This time last year was the saline ultrasound and the endometrial biopsy and the hysterosalpingogram, then the antibiotics, then the IVF orientation, then the follow-up biopsy, and all the while the hemming and hawing, the percentages and the dollar signs, the impossible calculations where n was a baby and x equaled WTF and y was well why not just try again on our own? Then there was Super Bowl Sunday and the huh here we go again feeling, then the creeping sick feeling, familiar then unfamiliar, steamroller fatigue, colors too loud, back molar barf button right where the toothbrush hit. Then one good appointment then another, the shadowy pictures they’d never printed for us before handed over like a CVS receipt and marveled at in the car while “Da Butt” played on the radio.
36: Ding Dong
36: Ding Dong
36: Ding Dong
This time last year was the saline ultrasound and the endometrial biopsy and the hysterosalpingogram, then the antibiotics, then the IVF orientation, then the follow-up biopsy, and all the while the hemming and hawing, the percentages and the dollar signs, the impossible calculations where n was a baby and x equaled WTF and y was well why not just try again on our own? Then there was Super Bowl Sunday and the huh here we go again feeling, then the creeping sick feeling, familiar then unfamiliar, steamroller fatigue, colors too loud, back molar barf button right where the toothbrush hit. Then one good appointment then another, the shadowy pictures they’d never printed for us before handed over like a CVS receipt and marveled at in the car while “Da Butt” played on the radio.