The text will always, or nearly always, be behind a cut tag for easy skipping.
So here I am, thinking, I'm so over this little issue with the whole infertility thing. I'm okay with living single and childless forever (minus the single part). I didn't have my usual crying ritual with my last period, so I'm all good, right?
So last night, we're having a conversation about how Kevin is getting a bit big for his chair, and soon he'll be out of the high chair and into a chair at the table. And B said something about how the next expansion is going to mean we won't all fit in the kitchen.
C asked if B had something she needed to share with the class.
And B said, I have a brother! He's married! He could have children.
And I turned beet red and for a second I couldn't breathe at all and then I thought, "I'm just going to burst into tears right now from the unbelievable pain I suddenly feel."
And then I explained to myself that wouldn't. WOULD NOT. I leaked slightly, but I think it was okay.
Hoppie's dad diffused the situation by explaining that it's pretty unlikely that hoppie would get pregnant.
Then we went off into a discussion of Arnold's movie where he's pregnant and scientific implantation of uteruses into men.
And I pointed out that, as hoppie is unlikely to be willing to go through that, probably not.
And I didn't cry (much).
But I have since thinking about it. And some self-mocking. I really thought I'd come to terms with...me. Not pushing the envelope. Just being me and the things I have the natural capacity to handle. But apparently, not so much. Humans and their infinite capacity for self-deception and preservation. It's hard to believe that took me surprise.
The good news, if any there be, is that at least I'm not numb. So I can walk away with that, at least.