Fried Eggs And Scrambled Brain
I hesitate to even write today’s blog post as I’ve been in a mood lately. I pride myself on always taking a humorous view to life’s little problems but these days, I feel like I’m terminally PMS. I’m not sure what the hell is going on with me. I would describe myself as stressed, tired, overwhelmed, jealous, resentful, frustrated with occasional swings of deep appreciation. Dear god… I sound bipolar. I’m going to be 40 later this year and although I sincerely don’t have any emotions or strong feelings about it on the surface, the fertility implications are getting to me. I already have bad eggs but now that 40 is looming, I see in my mind the fertility chart that doctors show you where you see your fertility plunging in a big, fat, dramatic green line. Infertility + Age = A clusterfuck. It’s hitting me hard that my dream of having a big family is pretty much over and that is no doubt at the heart of my very poopy mood. As you know, I work at the Patient Care Manager of FertilityAu...