Writing

My friend Dave recently published a book about his ponderings on daily life as a parent. And since I read Rookie Dad I have been thinking that maybe reflective writing would be a therapeutic thing for me. I used to enjoy journalling but have gotten out of the habit. Then my friend Catherine started sharing some of her writings, and I decided to give it a shot too...

Crush

I have a crush on my fertility doctor. Not the "I've got the hots for you" crush (which is good because he often has to give me vaginal ultrasounds), but the kind where someone is on your mind a lot. I reflect on past encounters with him and analyze tidbits of our conversation. I also imagine possible future scenarios and what I might say. I find him fascinating, and he is currently taking up too much of my mental energy.

I also wonder if this slightly femmy, awkward guy is married or has kids, or is possibly batting for the other team. I try to think up sly ways to ask him about his personal life without seeming intrusive. Last month I was overly curious about where he was going on vacation when he told me he would be out of the office for two weeks, but was too embarrassed to ask him. Unfortunately my curiosity became overpowering, so I asked his nurse on another day. Ha, I was right - Hawaii. I wonder if the nurse thought I was weird.

I confessed my mini-obsession to my husband, and he said that sounded normal and understandable, considering the situation. I have shared lots of intimate moments with this guy, and asked for his help with one of the deepest longings of my heart. And he helps, and devises a strategy, and is on my side.

When I am with this doctor I find myself on the verge of flirting with him, and I have to reign myself in and remind myself that he deals with hundreds of hormonal women, and he is getting paid big bucks to care about my reproductive system. But this last visit I felt a slight shift in the aloof professionalism he previously showed me when he did things in previous visits like quote fertility statistics and tell me my baby didn't have a heartbeat. He is usually so careful to be factual and scientific, and not get sucked into my unanswerable questions. Like the time he went over my test results and told me everything looked great, which meant I had unexplained infertility, and I said "so why aren't I getting pregnant!" in a desperate voice, and he responded "unexplained means I don't know." I counted on him to give it to me straight, and to not get sucked into my anxiety and need for answers.

But this time I think he softened towards me, or maybe just felt sorry for me, and said unhelpful things like "You got pregnant on your first round of Clomid before, so hopefully you'll get pregnant on your first round again."

Excuse me, Doctor, what happened to your normal responses, like "I don't have those statistics" or "Clomid only works 15% of the time" or something else that keeps me grounded and realistic. Excuse me, Doctor, I was counting on you to help me not get swept away with unhealthy optimism, and to remind me that we can't know the future. Don't you realize I have a problem with unknowns? Your "hopefullys" make my mind race with possibilities. And I am trying so desperately to stay open to whatever may come. Because you know what, Doctor, if I don't get pregnant again on Clomid, I am going to be devastated, and your "hopefullys" just make the crash that much harder. For my own health and sanity I need to prepare myself for the "not hopefullys," and you aren't helping. I have friends and family for "hopefullys" and from you I needed a reality check.

I am realizing that this isn't the first time I have developed a fascination with a male in an authority and care taking role in my life. I find myself sometimes drawn towards my pastors and teachers. I had a major crush on my boss two summers ago, and couldn't get him out of my mind. I think maybe its not the men I develop an obsession with, but the way they make me feel. I think I crave the feeling of being taken care of and watched out for and protected.

So I am thankful for these crushes. These mini-obsessions remind me that deep down I long to be cared for, like a child is cared for. And I am thankful that I can go to Jesus with this longing, and find real fulfillment. I heard in a sermon lately that said it is the desperate heart that is most open to Jesus. And though I pride myself for having my shit together, deep down I really am desperate for the love and care that Jesus offers. And I hope I never forget it.