Tuesday, February 29, 2000


At the truly ungodly hour of 4:30 am, you wake up, repeat the thermometer drill, and remind yourself that A) all this is worth it if you get a baby, and B) 5 hours of sleep will seem like an impossible luxury once you have a kid, so get over your whiny self and get to sperminatin’! With deft hands, Cait skillfully and tenderly fills the syringe with the world’s most expensive liquid and performs the act. You impersonate a rotisserie chicken for the next half hour, get up and perform your morning ablutions, and depart for another day’s work.

After school, for the second day in a row you screech out of the parking lot as students are being dismissed, wishing that your car weren’t so distinctive, and trying to hide from the super-observant eyes of your fellow teachers on bus duty, heading for your first appointment with the most highly recommended fertility acupuncturist in town. You are pleased as punch when you tell her you got a positive OPK, and allow her to needle and moxa away all the bad karma/funky mojo/crap of the last 10 months, hoping that this will clear the way for good times ahead.

You head home in that fuzzy post-acupuncture sleepy bliss, and slide right into bed for your second date with Mr. Syringe. Knowing that you’ve made it through the worst this week has to offer (except inconsequential family drama – Hah!), you drift gently off to sleep, figuring that skipping dinner will make up for the stress chocolate you ate earlier in the week.