Riding to Auckland
What gets to me most about this – (ok, well, maybe not the most, but it’s one of the things that’s hardest about getting my mind to let it go) – is that it’s all been for nothing. I’m no closer to a baby than I was when we started this little adventure in procreating two years ago – further away, in fact – and that makes me nuts.
I like to make plans, and then follow through on them. You can do all sorts of big things if you set your mind to taking one step, then another. I have traveled all over the world on my bicycle that way. You ride one mile, then another, then another, and if you don’t stop riding, then you get where you were heading in the first place.
This, though, this is something different. This is: you start riding, all enthusiastic and excited. You get about a quarter of the way there, then a typhoon blows you back to where you started and you stare around in disbelief. How could this have happened? You don’t want to go through that again – and besides, you’ve seen that first quarter of the ride. You really don’t want to see it again. But you really wanted to get to Auckland; you’ve heard they have some of the best falafel in the world. Not to mention the orange juice. So you get back on your bike and you start riding again, trying to distract yourself with thoughts of chickpeas and citrus. The scenery’s not as interesting this time around, and it’s really hard to stay on target – both physically and mentally, because every little breeze has you ducking for cover. Some days the wind is blowing you nearly off your bike. Some days you’re riding uphill all damned day long. Some days trucks run you off the road. Some days you get chased by mean dogs. But then you’re back to where you left off from, there, on the highway to Auckland, close enough you start seeing license plates for where you’re heading. It’s getting closer!
Then a typhoon comes and blows you back to where you started. And then you pick yourself out of the dust, tune up your bike – which got seriously fucked up by the typhoon – and start riding again. You’re really bloody angry this time, especially when you see a pellaton of riders just blowing by you without a care in the world. They have the goddamned wind at their backs while you’re riding into it – how is that fair – or possible? Jesus. A couple of them have been to Auckland and back already and are now on their second trip. Jerks.
While you’re distracted by all the other riders going so much faster than you, you fail to notice that the winds are picking up in earnest now, and before you can say, “Hey, wait for me, guys!” you’re scooped up by another typhoon and desposited right back where you started.
You’re pretty sure the goddamned typhoons are laughing at you.
Life isn’t supposed to work like this. My brain has a really hard time dealing with this, on a basic level. When you exert great physical and mental effort, you’re supposed to end up closer to your goal rather than further away from it. I have been pregnant for 33 weeks out of the last year, and I have nothing to show for it. I am, in fact, further from being a mother than I was before we started this. Baffling, actually. An ‘A’ for effort, but definitely an ‘F’ for actual productivity.
I have a post-op appointment with my doctor in a week just so he can make sure I’m not dying of infection or, you know, suicidal or anything. The genetic testing won’t be in yet, and he’s always unhappy about discussing stuff with me until we know what we’re dealing with. But I’m probably going to be difficult – surprise! – and try to get him to talk to me about what comes next – ie: specifically what a donor cycle would look like, timewise. I need to be able to count down to something. I need to feel that although it might be a long slow road I’m on, I’m ON it already, damnit.
Right now, I’m cleaning all the dust out of all the crevices of my bike. I might change out the chain, possibly the derailleur, because they’ve both taken a beating this year and I don’t want either to fail in the crunch of a long ride. And until it’s time to get on the road, I need a map to pore over while I try to fall asleep. I need to feel like I’m preparing and planning so that I won’t be caught unaware by anything. I need travel books to dream over, and I need to be able to believe that this time it will be different. This time I will be able to get all the way to Auckland, and the falafel and orange juice waiting for me at the end of the road will be worth it.