Alien Brainsuckers Stole My Man!

Firstly, many thanks to all you blogging muffins for your kind comments. I can say- without exaggeration- that because of you, I had a reason to get out of bed the last two days.

I wish I could say that I am feeling lots better, but that would be somewhat untrue, since there is still a wee bit of drama going on here at the Barn. Actually, a lot of the drama is probably all in my head. Hard to tell, since I am so hormonal at the moment, like an electrical wire stripped bare. Listen, can you hear the synapses popping and crackling? I can assure you that I am normally as soft and fluffy as a little kitten. But- when I am in this frame of mind- I will quite happily, and with very little provocation, rip someone a new one.

How unfortunate then that E. should pick this particular moment to allow himself to be kidnapped by alien brainsuckers. Because that can be the only possible explanation for the conversation we had last night on the phone.

[Editor's note For those of you who are just joining in, and wondering why I seem to spend so much time on the phone to E. the answer is here.]

By way of background to our conversation last night, I should explain that, given we have this three month interlude in which to give the au natural method one last college try, I've been quietly doing a little background research on adoption. I'll go into what I have learned about adoption in more detail in another post- but as to why I've been looking, well, there a couple reasons for this. Firstly, I am a "big picture" kind of girl, and I like to have a sense of how all the various processes & options hang together. And I am aware that the adoption procedure in this country can have a very long lead-time, plus there are other scary factors like age limits and the requirement to be married.

Secondly, I must confess to suddenly having major qualms about leaping on the ART Express Line to Hell. Again, more on that another time. But I can tell you that my current state of mind is saying not "bring on the drugs", but rather "oh, fuck that noise". In light of that, I think it no bad thing to begin to at least get a handle of some of the fundamentals of adoption here.

Anyyway, I mentioned to E. on the phone last night that I've been in touch with an agency, and that I'd like to explore the adoption option.

"I think we should try medical treatment first," he said.

"Well, my fuzzy lambchop, I'm not saying no to that. But the problem is, as I understand it, we can't begin the adoption process if we are undergoing treatment. "

"I want us to have children of our own," he grumbled.

"But sweetie, an adopted baby WOULD be a baby of our own. Ours. We'd be a family."

"OK, well, then maybe we should sign up for adoption while we're doing the treatment,"

"Ah," I replied, "no can do, buckaroo. You can't get on the adoption preparation class (which has a one year waiting list at present) if you are undergoing treatment."

"How will they find out? They'll never know!" he said.

Ahem. I then pointed out to him that LYING on the application form is probably not a good way to begin. And I said I thought that it was more than likely that as part of the application process we would be required to show medical certificates, which would indicate that we had been diagnosed as infertile.

Ok. This is the part where I realised E. has been kidnapped by alien brainsuckers. Are you ready?

"We're not infertile!" he said.

"Excuse me?" I squawked, slopping my Tension Tamer tea all down my front. "The doctor diagnosed us as having unexplained infertility at our last appointment!"

" I never heard him say that, " E. snapped.

"Well, he DID. I don't know where you were at the time, but he told us..."

E. interrrupted me. "I don't want to have this conversation right now. This conversation has ended."

"Oh, I cannot fucking believe this," I raged. "You are honestly telling me that on Planet E., we're not infertile. That the diagnosis of unexplained infertility passed you by? Let me repeat that, IDIOPATHIC infertility. Are you in deep denial about all this, or just stupid?""

I carried on in that vein for about five full minutes. Before I realised I was talking to the air, and that he had hung up on me.

Oh. Oh. Oh. I cannot tell you how much I hate it when people hang up on me. So I phoned him back and spat tacks down the line at him for another two minutes, before he hung up on me again. Fucker. We did that two or three more times in quick succession until I gave up and stormed off to bed in a puff of smoke and thunderclap.

Hopefully, I will calm down by the time I see him, and will be able to negotiate a treaty with the aliens for E.'s swift restoration to me.