Introducing, Tallulah!
I rarely blog about this stuff, but I just HAD to kitten blog today because on Friday, the day after we learned our first attempt at IVF didn’t work, Marco and I brought home the sweetest little cat.
Our loved ones’ reactions to our news ran the gamut. “Maybe you should have started sooner,†said a loving but disappointed mother-in-law.  Little did she know, bless her expectant heart, we did. My mother responded with sympathetic tears. The woman knows a thing or two about fertility woes (cue my book Only Child). My friends responded with the requisite “oh shit,†“am so sorry,†and “there’s always next time.â€Â That’s what we Chicagoans used to say about the Cubs.
Marco and I mourned, each in our own way, taking a break from our 24/7 fixation on the election. I miss those 12 cells, said my sentimental husband, who mourns a little each time he leaves a place he knows he won’t see again soon. What happens to the embryo? he asked. It gets reabsorbed into my tissue, goes back to the Mother Ship, I joked. He found that reassuring. I want a kitten, I said.
And after two days of sadness, we headed to Kitty Kind adoption center after work. It was Halloween, and I happened to fall in love with the first black cat I saw. Cliché, I know, but I felt uplifted by that purring ball of fur. Its bear-shaped face and kittenish exuberance melt me, make it hard to feel self-pity. Marco and I passed the adoption test with flying colors (thank you, Davy!) and brought the kitten home.
It’s not exactly a baby, but it’s ours.
I’m sad. But we’ll keep trying. I am a Chicagoan after all. I’m grateful for the deep happiness I’ve found with Marco, for an incredibly satisfying career as a working writer, and for being born at a time in history where technology can sometimes work miracles–even if it can’t turn back the clock.
To all you other mid-to-late-30somethings-pushing-and-just-over-40-women-trying-to-have-a-child: solidarity. Don’t doubt your choices. There are good reasons we’ve lived non-linear lives.
Like Tallulah, to whom the world still seems new each day, I have little truck for regret.
And now, back to the election, and MSNBC.