I was laying in bed tonight, and my mind started wandering. To its normal preoccupation. My reproductive system. I was wondering if the egg made it into the actual tube this time, and I found myself picturing the process of an egg erupting from an ovary and swimming the little gap to the safety of the tube. Or not; swimming the wrong way. As I had this mental image in my head, I realized that this ovary was quite large. We're talking tennis racket sized. And this fallopian tube, the diameter of the pitcher I use to water my plants. Why was that? Why was I seeing this super-sized projection as my normal reality? Why when I lay on an exam table in the stirrups, do my ovaries feel like they are beach balls in the corners of the room, and the uterus the size of my torso? Maybe because I am so used to looking to the image on the screen as my reality. Maybe it feels bigger than my body because I am so used to looking outside my body for the answers. But maybe, most likely, it is because this is the size it is in my life. In my day. The process of trying to conceive is a consuming one. The constant blood tests and numerous phone calls to the OB office until the nurse finally calls me back 3 days later with the findings; the calendars, and watches; the daily peeing on little sticks that indicate my happiness. It is all so big. Such a big part of my concern, my schedule, my preoccupations. This little reproductive system, probably no larger than my open palm, fills the room. Fills my evenings when the night is still and I am left to my thoughts alone.
2 weeks ago