Jennifer & I hashed it out last night… I mean, we’re talking the kind of yelling, crying, cussing, nasty-ass brawl that only sisters can have and still love each other when it’s over. And then we both cried *together* for the first time since, well, a really long time.
And then we made a deal: Jennifer promises to occasionally ask me how I’m doing and really listen to the answer even if it’s sad and unpleasant. And I, Sarah, promise to stop being hateful and mean and bitchy about and to her.
To seal our deal, I picked her & Mag up this afternoon in Bobby’s convertible, and we went to Sonic Happy Hour for slushies. The slushy machine was broken, but our good time was not deterred. Is it child endangerment to have a 1-yr-old in a convertible with the top down? I drove really, reeeeeeeeeally slow, just in case.
And Jennifer locked us out of the house, so I squeezed my giant ass through her tiny bathroom window because she’s pregnant and I didn’t want her to endanger the Doughbaby. She screamed with laughter while I hung upside down with my head on her toilet and my legs flailing in the air outside the window, and Maggie, in a very worried voice, said “Sassy? Sassy? Sassy? Sassy?”
And then we talked. Really, actually talked. And she had some great questions — proof that I really do need her input because my brain just doesn’t work like hers.
Q&A Session with Jennifer:
Jen: Did you really mean it when you wrote on your blog that you wanted to live far away from me?
Me: Nope. I was very sad, and at the time, I thought that living far away from you would make me feel better. But I was wrong… living far away from you & Mag would actually make me sadder. I retract that statement.
Jen: Why don’t you and Bobby just go to the fertility doctor NOW instead of taking a chance on having a 3rd miscarriage?
Me: Excellent question, Jennifer, thank you for asking. I know that going to the RE now is probably the more proactive approach. But I think I need to prove to myself that I actually DO have a problem. The miscarriages happened so close together that part of me thinks (hopes) that whatever was wrong might have corrected itself.
Jen: What about adoption?
Me: Adoption definitely would be an option for us, but we have to beat the fertility thing to death first.
Jen: Is the cost of fertility treatments keeping ya’ll from going?
Me: Well, obviously $250/hr plus $1000’s for treatments isn’t FUN by any means, but Bobby and I are willing to take out a loan if that’s what we have to do to have a family.
Jen: Do you think that Dr Jerry is still helping you? Or maybe he’s actually making things worse because he’s making you stay inside your head all the time?
Me: Um, don’t know. Maybe. I need to think about that one. But that’s a really good question.
Jen: So if you get pregnant again and have another miscarriage, are you going to be completely devastated again?
Me: Probably, although I really wish I knew how to minimize the damage.
Jen: Maybe you should pretend that you’re Bobby. You know, make everything into a joke. Then maybe it won’t hurt quite so much.
Me: Huh. Not sure how to do that.
Jen: Just have a personality transplant. No biggie.