You may remember several weeks ago I wrote that I had been distant in part because Mr. Isis and I are trying to have a baby. Early last month we went up to our vacation spot and tried to conceive Little Isis v2.0. Or, rather, I happened to be fertile during the period we were scheduled to be at the Isis family vacation spot. Believe me. My ideal conception story does not involved a sunburned Isis having sex missionary style in a room nestled between Mr. Isis’s parents and 90+ year old grandmother. Especially when Grandma Isis’s hearing is still spot on.
What I haven’t told you is that toward the end of July I saw two blue lines. I told Mr. Isis, some friends, and Dr. Triple Threat, who I tell most things. Then on Friday my lower back started to hurt. On Saturday I felt generally like ass. On Sunday I started to have some bleeding, and by this morning I looked like Carrie.
You might remember that I am in the process of moving labs. Today I had a meeting with the facilities manager and some folks from the physical plant who will renovate the space to fit our needs. The problem is that we have to be out of our old space and in to our new space in three weeks. So, these renovations have to happen fast. What do I decide to do?
Go to the meeting.
There I stood all morning, crampy and with embryo falling out of me, deciding where I want our new MilliPore water system, how many 220V outlets we need, and what kind of floor we’d like. All the while, Dr. Triple Threat kept asking me if I was alright. Somehow that dude can read me. I was crampy and uncomfortable. I told him he could come by my office later. When he did and I told him what was up, he told me to go home.
But the question was, go home and do what? Sit aorund? Feel sorry for myself? Watch some Tyra Banks and eat Haagen Daz? While their rum raisin is my favorite, I just am not sure what I was supposed to do at home, other than maybe work on a manuscript. Unless someone has created a new kit for at home uterine repair, I am not sure what I am supposed to do at home.
I told Dr. Triple Threat as much. He chuckled and told me, “Well at least don’t lift anything.”
I don’t think that will be a problem.