Sunday, October 19, 2008


I woke up nice and late a few Saturdays ago to a disappointing reality: I had broken a finger in my sleep. Sleepy and perplexed, I tried to rummage through the prior night's dreams to see what possibly could have led to such physical duress. Coming up blank, I glanced down to look at the injury, only to realize that the finger in question was not broken at all. It was suffocating.

Overnight, my once slender ring finger had turned into a grotesque purplish sausage. So I did what any normal hysterical pregnant woman would do and quickly scoured my house for every possible lubricating product on hand. I plopped myself down at the dining room table, applied enough lotion to cure an elephant with dermatitis, and after a few minutes of panicked claustrophobia, the finger was freed.

As my wedding band and engagement ring sat on the table in a slippery puddle, I massaged my throbbing finger and weighed my options. It took me seven years to get those rings on my finger, and I wasn't sure how I felt about parting with them so quickly. For goodness' sake, people might look at my big belly and then at my bare finger and start to make judgements. (You've done it. The belly-finger compare. Admit it.)

And then it occurred to me. This may be the perfect therapy for a former infertile. Because there's something about knowing that I got knocked up with a plastic catheter in an operating room that kind of weighs on me. I can (and will, as a matter of fact) argue that getting pregnant through assisted reproduction can be much more a labor of love and partnership than a regular old roll in the hay, but still. Sometimes I just want people to look at my pregnant belly and think, "oh. She must have had sex." If this seems odd, please consider how many times people have learned I'm having twins and commented, "oh. Did you take fertility drugs?" (Next time I'm asked this rudely probing question, I think I will respond: "yes, I did, because they're delicious and taste like Skittles).

So the idea of my newly ring-less finger FAILING The belly-finger compare is sort of totally appealing. People may think that I got pregnant ACCIDENTALLY! And that would mean I'm a fertile myrtle, here with my doubly pregnant belly and not even attached!

Let's just say I scooped those rings up, dried them off, and put them away in a nice, safe place.


Sades said...

I've heard of people wearing them on a necklace during pregnancy. Just an idea, if you get tired of being single!
Don't feel bad about the fertility drugs; you are still doing this whole pregnancy thing on your own, and it is your eggs and Kyle's sperm that made those little babies. All of us have relied on modern medicine to help us get by in life. Sure we can't take them for granted, but we also shouldn't feel guilty or ashamed because we needed them. And those people who ask if you needed fertility drugs don't understand everything that goes along with that. It's not like you're some celebrity who thought twins would be fun so they added a few fertility drugs to the mixture. Those are the people who should feel guilty, and they seem pretty proud of their multiples, so I think you have every right to show off your twin belly and your wedding ring!

(This coming from someone who's 36 weeks pregnant, unpredictably emotional, and who want's nothing more than to be done with pregnancy!)

Jilliane said...

I'm guilty, actually totally guilty of the belly-ring comparison. But I see your point of view...and I kind of like it ;)