I went to the doctor today for an exam I scheduled months ago (read: pre-Clomid) and despite the fact that it was just a check-up, I thought I could finagle some pregnancy-related blood work out of the visit. As it turns out, my doctor, while really positive and excited for me about the actual ovulation that occurred for the first time ever, did not send me downstairs to the lab for a blood test asap. Instead, she told me to keep testing and wait another week before calling her to reevaluate, which I’m sure makes her a normal person. Perhaps telling your doctor 14dpo (days past ovulation, for those of you who don’t own a conception-to-English translation dictionary) that you haven’t gotten a positive test result yet isn’t really as compelling as I thought it was. We shall see.
In other news, my husband left yesterday to chaperone a week-long mountain backpacking trip with a class through the school where he teaches. As a chaperone, his plane flight and backpacking expenses were all fully funded and he was so excited to go live out his expedition dreams – he’s been talking about it for months (The man has favorite “survivalist” YouTube channels. There could not be a trip more perfect for him). However, having him gone is throwing me for a loop. I realized after he left that last night was going to be the first time in the history of my life that I would sleep alone in an empty house. I lived at home, and then in the dorms, and then with roommates in an off-campus apartment and then with my husband. We’ve been apart when I’ve flown to school conferences, but even then, I was always in a shared room. Needless to say, last night was rough. I’ve become a no-nonsense jerkface in my old age, but I was still a little unnerved being home by myself. I went out with some friends to The Viper Room in West Hollywood (and by “went out,” I mean, “saw an 8 pm show, had an hour-long dinner and was home by 10:30 pm”) and when I came home to an empty house, without the promise of my husband coming to bed eventually, I was unsettled and sad and couldn’t really sleep.
It’s been a day and a half and I already miss him enormously. I can’t believe I’ve got to go the rest of the week. The worst part (worse even than sleeping alone): he is cell phone free for the entire time. He called last night and won’t be able to call again until they’re back at “base camp.” Ugh. In a time when we can contact anyone we want at any time, the thought of not speaking to my husband for an entire week makes me feel heavy. That is the best way to describe it. Heavy and like all the fun and vibrancy is gone. Our house is so boring with just me in it.
Is that depressing enough?