****Spoiler Alert! if you haven’t seen the season finale of How I Met Your Mother and you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read this.
This little space of the blogoverse has been devoid of my true feelings for a while now. I’ve been stopping, starting, and stopping posts over and over again for the last couple of weeks, and each time I get stuck. I can’t seem to put anything into words.
So – spurred on by – of course – my unending addiction to pop culture, I think I’m ready to break my silence on what’s been going on in my head.
But first – a quick
word from our sponsors medical update. Twofer consulted with the specialists, and they decided to start with the least invasive procedure first. So, I looked at the calendar, guessed (educated guess of course) when AF will be making her appearance, and scheduled the HSG for June 5th.
Now – back to our regularly scheduled
program blog post.
I’ve been going around feeling defeated. For some reason, I thought, perhaps, getting the procedure scheduled would make me feel better. But it didn’t. It made me feel worse. Because what if the HSG shows a blockage? Then I have to wait FSM knows how long to get whatever procedures scheduled and done. And what if it’s clear? Then we’re right back where we started, freaking out and hoping for the best once we start trying again.
It’s a lose-lose. And it all sucks.
Which brings me back – somehow – to last night’s How I Met Your Mother. For those of you who don’t follow the show, here’s the important stuff you need to know for the sake of this post:
The longest lasting couple in the show, Lilly and Marshall, spent the beginning of the season trying to get pregnant. They were kind of having problems, and went to a fertility specialist. Then it all got put on hold when Marshall’s father passed away. Oh, and after that Marshall became unemployed. So yeah. Lilly and Marshall had a crap-tastic year.
At the end of this episode, Marshall has seemingly blown a job interview, because he’s on the verge of getting sick from food poisoning. He gets home, completely broken, and rants about how the last year has sucked for him.
Watching this, all I could do was smile and nod. Hell yeah. This last year has been the suckfest to end all suckfests.
In ten days, Shmerson and I will be celebrating our one year anniversary. And gearing up for what may or may not be a battery of tests and procedures, and for what may or may not be another round of trying without actually knowing what the hell is up with my body.
I can pretty much say that Shmerson and I have had possibly the suckiest first year of marriage possible.
Don’t get me wrong – I love him more today than I did on the day I married him. But we spent our two month anniversary recovering from our first loss, our 5 month anniversary recovering from our second, and we’ll be spending our one year anniversary still recovering from our third, knowing that now – whether or not we get any clear answers, we’re facing even greater challenges ahead.
You’re bang-on Marshall. This last year has sucked!
As the episode draws to a close, Marshall finishes his rant and goes to lie down, convinced that he will be spending the night puking his guts out.
He falls asleep, and wakes up the next morning, realizing that he’s made it through the night, a huge smile on his face.
At that moment Lilly comes to him and announces that she’s pregnant.
We leave the couple at the end of the season, with Marshall’s father still gone, him still unemployed, but there’s sunlight streaming through the window and a ray of hope.
As viewers, we know these guys are going to be fine. That’s kind of a thing with HIMYM. We’re hearing this story from “Future Ted” – a man who’s all grown up, and we see flashes of “old” Lilly and Marshall, as happily married as ever, and presumably with a few kids to boot.
I think that’s both the problem and the wonderful thing about TV. There’s a structure. There’s a comfort. On one hand, it gives us hope, but on the other, it sets up unreasonable expectations.
Although I have to say – that in the case of HIMYM, the producers aren’t afraid to get dark and deep at times. It’s a sitcom, yet they take creative risks. If you’re not a viewer of the show on a regular basis, I would still recommend you watch the episode where Marshall’s father passes away. It’s beautifully handled. Masterfully. The people who make this show are truly artists. And what I love about it is that they even manage to make the cliche’ not completely cliche’.
But once again, I digress. Back to Marshall and Lilly, their crappy year, and why it made me want to blog.
This episode of HIMYM kind of hit a fast forward button. They covered a few months in the course of one episode. Kind of skated over them, explained what happened, and then moved on to the important part of the story.
That’s TV. And especially this show. They love the fast-forward button, The story is told in retrospect, so the viewers already know the outcome.
And sometimes, that’s what I wish my life was. I just want to fast forward through the part where Shmerson and I wait nervously for a diagnosis. I want to fast forward through a first trimester. I want to fast forward and get to the good parts.
I sometimes wish my life was like HIMYM. I still want to live it, but I want a narrator in my head – a “Future Me” – telling me that everything will be ok.
I guess it’s a little like what Shmerson wrote about the other day. I want to know that there’s a grand plan, and I’m not sure if there is one. I know I’m still – on a lot of levels – a victim of fate, or randomness, or whatever. I don’t have a female Ted narrating my life story, telling me that everything is ok.
And that’s what frustrates me most of all. I want one. I really do.
I keep on trying to make sense of things. See a path ahead of me. If X happens then by September we will be here. If Y happens then by this time next year….
And on and on it goes.
As I sat there watching Marshall and Lilly embrace over her pregnancy, I thought to myself that I’ll be seeing this scene again come September, when HIMYM kicks off its next season. Where will I be then? Will I watch it with a newly swelling pregnant belly? Will we be in the same place we are now? Or worse – with more losses and frustration under our belt?
In my head, I was saying “By the time I see this scene again I will be pregnant. And it will be a healthy pregnancy.”
And I guess it gave me some hope. But as I write this I know that thinking this won’t make it true. A few months ago I was convinced Shmerson and I would be celebrating our one year anniversary happily knocked up. That didn’t happen.
So I can’t say where I’ll be when I see that scene recapped in next season’s premier. I can HOPE I’ll be stroking my pregnant belly, maybe crying a tear of joy remembering this blog post. If I had a female Ted narrating my story that’s what I’d want her to say.
But I don’t have a narrator. I don’t know where we’ll be. I don’t know what the grand plan is. That’s what is so terrible about this process. I hope that one day I’ll be able to embrace not knowing and enjoy the moment. But for now – I hate it. I hate not knowing what lies ahead.
Ahh well, at least all it takes for me to put my feelings into words is one episode of a well written television show.
It’s not much, but it’s something.