I.V.Effed: No Sex, No Lies, and No Videotape

Wednesday morning, I’m just getting my mail, probably humming a little tune as I open the door…and proceed to trip over a large box.  I LOVE packages.  Love them.  My heart speeds up just a little bit each time I see a Fed Ex or UPS or heck, even USPS truck slow as it nears my house.  I even like getting my fertility meds–and my need for high dosing means lots more packages!  But.  I knew soon enough not to be excited by this particular package.  The outside was not brown and new and inviting or red white and blue…it had a little baby on it, cradled in its moms hands.  Free formula.  Great.

I grabbed the mail from the mailbox and left the package at the door.  When Husband came home nine hours later, he pointed out the package on the front steps.  I told him to look closer at it, and yet he still looked puzzled.  So I kindly informed him and that it was sent just in case I was having a really good day, not feeling sad or blue, not thinking about miscarriage or IVF or babies or whatever….it was sent just so I could remember not to forget.  I was able to say it with a wry smile, because that’s they way it’s easiest to handle.   Poor husband.  Sometimes he just doesn’t get it.  Okay, mostly he just doesn’t get it.  But that’s okay.  We’ve come to terms with that…

This is the second time I have received a large box of baby-goodies in the past six weeks or so.  I made the mistake of opening the first, only to note that the enclosed letter started out, “Dear C, As your pregnancy is coming to an end and you are beginning to think more about nourishing your baby on the outside….”  Argh.  So I knew not to open the second.  Or the free newborn diapers that came sometime in between formula box one and formula box two.

Here’s my question, world:  How did I get on The List to begin with?  Did my RE, all confident and assured as I left his office for the alleged final time back in February, call The Listkeeper of All Pregnancies and put my name down?  Doubt it.  And I’ve been back about twenty times since.  Just saying.  He’s only ever called ME once, and even that was a tough call for him to make.  It couldn’t have been one of the nurses, they’re so busy.  So who, then?  My mom does have quite a mouthpiece on her…but there’s a limit to the amount of people she could have told.

And this begs the next question: Why am I not CROSSED OFF the list?  It would’ve been common courtesy for the original caller to give The Listkeeper a follow-up call when things went awry.  You know, so he could x off my name or something.  It would benefit both parties–they could send their free samples to someone who might actually need them, and I could not have to see what someone out there thinks I have, but don’t.

For the record: I have not thrown any of the samples away.  That seems like tempting fate, or sealing the deal, or closing the door on future Listmaking.  They all sit in the corner of my garage, just patiently waiting.

In: August 09 | | #