Friday, September 17, 2004

A friend indeed

It has finally happened. I let the little cross-eyed siamese out of the burlap sack today: I told a friend about trying to conceive and the attendant infertility melodrama. I hadn't spilled the whole story to anyone else till today. And you know who pushed me to it?

Dr. Useless.

That's right, Dr. Useless herself. But it wasn't like she called to check on me, found me down and recommended that I seek emotional support from my close friends and family. Instead, what she did was simply not to call with another referral name. Not a word. No. Her contribution was, finally, to piss me off so completely with her unbearable uselessness that I broke down and sought out the only person I know personally who is even familiar with infertility--a former co-worker and friend who used to work in a doctor's office and mentioned one time that she knew a couple of R.E.'s.

I will call her Mother T., since she has something of the presence of the soon-to-be-sainted Teresa who tended the poor in Calcutta's slums. Mother T. is the kind of warm, caring, empathetic woman who rescues dogs, gives blood every month and never stops looking for ways to be kind and helpful to anyone in distress--anyone at all. The fact that she's a devout Catholic and I am a devout athiest has never caused us even a moment's tension; she is too generous in her beliefs to think me a heathen.

If I could have chosen a mother, it would have been Mother T. Of course she would have been only twelve at the time of my birth, but I'm confident she would have had the werewithal to make a go of it anyway. She's just like that. A woman who sees lemons and makes lemonade, and then gives it to anyone who might be a tetch dry.

Mother T. had made it known for quite some time that she thought J. and I should have a baby. I was so flattered when she first said it--long before we decided to give procreation a shot--that I wonder now if that might have given me the first flicker of an inclination.

Anyway, these R.E.'s sound delightful: a gay couple, they have been operating a fertility clinic for more than a decade. And they love Mother T. like family. She will even be checking with them on my behalf to find out whether they take my insurance and get me on the calendar.

Of course, they probably won't and I'll be back to square one. But maybe it's more like square two, since I can now add the sympathy, understanding and hopefulness of one in-the-flesh friend to my arsenal. And I have a feeling that will count for a lot.


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