Wednesday, July 21, 2004


What do you do while you're waiting?

I can't focus enough to work.  I try to work on projects that are mindless busy jobs, but I get distracted.  I read blogs, but some make me cry.  I read comments and I'm overwhelmed by the caring and support.  (It means a lot when you reply with your kind words when I know what you're personally going through right now.)  I review my IVF books, but they are never enough information.

One thing I didn't mention about my retrieval day was about that afternoon.  I woke up from my long nap and walked out to find my dear husband in the dining room reading my blog.  He tried to quickly close it but I recognized the stationary.  He was borrowing my laptop to look at tools on ebay and decided to see what was in my favorites.  He found this and started reading.  He said it seemed amazingly similar to our own story, until it hit him that it was his own wife's words speaking to him.

He then asked me a few questions about some of the things I'd written (like about his mother).  That was really uncomfortable.  He had read my diary.  Although I tell him all my thoughts etc, by reading it he is focused solely on my point of view without the obvious distractions of the day.  He said that my entries are the same style as they were back when we used to exchange all those letters.  Just the subject matter has changed.

So now when I'm writing, I feel a little bit more inhibited knowing that he's reading.  It's not as if I've been writing anything scandalous about our sex life or famous men I'd love to attack if only given the freedom and opportunity.  It's as if I've been gossiping freely in a room of girlfriends, and then Matt comes in and sits down.  Dude, go get a beer and sand your shelves or something.  I always get to talk to him, I want some girl time.  Okay?

I think about the embies in the incubator.  Strange that there's this part of the process where they're on the other side of the bay from us.  A body of water separates us.  Just like children, part of us, but separate.  When they go to college will I be as obsessed wondering what they're doing every minute of the day?  Will I remember this wait or will it be one of those things that is softened by time?


I'm getting a little deep.  I need to lighten up or I'll drive myself crazy.  How about a most embarrassing memory?

I was in college and working in retail, domestics department.  I had quickly dressed that day in a pair of clean but previously worn black jeans.

GRANDMOTHERLY COWORKER:  What's that by your shoes?
PAZEL:  Huh?  What?
GC:  There, sticking out of the bottom of your pants.  What is that?
P: (reaches down and eyes black fabric sticking out from pant leg, in an almost magician flourish pulls out black lacy used panties for all to see)
GC:  Your underwear?  How did those come off that way?
P: (shrugs, smiles, shoves panties in pocket, pretends it's a neat trick, reminds self to always check previously worn pants for previously worn panties from now on)


Most recent search that drove someone to my site...  Condom-balloons
Can I come to your party?  But really, are you looking for other good party accessories to go with the condom balloons or were you curious if they could actually be blown up?  I can assure you that they do make decent balloons.  My cousin and I once made several with my uncle's secret stash before my very Catholic grandmother walked in and nearly passed out.  The relatives that Thanksgiving were split between genuine shock and trying to stifle their laughter.  Guess which side I took after? 


Blogger Mandy said...

Oh Pazel. I lurve you.

I have not given my hubby my web address for that very reason, though I have at times read what I wrote to him or emailed him the text of what I wrote (and not the link) so I can understand the spot you're in.

Could you ask him not to read it?

About the jeans......LOFL. Girlie, I have SO done that.

As for the wait....someone found me by typing in free crochet pattern for expectant mother. I offered to post it on the blog, in case they come back. Should I do it either way? That'll give you something insanely dangerous to do.

2:33 PM  
Blogger amanda said...

I can imagine the 2ww is excruciating. Come to think of it, all the waiting that comes along with infertility: waiting for appointments, waiting for tests results, waiting for answers, just plain sucks. I hope time speeds up a little bit for you.

I really don't know what to say about the whole husband reading the blog thing, because my husband was the one that encouraged me to start a blog in the first place. He's been reading it from the beginning, so it doesn't really bother me.

Oh, and your panty story- hilarious.

2:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I laughed so hard about the jeans thing. I do that all the time, but I actually once did it in Junior High.


2:43 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh the wait is awful. And no matter how much you read or hear, it never tells you what you really want to know, which is "what is going on inside me?!?!?"
Have absolutely no advice on this point as I spent my two 2ww in a state of semi-paralysis watching way too much TV. Good luck to you!

About the husband and blog thing. I haven't brought myself to tell him yet, pretty much for the same reasons you state. We are very close and he is my best friend, but somehow the blog is a place where I can vent without fear of adding to his anxiety or sadness...

Good, good luck in your 2ww.


11:31 PM  
Blogger TigerJen said...

Oh Cool! Maybe I don't have to post anonymously anymore.

I'm crossing everything for you!!!

And I have my own mortifying underwear story, but I'm much too afraid to blog about it. I can only imagine what search could end up pulling it up on Google.

9:09 AM  
Blogger Barren Mare said...

Hah! The panty thing nearly happened to me the other day. Extraneous velcro on raincoat met laundry basket- disaster. Lucky I saw it before I went out the door.

Your husband was being a little nosey, I think. Bad Pazel Husband, bad. Do you think he would respect your boundaries if you told him to not read it anymore?

Hang in there, hon, hang in there. I have my tiny fingers crossed tight for you.

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