Flotsam

Well, I have been tagged.

THE RULES:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.

Here is the 5th sentence of my 23rd post:

“This is useful in providing some context for future rants about doctors, cycles, etc.—it gives readers a jumping off point, a way to connect present fury with past disappointments, present symptoms with past diagnoses.”

Not very interesting, is it?
But…here are the first and last sentences of my 23rd post:

“As a student at Sarah Mawr, I once had the great misfortune of sitting through a film that consisted entirely of shots of the student filmmaker’s vagina.”

And

“Stay tuned for Part Two–-Not Without My Uterus: The College Years”

Much better, no?
As for tagging others, well So Help Me God, it seems like everyone has already been tagged, so if you haven’t…
You’re It.

I saw my Nearly In-laws this weekend, and talked to my Nearly MIL (who is a former L&D nurse) about PCOS and my fertility situation. She was so much more empathetic than my own mother that it would have been comical if it weren’t so…not comical.
My Nearly MIL told me that my Nearly SIL (who is a few years younger than me) has confidently divulged her own childrearing plans—down to the month she and her husband will get pregnant, timed to dovetail with their law school graduations. My Nearly MIL sighed and said “I don’t think they realize it’s not always that simple.”
But I was instantly possessed with a certainty that it probably will be, that my Nearly SIL will be pregnant before I am—which shouldn’t matter one whit, I keep telling myself sternly. And I hope it is easy for her, that she sees the double pink lines and is able to be instantly ecstatic, thinking What will we name it? instead of When will I miscarry? She is a smart, kind, funny girl, and I wish her well. But I cannot imagine going to her baby shower, or opening the inevitable birth announcement, without feeling weak, truly weak, with misery.

I was going to write a lengthy post about something else, but I haven’t the energy just yet. It is too sad and complicated, and I am exceedingly lazy. I will do it tomorrow, (’fiddle-dee-dee!’ said Scarlett) I swear on a stack of thesauri.