Am I still the same? Has anything really changed?
I left the house at 7 am this morning, to go to the lab.
I drive in the dark and the ice, thinking about all of the times I have done this. Thinking about all of the times I drove to the lab praying that this would be the cycle, that this pregnancy would stick, that this would be my turn. The times I watched the needle go in and my blood pool in the test tube. Praying earnestly, fervently, mightily under the bright lights, the smell of antiseptic its own incense.
The car is different.
My hair is different.
Am I different?
I rolled up my sleeve, stuck my arm out, counted the tubes. Only 2 this time. I have never been able to figure out the collection system. All those boxes (and sometimes all those hopes) and only 3 tubes? No hopes and 15 tubes?)
Am I different than that woman?
I want some sort of answer. I want some sort of validation. I want someone to tell me that I am better, stronger, braver than I was.
I want all of this to have meant something. To have done something to me other than leave me a burnt out shell of a woman.
And I’m wondering about this, about the choices I made and how I have dealt with them. I turned to my work. If I couldn’t make a difference by having children, couldn’t find meaning that way, I would work.
I’m good at working.
(Not so good at making babies, really)
And at the end of my life, will I be happy? Will I look back at my life and be pleased?
They tell me that no one looks back and wishes they worked more, but what else is there for me, a woman with no children? What are my options?
Am I any different? I thought I would find meaning with children. Now I’m trying to find it in my work.
Has anything really changed?