Wednesday, May 11, 2005


It occurred to me this morning that the annoying sadness washing over me with boring regularity is more likely a condition of pregnancy than it is a consequence of the shit hitting the fan.

Women in safe, secure relationships with doting partners who talk to their bellies, rub their feet and who are in awe of their goddess-like state, still get the blues, don’t they? Even with all that lovin’ flying around them, they still get weepy and pathetic. That being the case, how I feel is perfectly natural. I even have an advantage to those loved and cosseted fairy princesses, because I’m lucky enough to have a tangible reason to feel dismal. Those poor bitches look at their perfect lives and wonder why in fuck they feel like throwing themselves off a cliff, and that probably makes them feel even more like jumping. Me? I get to say stab my finger in the air as I point and say ‘There, there it is! That’s the reason I’m crying!’.

In addition to those endogenous insanity inspiring hormones, I get avail myself of the delights of even more insanity inspiring, exogenous hormones in the form of Crinone. The listed side effects of this high dose progesterone are all pretty much those of pregnancy, kind of, if you multiply those side effects by a thousand.

More bloodwork was done this morning, and according to my monolithic calculator, my HCG should be around 155000 by now. They’ll call with the results this afternoon, but in the meantime, feel free to begin taking bets on what the number actually is. I, of course, am convinced the weepiness and the spectacular norks have nothing to do with this non existant pregnancy, and have everything to do with the progesterone going up my clacker on a nightly basis, because me? Pregnant? *snort* As if.

Morning sickness is still eluding me, and my GP says being fit is a very good explanation why. Fatigue isn’t a really a problem either, for the same reason, so if I am pregnant ( * snort* as if, etc) I’m not doing too badly for an old boiler, eh?

In other riveting news, I had a dream the other night. I drove to the beach and was walking on the small strip of sand left by the high tide. There were sharks swimming in the bay and I don’t know how or why, but I found myself in the water. The sharks turned out to be dolphins and one took my hand in its mouth, and because of its sharp teeth, I had to carefully pry it free. The overall feeling of the dream was that the beach was beautiful, and that being surrounded by dolphins was amazing.


Last night I dreamed I was clearing out a room full of junk in my home. It didn’t take long, and I was thinking I should have done this ages ago. I kept finding one and two dollar coins, but the main visual feature was that the room turned out to be big and airy, with sunlight spilling through the huge shop front windows. It was no longer in my house, rather, it was in the city, and being used by my brother and his wife as a business premises. The room was sparsely furnished and open plan, with cream carpet and only two or three tall, cream occasional tables against the wall. It kind of looked like a minimalist art gallery, before any art was put on display. In real life, my brother is a successful photographer, so that part wasn’t far fetched at all. There was a desk at the end of the room, and as I was cleaning, I vacuumed up one of my sister in law’s fluffy slippers. She laughed, and took it out the vacuum bag for me, because the dust made it hard from me to breathe. This dream had me looking in satisfaction at how beautiful the room was, and how successful my brother had become, but there was also so much regret as I mourned the dreams that, unlike him, I'd never chased.

Both dreams had such vivid images that I wonder what they meant, if they meant at anything at all…

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