How many times in a single day can the Catholic Librarian cry?

Oh, I assure you, many, MANY times. And yesterday was one of those days.

It's already been a long couple of weeks. The illnesses from last week, which in my case have metamorphasized into an evil sounding cough that persists to this minute, my worries about Hank's asthma, the loss of Baby D. All of these things had me worried and/or upset last week. Then the doctor's appointment yesterday got me all riled up. I mean really, you shouldn't catch a pregnant woman off guard. You're not going to like the consequences.

I'm trying to calm myself down about the whole thing, but I'm still bothered by it. I'm trying to see the nuchal fold scan as a way to see my baby again, see their little heart beating, and enjoy reveling in their presence. And by all accounts, this perinatologist is very, very nice. But I hate the specter of "THERE MIGHT BE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR BABY!" that hangs over a pregnancy of a mother that happens to be 35 years old plus. I mean, here's the way I look at it: If our baby has Down's Syndrome or some other chromosomal abnormality... well, it's already happened. There is nothing that we can do about it. Consequently, why torture ourselves about it? What's done is done, one way or the other. I want to enjoy my pregnancy and the life that grows within me regardless. I'm not enjoying the "serious tone" that seems to be permeating how medical professionals see my pregnancy. But I'm going to try to let it go right now. Next week I have first trimester blood work (part of which is also unnecessary; don't get me started. If I didn't have HIV when I was pregnant with Hank, I certainly don't have it now. And my blood type; could that have really changed? I think not), and then two weeks from today is the nuchal fold scan. Two weeks after that I see my regular ob. again. Naturally, I'll keep you apprised as events transpire :)

But I digress. After I worked off my doctor's office related angst with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, I got back to my desk and read my email following a reference desk shift. I found a response from a journal that I submitted an article to two months ago, and the news wasn't what I hoped for. Not only did they not accept my article, they hurt my feelings :( I take pride in the quality of my writing and the content I focus on. Am I a perfect writer? No, of course not. But I am not a poor writer. And I deserve better than to be told that my article would be better suited to a "newsletter-like periodical."

That smarted. And it insulted me.

After looking at it with fresh eyes today, I can see that they were trying to say that my article just wasn't a good fit with their journal and what they usually publish. I wish they had just said that plainly, but I have to let that go.

Yesterday, however, I wasn't letting anything go. I went home a teary mess, and I'm sure that when I walked in the door Mike thought that something terrible had happened. Through hiccuping sobs, I told him about the rejected article, and he said all the right things to try and make me feel better. I know, I can submit it somewhere else, and most likely, it will get published. I've had other articles published, so I know that I can do it. But when you get a rejection, you can't help but feel like a failure, at least for a little while. We rely on my income, and my income depends upon me achieving tenure. Achieving tenure depends upon me publishing. So, I felt like I had let Mike and Hank down.

After I had settled down enough to actually talk clearly, I told him about the perinatologist, and started sobbing anew. I could see Mike's eyebrow arch, and we've been married long enough that I can read this thoughts:

"She's upset about this. Huh. I'm not sure why she's upset about this. But if I don't say the right thing, she'll be upset at ME. What to do, what to do..."

He told me very practically that this is just standard procedure, and I shouldn't take it personally. It just means I'll get some extra attention. I sniffled back that that wasn't really the POINT, but I wasn't angry at him. Even I'm not sure why I'm so upset about this perinatologist thing. I guess, deep down, I'm what you would call "crunchy" about certain things, and this just happens to be one of them. I don't want my prenatal care to be so invasive. But if that's the case, I'll have to seek out a totally different kind of care, and I don't know that I'm prepared to do that. I'll have to sort this out myself.

At any rate, I got through the evening only numbly, and by nightfall, I couldn't sleep worth anything. My coughing exacerbated everything as well, so I ended taking my pillow and stuffed puppy downstairs to the couch, where I put on the Hallmark Channel and watched reruns of Cheers at 3 am. I also saw a commercial about a Hallmark movie coming on in a few weeks about a family Thanksgiving. That sounds just cheesey enough to cheer me up. I'm excited.

So, what's to come of all this? I don't know. I'm trying to hang in there today, but it's not the best of days. I feel exhausted, puffy, and emotionally drained. I've been keeping busy to distract myself, and that's working pretty well. I'll get there. I've had a post planned about my weekend and my Children's Liturgy of the Word training, and I'll try to get to that this afternoon. Stay tuned.

*weak smile*