The Box

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I got another lesson in things not always being what they seem yesterday.

Truth be told, yesterday was one of those days where I think it might have been altogether better to just stay in bed and opt out. But my sense of obligation propelled me forward. Despite be feeling physically horrid, my mind was racing because hi, have you met me? It’s what MY mind does. I valiantly make it in to work and am in the throes of being productive when I get a phone call from the company mail room informing me that I have a “box”. Oh okay… OHHH… It’s the IVF meds. Okay. According to AG’s description last year… it’s about the size of a duane reade’s shopping bag. So I should be cool to take it home on the train and it’ll be okay. But the mailroom guy is asking me if I wanted to come take a look at it. Sure. Why not. I got to the mail room and there was a box… the size of the kind of box you’d store your Christmas tree in at the end of the season. T’was HUGE. I was stopped dead in my tracks. Because…. WTF?? It wasn’t terribly heavy, but it was cumbersome so I had homeboy wheel it back to my area and he sat it on the floor and I just… stared at it. Hadn’t opened it yet but read and re-read the words “PERISHABLE” “REFRIGERATE UPON ARRIVAL” over and over on the box. Placed a quick call to the med company that sent them to make sure that they’re on ice packs in there so they won’t melt or degrade or whatever it is that these meds do. What to I know of meds??? I don’t take aspirin. As a kid, when I had a tummy ache, mommy boiled some clove tea for me, hung a bulb of garlic around my neck and put one or two in my socks and sent me to bed. I woke up ALWAYS feeling better (smelling pretty rank – but FEELING better). So what do I know of hormones and stimulants and all this kind of stuff??? I could run my own black market with all the prescriptions of morphine and vicodin they’ve prescribed for me in the past that I just didn’t fill because – WHY? If the pain is not mind numbing, why pump myself full of chemicals just to “ignore it” It’s not going to “heal” the pain — just make me oblivious to it. I’ll pass. Save my system for something substantial should it be needed.

Maybe this is it.

I sent a frantic BBM to Aisha with a picture of the box and she talked me off my ledge a little. I admitted that it’s hard for me to not have the first thought out of my head be “why me?” “Why me and how come there are so many people who can do this baby thing EFFORTLESSLY and completely take it for granted – but me who desperately wants a family has to jump through flaming hoops at the mere CHANCE of having one?” It felt very unfair. I updated my FB status to state how I wished that somewhere in the countless dimensions and realities out there that there is a Victoria who is spoiled and over privileged; who never has to “hunker down” or “grit her teeth” or “fight the good fight”. She just gets anything she wants when she wants it and how she wants it. Very much the Paris Hilton of her reality. Knowing she’s out there would give me a sense of balance. Because I’ll do all of this… Pay thousands of dollars… inject myself with more hormones than have EVER been in my body… Go under the knife again

ONLY FOR THE CHANCE — Not even a guarantee that it’ll work. Maybe even an opportunity for my heart to be broken again because it doesn’t take…

But it’s the risk I have to be willing to take and the fear I have to overcome if I’m ever to know if I was supposed to be a mom on this planet.

Please pray for me.



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