Eggs, But No Breakfast

It’s 10:03 AM and I have had no tea, no food, not even a sip of water. This is because today is the day when I go under general anesthesia for the first time in my life and have the products of two weeks worth of injections sucked out of my ovaries for fertilization and eventual reimplantation. Wow. Quite the way to spend a Friday afternoon.

Ugh. It takes not having any caffeine to realize why we drink it. I feel like I’m sleepwalking. Or, in this case, sleep blogging.

Meanwhile, markets continue to crash, John McCain and Sarah Palin make headlines for the violence, vitriol, and bloodthirstiness of their rallies, while the Obama campaign announces that it has purchased half an hour of network TV in late October to show a 30-minute-long infomercial. (All sing: “One of these things is not like the other…”) Good for him. He needs every leg up he can buy to fight the unbelievable ignorance, fear, and xenophobia percolating — nay, overflowing — in this country.

It is really strange and disconcerting to be trying to get pregnant at such a volatile time. One tells oneself that it’s always felt like this to those considering parenthood — that the act of having a child, by the very gravity of its nature, makes the world ever appear more dizzying, fearsome, and chaotic. I’m sure. Still, things feel particularly unstable right now. One almost feels like one should be in the basement fitting a bunker out with food and water, (a la Pandemic Training) rather than trying to create new life.

Yet we fare forth with high hopes. Insane? Perhaps.