So the scotch is on ice and it's made me a tad emotional.
Plus I thought I'd put all the randomness and tangent-inspired postings to one side and focus on something vaguely IVF-y for once. Actually, due to the size and volume of the randomness and tangents, I think it will need two sides. It will easily take up enough room for two sides, so two sides it shall have. That means the following post will form part of the third side.
Is that like a third dimension? Does that mean you will need 3D glasses to read this particular post? Will there be a Blu-Ray Avatar version of it out tomorrow?
Jesus, I can hear you exclaim. First she dazzles us with her polynomial multiplication knowledge (actually, I didn't, I just wrote the two words down, but please feel free to be dazzled) and then she talks some kind of crazy talk about things being squared. Who is this chick? Some kind of Stephen Hawking?
No. I could never hope to fill his shoes. Does he even have shoes? Does he need them? Why do people in wheelchairs need shoes? Or socks. Or feet. That's mean. I apologise, I take that back.
Now what was I saying about avoiding tangents? I got a little lost back there.
Alright, let's go issues-based then. Fine.
Honestly, and I don't want to get all Tears Of A Clown on you, but I have always been someone who defaults to a joke or a sarcastic remark as the instant first response to anything vaguely emotional.
I'm an avoider. It's a coping mechanism. What was that? What deep-seated place does that characteristic come from?
Oh-hoh, look over there! Something shiny - is it a kitten? - it sure does make me laugh. HahahahahahaHAHHA.
Me? I like to break any and all emotional tension with a cleverly crafted crumb of wit...I see myself as a jovial ice pick to be used in social situations. Nothing I like more than to ease an awkward moment with a comment of varying comedic quality, only to have it followed by polite laughter. Phew...order restored, dignity saved, humanity lives to conduct small talk again! That was close.
But then something enormous like making a baby using some random Yankee dude's sperm comes along and ...
"There may be a smile on my face, but it's only there trying to fool the public."
No! I told you this ain't about Smokey, it's not!
All of a sudden I feel completely unprepared. It's like me as a garden variety journalist of questionable talent turning up for an interview to replace the retiring Rupert Murdoch. C.o.m.p.l.e.t.e.l.y. out of my league.
That line from The Castle keeps coming back: "Tell her she's dreaming." (gender reference modified to suit present usage.)
And it's not just about feeling emotionally unprepared...I am not sure my body is ready. Should I be fitter, leaner, have taken part in a Mensa entrance test to check on my mental toughness - or at the very least, done the Facebook IQ challenge?
Should I be sitting in a western-oriented corner for 17 minutes at sunrise while chanting some healing prayer to my ovaries...should I be consulting oracles, drinking rosemary tea, stocking up on crystals, having my aura read, re-jigging the house according to all feng shui principles and putting a silk pouch of garlic and cloves under my pillow while praying to Ashanti, Brigid, Rosmerta, Artemis, Parvati, Mbaba Mwena Waresa and every other freaking fertility goddess for guidance and support?? What???
Thing is, we tried once and it didn't happen. Alright, a negative result after the first go happens ALL the time, ALL over the world. But, to be so disappointed at the very first hurdle kind of cripples your resolve and makes a dent in your hope reserves. How big or small that dent is, well, that depends on the day. But it's a bloody ugly dent nonetheless...like someone has backed into a Maserati and driven off. Away. Gone.
But then we were watching some DVDs of Jay from last year and it made me realise, firstly, how quickly time really does fly; and secondly, how far both he and us have progressed.
Looking at him as a chubby toddler - a real toddler, days after he learned to stand upright - or sitting in his high chair, feeding himself...well, it was shocking to remember how I felt at that moment back there in history.
Worry that he would never know how to hold a spoon, or walk properly without falling over; unbridled anxiety and fear that I wouldn't know what to do, how to react, how to cope if he didn't learn those things, or make progress or if he fell behind or developed some problem.
And then, something of an epiphany. For a split second, sure, all these emotions consumed me. But that was back then, ages ago, and that was before I let life take its course and - guess what? - it bloody worked out!
Somehow we muddled through. Of course we did, that's what we do. Together.
Why can't we do the same this time? And who says we can't have just as spectacular an outcome?