I watched CNN for a while. Well, actually it was only about twenty minutes but it felt a lot longer. And I didn’t even learn much about the situation in the Middle East. They were talking about the candidates for some kind of an election in the States. I’m not too into politics at the best of times, but American politics? No thanks. So I started to channel surf.
Jeopardy intrigued me for a little while, only because the people on it have the dullest lives. Ironically, they are so dull that they make the show interesting. The one guy began by telling this painfully bland story about walking his dog in the park when his dog (and here’s the kicker) caught somebody else’s Frisbee, which caused quite a ‘brouhaha’ (as you might imagine). He was absolutely beaming as he told this story. You could just tell that this was the highlight of his life, the wildest thing that has ever happened in his life. His dog caught an errant Frisbee. I almost felt sorry for him. But then he won thirty thousand dollars in final Jeopardy, so I stopped feeling sorry for him. He may be a bit dull but his brains will get him by quite nicely.
By then end of the day I was getting bored. I started to look around the room, trying to decide which items I would bring with me in the event of a fire. There were only a few things. The photograph of my baby niece, Sam. The jewelry box my dad got me the year before he died. And maybe, time permitting, the afghan that my grandma knit for me years ago. Interesting, I reflected. The only things I’d chosen were those items with some sort of sentimental value. It was like an ink blot test, it offered up rich data about a person’s inner values and feelings. For example, had I chosen my make up and mirror, it could be said that I was vain. If I had chosen my lap top and papers from work it could be said that I was a workaholic. I wonder if I could get this published in Modern Psychology as a new psychometric tool for assessing personality. The phone interrupted me from my reverie. I cringe when I saw my moms name on the phone.
Now, you know that I had planned on telling my mom about this whole surrogate thing as soon as the details were finalized. But then I started thinking- perhaps it would be wiser to just wait and see what happens first. Because in reality, they say that it usually takes two or three attempts at in vitro before it’s successful. So there’s a high probability that I won’t get pregnant, anyways. And why cause all that drama if it turns out that nothing comes of this? Right? Even though I know it’s perfectly logical, I can’t quite help but feel a tug of guilt as I consider answering the phone. The problem is I need to try to avoid her for two weeks, when we get the results of the pregnancy test. I don’t think I can keep it from her if I see her face to face. I’ve been dodging her calls for some time now, afraid that I would spill everything as soon as I heard her voice.
The ringing let up. A stab of disappointment shot through me. My mom and I had always been close. It’s wasn’t like me to keep secrets from her. I guess I really should have just told her, but the thing is is that it was not that easy to bring up.
Nothing much. I might be carrying my boss’s baby, or rather, babies, but other than that, same old, same old.
You get the point.
It’s just not something that lends itself to casual conversation.