It’s been quite the week. It started with me getting on a phone call along with everybody else in my division at work (about 30 of us) and being told by our VP that we’re all fired. Just like that. Mass execution style. Of course they didn’t say it like that…something about “restructuring” and “redundancies” but the end result is the same: we are, all of us, jobless. They’ve given us a chance to fight over the smaller number of jobs they will post in the new divisions they’re creating. Naturally, this notion turns all of our stomachs. This is an organization I’ve dreamed of working for since I was a little girl, but the sheen has worn off steadily over my 2 years of employment here, and at this point, I have to say I’m not sad to be leaving, although I am a bit sad about the sheenlessness.
I knew that I didn’t have another year of this job in me and had actually started looking around a few months ago, but the more I looked, the more I realized that my head was just not in the game. Much as it seemed prudent to take the next step in my career, I found all I really wanted to do was have babies. (By the way, if twenty-year-old me had seen me pen those words, she probably would have hurled herself from a precipice to save me from such a fate..it’s amazing how things change.) At any rate, lacking the gumption to throw myself heart and soul into a new venture, I was kind of toying with the idea of lingering on in a job I was growing to hate in hopes of getting pregnant and still having benefits, mat leave, etc. I have now been saved from that fate. I feel like the air just got a lot cleaner.
So that was Tuesday. On Saturday I got artificially inseminated. When I got the news about being laid off, I was already well into my superovulation drug cycle and had been injecting myself with hormones every day. It was determined that I would be doing my own injections after my husband dangerously straddled a line between puking and passing out during the orientation wherein the nurse was merely describing what was going to happen. Bless him, he’s got many strengths, but biology isn’t one of them. Fortunately, the procedure itself turned out to be a non-event compared to the lead up – for both of us. It was nowhere near as bad as the HSG, and much quicker than the nurse’s description of it.
So now I wait. And look to the future, which must include employment somewhere, and hopefully, before too long, will involve little follicles growing into embryos growing into fabulous little humans – and enough income to feed said humans.
I’m finding at the moment that I’m able to wait with a measure contentment and peace, for which I am thankful. And I find myself currently in touch with the reality that my joy, my fulfillment, my raison d’etre, is not tied to any specific outcome. That whatever happens, I will be loved, there will be cause for gratitude, and I will have the power to choose, even if it is merely to chose the direction in which I will turn my heart. And that will be enough.