I’m not sure if it was anxiety nausea, actual nausea or that nausea you get when you reach a breaking point.
Today, after well over a year of going to my fertility clinic, I finally had to tell them to stop.
Please stop calling me Teressa.
My actual doctor always calls me Terry, but the rest of the staff does not.
It’s not their fault, it is my name on all the paperwork. It’s my name, LEGALLY on my birth certificate, license, passport — but it’s not my name. I don’t answer to it, I’ve never used it (except for a few months in my 20’s when I thought I wanted to take on my French ancestry–by changing my name to Teressa De’Merrill–in an attempt to escape my Griswold-Clampett-esque roots). Not even I could buy into this.
It drives me nuts when ANYONE uses it but my mother. And she only uses it when she is mad at me followed by Louise — so you can see how it’s use might send me into a different sort of place. No one calls me just Teressa. No one.
So today, I finally said something (in a nice way) and then I felt guilty about it. Knowing me, this could have caused the nausea. I have a sensitive stomach like that.
I was not well enough to go to my yoga session with Ellen this afternoon because we were supposed to work on more advanced jump backs and balances. Instead, I opted to get on my mat and do a full 75-minute static stretch for my back and hips and a short 10-minute meditation.
When I was younger, I would put on Barbra Streisand’s Broadway Album and hold a stretch for one entire song — sort of like restorative yoga. I did this for the full album.
Putting It Together starts playing and it immediately takes me to The Boston Conservatory of Music (BCM) where I went to college. I know I have been rambling on about country music for more than a month, but there was a time when I would only listen to show tunes. My static stretch sessions with Barbra were part of this period in my life.
I started on my left side because it hurts the most. As I’m holding a twist I unwind back to one of my very first days of college. It was 1987. We were a small class. Really small. We sat in a circle where we had to tell a story about ourselves and give a description to our name.
The name I gave myself in that circle has stuck with me to this day.
It’s my turn and I said, “I’m Tall Terry from Texas.”
My story was about Buffy the cow. I proceeded to tell everyone about how the baby cow’s mama had died and when Mawmaw brought her to the barn, I named her Buffy (I named everything Buffy when I was little). The first night the baby was alone in the barn, I was beside myself with worry about this motherless baby cow. I literally couldn’t sleep. I waited until Mawmaw was asleep, got my flashlight and went out to the barn with a blanket and crawled in the hay with Buffy. Mawmaw was a light sleeper, so I know I couldn’t possibly have been in there all night. However, it was long enough to make her “see red”. This was her term for being mad. And, oh, was she mad.
Not as mad as the time when I decided to go for a SWIM in the cow pond. She was checking me for ticks (among other things) for a week.
I drove from Milwaukee to Minneapolis to see my friend Spring from BCM in Bye Bye Birdie in 1992, we went to the state fair and made sure to take a picture of me petting a cow. I have no idea why we went to the state fair.
Adelaide’s Lament comes on about half-way through my restorative session. At this point I was stretching my IT Band … always a fun stretch. I can’t hear this song without thinking about my dear friend, Shannon. She played Adelaide in Guys and Dolls at BCM. We were roommates and now friends for 24 years. Wow.
After decorating our kitchen with a black and white linoleum tile floor and buying red curtains — we decided it would be a GOOD idea to buy a chimp. Yes, a chimpanzee. I don’t know whether we had watched Bedtime for Bonzo (which I can’t imagine that was it, Shannon would never willingly watch a Ronald Reagan film) or we had just decided chimps were cute.
The exact origin of our desire to co-mother a chimp will always be a mystery to us.
Luckily for us and the chimp, he cost $1900. We found ways to come up with the $200 to decorate the kitchen, but the chimp was way out of our price range.
As I fold back into plow pose Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man comes on, and I think about Jonathan. All the duds I had to wade through. All the mistakes. And I just laugh, again. I do a lot of that these days.
Those “mistakes” were my life. I think about how all the “mistakes” connect to the things that were absolutely not mistakes … suddenly it turns the mistakes into miracles.
The more you try to wrap life up with a presentable bow, the less presentable it becomes to you or anyone else.
With each passing day of this journey, I realize this more deeply.
The final song for shavasana was Somewhere. It was the perfect ending to my restorative practice today. Afterwards I did a 10-minunte-ish meditation session. I ended it when Boomer got in my lap.
We got the schedule for the egg donor cycle today.
Everything is a go, and if all goes according to plan, they’ll be taking out the Girl Who Likes Chicken n’ Dumpling’s eggs on Day 60.
A complete coincidence. I like it.