hold, and focus on. I went to the gift shop looking for birds. And I found exactly what I wanted – a beautiful stone egg. In my hand, it looks like the moon, opalescent white. When I hold it to the light, it glows from the inside with rainbow colors.

I carry it everywhere these days.