Semester of Calamity, Semester of Worry

With the exception of the year I took between finishing my undergraduate degree and starting my Ph.D. program, time has been measured semester by semester, paced by the academic calendar and syllabus. My wedding? Spring Break. September 11? Classic social theory. My BFP? Corporate and government power. Another semester has nearly passed. I will forever associate it with hurricanes, earthquakes and infertility. It will be recalled as the semester of calamity and worry.

This is the last week of classes for me and I am worn down. Childcare issues, book deadlines, and infertility have worked their collective misery and it hasn't been easy.

My semester recap:

Childcare. I found a stay-at-home mother who wanted to keep another baby. She lives only blocks from campus, so that was a huge plus. Unfortunately, it did not work out. First, I had an unrealistic expectation of how many hours we would need childcare. I was working into the wee hours trying to keep up with my workload, but the other mom was not willing to increase her hours. Then, during the middle of September, the mom watching Baby E took a vacation the same week J was at a conference in Denver. I think I can pinpoint this as the week things went off the rails. In October, the mom decided she wasn't cut out for childcare. I ended up hiring a nanny. Two, actually. More on that later.

Book woes. In October, my publisher (AKA, the Enforcer) came to town for a working visit. This was a disaster. In addition to my being badly behind on the text, I was doing the Clomid Challenge. Hormones and mixed deadlines do not mix. It was an awful visit that ended in vague threats. More on that later.

High FSH. Two hours after my publisher left, Nurse Joy called with my FSH results. I lost it. Totally lost it. That is how this blog began. It was my attempt to get a handle on things. More on that now.

All things considered, I think I am in a better place than I was two months ago. Perhaps the shock has finally worn off. At any rate, I did not turn to pills or therapy as I threatened.

Childcare. So far the nanny thing is working out. Sure, we are broke (seriously, we are spending more than we earn), but E is sleeping well and is doted on all day*. She is surrounded by her own toys and sleeps in her own crib. I don't have to cart her around so she isn't hostage to my cycle. She is learning baby signs and verbalizing more and more. Then there is the bonus that one of the nannies went to cooking school. J says he think it may be legal in South Carolina for us to marry Nanny S. Hmm. . . I always wanted a wife.

The text. I am still seriously behind schedule, so nothing is new there, but I am less stressed about it. I played the worst-case scenario game and realized I could live with the consequences of failure on this. If I lose the contract, I lose the contract. Sure, it will look bad, but I am tenured and it would take more than this for me to lose my position. For that, I'd have to sleep with a student or something**. I am going to make a good faith effort to get a great deal of work done on the books during the month of December, but I am not going to stress over it. Stress is bad for fertility. Oddly enough, this take-it-or-leave-it attitude seems to be increasing my productivity ever so slightly.

Infertility. This is my single biggest source of stress these days. I spend hours I should be writing instead reading up on FSH, antral follicles, wheat grass, IVF protocols and acupuncture. I read infertility blogs. I read everything that tells me I am not alone in this. My phone consultation with Dr. F had to be rescheduled to this Friday. I can't wait. He is playing hard to get and it makes me want him more.

I feel a spark of hope going into exams. I will finish grading this rather large stack of papers***. I will get through grading exams. I will deal with the sniveling grade-mongers. I will start exercising more regularly. I will eat better. I will take my prenatals. I will dream of babies.

* E has a slot in a good child development center starting in May. I have sabbatical next fall so she won't be in full-time care outside the home until well after her second birthday. I can live with that.
** Shoot. I'm tenured. So sleeping with a student probably wouldn't do it. I'm in the Southeast, a real Red state. I could take dubbya's name in vain. That might do it.
***Should probably NOT be blogging right now.