…and this is different from my other posts how?
Today is The Day. I’ve dealt with it well so far. Yesterday’s post was very cathartic for me, and I was able to air many grievances and clear my mind, so hooray for that. I’m focused on bettering myself, on moving on. So I’m getting divorced. Not like I’m the only person in the entire world going through this now. It still stings because I wanted us to “make it,” but that’s okay that we didn’t. I give us props for realizing we were through before things really got ugly between us. I still see Jason often, and the old feelings of “why don’t you love me anymore?” are being replaced with maintaining a friendship. I love the guy still, but not in a romantic way…despite a slip-up I had a few months ago where I was uh…”missing” a certain aspect of our relationship and seriously considered asking to “meet” with him (please note I made an epic Freudian slip and typed “meat”). Thankfully, I came to my senses–no pun intended–and saved myself the awkwardness and inevitable shame something like that would have had for me.
So. I turned thirty-years-old a week ago. It’s been okay so far, with the exception of my biological clock set five minutes to midnight. Yes, that was a Watchmen reference. I am a nerd. But yes, my “I want to be a mommy” voice is starting to get pissed and is yelling at me constantly. I’ve gone so far as to think about using an anonymous donor and impregnating myself. This will not happen, because that’s a goofy idea, but I am ready for children. Let me tell you all a story about this…
First, some TMI. I am not sure I am able to have my own children. Jason and I were never careful. I used oral contraceptives at the beginning of our marriage, but I’m a terrible pill taker, and plumb forgot to take them. We’d use back up protection, and then none at all. Basically five years of doing The Lord’s Deed as it was meant to be done, and nothing. I”m not sure if it’s me, per se, or if I was dealing with defective merchandise, if you catch my drift, but you get the idea. Or, it was pure science, and forgive me a moment as I explain to you what I mean about this.
I have the blood type of O with an Rh factor of negative. So, in layman’s terms: O negative. Because Jason is who he is, he never knew what his blood type was, but if he had an Rh positive blood type, this means that any child we produced would either be Rh negative or positive. If it was positive, and the baby’s blood was introduced into my system somehow, my blood would then create antibodies against the baby’s blood, in short, causing mayhem. I would treat the baby as an intruder into my body and I would essentially attack it. So, chances are quite high that Jason was Rh positive, we had been pregnant, and due to my body doing its natural defences against an “outsider,” the pregnancy ended in miscarriage.
There was your science lesson for the day. You’re welcome. “But Erin, what if you want to have kids and you know your mate’s blood type is positive?” Well friends, this means I will have to have an injection of immunoglobulin (Rhogam) to prevent me from attacking the baby. Yay, science! Also, and sorry for more TMI, but the downstairs plumbing is wackadoo…I have uterine fibroids, which is a fancy way of saying I’ve got shit growing in me, and that also prevents the egg from attaching to the uterine wall for baby making. I’m all sorts of medically messed up, kids. For reals.
I just said “uterine wall.” Ooky.
Okay, there is a point to this all and it is that I want kids, be them from me or meeting a nice fella who already owns some. I know my mother is dying for more grandkids to spoil ruthlessly and unabashedly. Patience, Mom. Patience. It’ll happen some way or another.
I had something I wanted to talk about, but I’ll be buggered if I can’t remember it. I admit–I’ve drunk some wine this evening in …celebration (?) of the day, and well, red wine slaps my butt something fierce, so please forgive my momentary lapse of stupidity.
Having said that, I’ll give this post a pair of cement shoes and toss it in the Hudson River to sleep with the fishes.
Good evening, and thanks for playing.
As always I stay,