transcended.net

It started off as such a good day.

I didn’t screw anything up at work (as far as I know), in fact, I kind of kicked ass at my job today.

And, I got my Number.  In the industry I work in, Numbers Day is like the biggest day of the year.  It’s pretty much the reason we kill ourselves the other 230 or so days out of the year.

Anyway, I was pretty happy with it.   Having your hard-work rewarded definitely feels good and I had the foresight to not get my expectations up too high given that 2010 was not a great overall year.

Everyone I work with had slipped out by 2pm so I had plenty of time to clean up and get out in time to drive down to my doctor appointment in Palo Alto.

I barely even hit any traffic.

I should have known the universe was being too kind to me today.

I was set up.

Even the appointment itself didn’t seem obviously upsetting.  The tone was positive.  Tests look good.  Blah, blah, blah.

And then, he asked about my meds and I brought up the fact that Dr. Kidney had mentioned I could start tapering the C.cept in three months and that I had just cut myself down a dosage last week based on that advice.

*silence*

Long story short?

My doctor told me to look into adoption. (Yes, literally).

Basically he said he will never feel comfortable with the idea of me getting pregnant.  He said that he would be really scared and that he can’t tell me that he thinks there will come a day in the future where that will change.

When I realized where the conversation was headed, my brain started screaming, Don’t say it, don’t FUCKING say it.

But he said it anyway.

And then I started willing myself to smile and my eyes to remain dry.  And I even forced myself to laugh as I frantically tried to smother any emotion I might be having because I really did not want to tear up in front of my doctor (again).

Maybe I’m completely overreacting.  I haven’t decided yet.  I haven’t decided yet how I really feel about this conversation.  I’m not sure how to approach this anymore. 

Although I did already have myself a good cry over all of this when I got home. 

Paul discovered me in the bedroom, staring at a wall in the semi-dark.  What can I say?  I know how to do depressed. 

He made me feel a bit calmer.  Restored a bit of the hope I thought had been completely destroyed by that five minute conversation.

But I also kind of just feel numb now.  Like I don’t want to react anymore.

I just want this to be easy.  I want to not have to think so hard about this. 

If only I knew how prescient that Desperate Housewives quote would be when it caught my attention on Monday.