I Don't Know How to Do This.

My friend just had a baby. This was the friend who used to commiserate with me about "infertility." Turns out, she wasn't infertile. Not even a little bit. I might be. We don't know yet. What did that old Magic Eight Ball used to say? "Signs Point to Yes."

Anyways. I don't know how to commiserate with her. She tells me about no sleep, or little sleep, or bad diaper changes, and I try to put a sympathetic look on my face. I don't know how convincing my expressions are. Something makes me think they might look less like compassion, and more like wide-eyed, tight-lipped nodding.

This hurts. Sometimes I can ignore it for awhile...push it deep enough to where I think I might not care about having babies anymore. But I do. I am trying to distract myself as best as I can. I'm finishing the first draft of my first novel. I'm tiling back-splashes, repainting our bedroom, and framing art. I'm starting a business so I can quit my job.

I had my first visit with the dildo-cam last week. They took pictures of my lady bits, to see if I am capable of making a baby. They took pictures to find out what's wrong with me. I was supposed to hear back from my doctor the next day. It has been over a week, and they just called and left a message yesterday. I am scared to get the results. If they are bad, well, that sucks. If they are good, that means we get to go onto some other, new and exciting tests.

I turn thirty this month. I have wanted a baby for over four years.