Like a pond during a drought...

I am dry and empty. But how could only a day or so of hope leave me here? I feel alone and without direction. It's all crazy, given how much the other IF bloggers have been through....

Yesterday, I was crawling out of my skin, just itchy with restlessness, frustration, anger. Since I have been trying different types of yoga at a studio in my neighborhood in a desperate effort to find something that calms my mind, I practically ran to a Hatha class in the late afternoon. When I walked to the back of the room to pick up props, I nearly cried when I realized the woman sitting on a mat next to the pile of blankets was very pregnant. I wanted to cry, I wanted to run, I wanted to ask her to leave. I am not as crazy as I may seem so I did none of those things, though I did successfully avoid eye contact with her. But I had to fight the urge to stare. I held my breath when she walked by me at the end of the class. As I felt guilty, overly-dramatic, hyper-sensitive, I calmed myself with the thought that you, IF bloggers and readers, would understand. I am not a bad person; I am not a selfish person. I am a loving and giving person who is terribly hurt and frustrated.....

I had hoped on Friday that I could share the following mindful ruminations with you in ways that allow me to draw a full contrast between the two experiences, but I thought I would share it nonetheless...

When I was in college, my very responsible boyfriend and I had an accident with birth control and I was sick with worry. I had lofty career goals and aspirations at the time. I was an undergraduate but I believed that graduate school was a necessity in order to make change in this world. Looking back I was SO naive! Anyway, when my period did not arrive on time (to our horror!) we sought out a pregnancy test from (what we thought) was a reputable source. I was too afraid to do the test myself, knowing that I wouldn't believe a negative result. We found an ad in our college newspaper for a free and confidential pregnancy test. I made an appointment, my voice shaking, over the phone one day and we went in the next. When we drove up, we hoped that we had written down the wrong address. We decided that we had not and conferred as to whether or not to go into a large white church that allegedly included a clinic of sorts. We decided we might as well get the test and, once we obtained the result, to leave as quickly as possible. We soon learned after our warm welcome into the building that the operation was geared at convincing women not to seek abortions if they were pregnant - and to opt for "reclaimed virginity" if they were. We were led from one office to another, past a parade of children in daycare who were urged to say hello to us. My boyfriend, G, and I glanced at each other in terror as we began to figure out what we had gotten ourselves into. G saw further evidence of this anti-abortion crusade while I was in the ladies room taking the test with the "counselor." He told me later that there were videos with jackets claiming to show a real abortion procedure, including visual representation of the results.

Before the test results were revealed, and as I sat in the office unaware of the videos, we were asked if we would consider abortion if we were pregnant. Deciding to display the fledgling feminist I was becoming (and the angry ex-catholic status that I was adopting), I nodded my head yes. The counselor remained calm but asked us how, as catholics, we could consider murder and how it would threaten our souls with eternal damnation. I began to cry, which the counselor pointed out was evidence that I knew that abortion was murder. HA! If only she knew how easily I broke into tears and how insanely nervous I was. After making sure that she got her point across, the "counselor" told us, with a twinge of disappointment, that the test was negative. G and I exhaled loudly and the counselor proceeded with a prepared speech on a program that would allow us to reclaim our virginity. We finally left, pretending to be interested in the paperwork that we could sign to commit our sexual lives to god until we got married. We nearly ran out of there....

This experience came back to me on Friday afternoon as I sat in my sister's lab waiting for test results. I marveled at how different my life was then - hell, how different I am now - nearly 16 years later. Last time, I was brought into a comfortable room with chairs and couches, not dissimilar from my current therapist's office, yet I couldn't have been more uncomfortable. The test results were kept from me until the counselor had completed her spiel, the job that she probably believed would open heaven's gates to her. I pleaded with a god that I still believed in that he spare me from having to make what might be the most difficult decision of my life. I was contemplating ending a pregnancy in order to have the time and space to make myself whole before becoming a mother. [Of course, I don't know what choice I would have made had I been presented with an unwanted pregnancy.]

Conversely, my sister placed the plastic tester, in which a tiny sample of my centrifuged blood sat, in front of me on a desk in a sterile white room. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I was comfortable but I knew that I was safe - that no matter the outcome, I would be ok. I wished that I had someone or something to plead to for a positive result - at least something less ambiguous than the energy/fate that I believe in currently. I was looking for a positive result, believing that motherhood would complete my life, providing the ultimate challenge and the ultimate reward.

When that test refused to show a red line, I knew that it was over. I knew that I would have to "try again" (my husband's response every month, which he offers with a tinge of sadness in his voice) - that next month and the month after and the month after that might bring the same disappointment. And I felt convinced that that would, in fact, be the case. That disappointment was in my future. That I was still on this damn roller coaster that leaves me sick from the motion, the assents and declines.....