Oh that was me yesterday. A wet napkin. A hectic 3 days at work, a mere 3 weeks before our wedding, many interrupted nights of sleep by the meowing cat, and add a visit to the Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility doctor, and you have a soggy mess.
As I drove into the city where the clinic is, Neko Case's tornado whirled in my ears; it was just playing on CBC radio 2's morning show. The tears started then and unfortunately, it was a little bit like a garden hose that doesn't readily shut off.
Quite frankly, I didn't feel like going back to the clinic. Just didn't feel like it one bit. But I had to go for a follow-up appointment to monitor my uterine lining on the estrace/prometrium combo. I started crying again in the bathroom when I arrived and cried in the consultation room and then decided to go through the capitals. I started with Canada, since they are more familiar to me. Once I got through all of them, I moved south to the US and started trying to name those. I got stuck on Maine. Probably because it's my pen name, but I just couldn't think of it and it frustrated the heck out of me. My mind kept coming back to Augusta and I kept saying to myself "NO! That's in GEORGIA!" Boston is the capital of Massachusetts, Albany is the capital of New York, I have no idea what the capital of Rhode Island or Connecticut is, I think the capital of New Hampshire is Portland (No, it's Concord), and on and on. That made the tears stop.
Tears stopped until the doctor walked in and asked me how I was doing. Isn't that the killer question when you're right on the edge!! And then he wanted to see if the reduction in overall estrogen had had an effect on my mood, specifically if it had lowered my overall mood. Um...with all due respect, I wanted to say, I'm not sure it's the estrogen as much as the unequivocal denial of a biological child. I didn't say it like that. It was choppy and not at all clear or eloquent.
Going back to the infertility clinic was difficult on many levels. The environmental cues were overwhelming. The setting is the one where we would bring all our hopes for having a baby. In the past, going there meant working toward getting pregnant and having our baby. Yesterday, I sat in the waiting room with hopeful couples like we once were and I found that excruciatingly painful. I couldn't look at them (not that anyone looks at anyone in the waiting room at the fertility clinic) and I didn't want them to look at me. I didn't want to recognize their hope, even if I could smell it from 20 paces away, and I didn't want them to see that this hope can be shredded.
In other news I took my wedding dress home yesterday. I think it will do. I hope.