Educational Infertility: Realizing you’re not pregnant and getting observed all in the same moment. How fucking wonderful.

I felt the tickle of liquid slide down inside of me- and I knew; another attempt failed. The day was going well, actually. I woke up in a pleasant mood, I didn’t allow the traffic to deter my demeanor as it sometimes does. I didn’t panic when I couldn’t find parking right away. Someone would leave, some spot would be left for me to awkwardly parallel park into- the day would be just fine.

My first period, well, it’s my first period. Not like a class but like a homeroom, as my coteacher calls it. Students hardly ever trickle in to do work. Today, I didn’t mind. Nothing was going to ruin my mood.

Third period went smoothly. My students came, well some of them. I was showing them how to identify the central idea. We did an example together. They worked with each other. It went well. Still, no reason not to smile. And then it happened- and all women know the feeling; that moment where the warmth starts to trickle inside and you know it came. Every month, as it comes, it reminds me how my reproductive organs aren’t working right. Another month, another period, another lost chance at being a mom. It hurt this time, even though I knew I shouldn’t keep my hopes up. The doctor said this cycle probably won’t work but pray anyway. I did. My whole family did. We’ve been praying.

I went to the bathroom only to confirm what I already knew- another motherless month. My eyes welled up and I immediately looked up at the 100-year-old chipped ceiling to force my tears back into my eyes. Not today. I had a class to teach. Don’t forget you are the teacher. You can’t have a bad day or show that you are having a bad day or wishing you could dig yourself into a small hole and cry in the fetal position you wish was being created inside of you but it wasn’t.  It’s ok. You will be ok. It’s ok.

It really wasn’t ok.

I held back the tears and didn’t let anyone know that in that moment I wanted to hide and cry. Fourth period. Suck it up. Teach your lesson. Probably won’t be the best, but it will be ok. The hormones are raging. The emotions are high. The pain is starting. How uncomfortable.

It’s ok. It will be ok.

Observation.

Fuck.

Of course, it would be now.

Of course as I feel the lack of motherhood trickle down I would be judged on my performance; the performance that would never be good enough; the performance that beats people down, because no matter what you do, no matter how well it could go, no matter how many students are trying in that moment, there is always that one that doesn’t and that is the one that will always be focused on.

I was already beaten down by Mother Nature and Science today, what’s another licking?

I cried the whole way home. This isn’t very different from other days. I do this at least once a week. But this cry was different. It wasn’t a cry of frustration or exhaustion- it was a cry of desperate despair. In that moment, the hopelessness of motherhood, the hopelessness that my career would ever fulfill me, the hopelessness of the pure happiness I have not felt in years. My soul shed these tears. It knew I had to do it all over again tomorrow.

Tomorrow came. So did the leak; through my pants and onto the chair. I felt the bubble come through the overnights and supers. I looked straight at my coteacher and mouthed “I leaked through” I didn’t even need to check. I knew.

“Welcome to Woman’s History Month” she proclaimed.

Yes, yes, welcome to the suffering and pain we go through, the weight we carry, the load we are never allowed to display because God forbid we do- we are emotional, hormonal, dramatic.

Fuck. You.

The pain struck- as it always does. But this time, again, was different. It was too much. Too much to cover. Too much to pretend I was ok. Everything was too much. The blood, the pain, the dizziness. My partner could have brought me a change of clothes, but I knew I wasn’t going to make it through this day. I text the secretary to cover my classes. The way I described it, she thought I might have miscarried. I may have been, in that very moment, but it didn’t matter. What’s happened has happened. And I knew I couldn’t make it through today.

I looked my principal dead in the face and said:

“It’s embarrassing to say- I bled through, I have a big stain, I am in too much pain. I have to go home.” He just nodded. What do you even say to that?

So I left.

And cried.

Again.

I stayed in bed the rest of the day.

I wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the week.

Not possible. I have to go to work.

And put on a show like everything is ok, not only for my students, but for my colleagues and my administration. We all have to put on a show and ignore the fact we are human beings with problems and emotions and cramps that could kill. We have to focus on what the state says is wrong with our school. I could tell you. We care too much when the state, the country, the whole world doesn’t give a shit. We put ourselves last. We are unhealthy, mentally, physically, emotionally. We are drained. We are tired. We are done.

Time to talk about the lesson. The lesson I didn’t want to teach because I had to hide how distraught I really was. The lesson I was going to be judged on after I realized, again, I am not going to be a mom. Yet.

The only thing I could think about was the pain in my empty uterus. But I listened, intently, on how I could improve my lesson: add a short video clip: good suggestion, but even if I do, I will probably have to switch it up again because the state doesn’t deem video clips high level enough- should be some long, boring, dry text. Blah.  Also, make sure the students finish the lesson in a class period. They won’t. For some real, in-depth work we need more time. Nothing is truly finished in one period. It’s an ongoing process. A developing one. Not a developing rating though.

But sure. No problem. I’ll do it. I have some pretty great bosses, but even they don’t realize how they have been trained to make, even a good teacher, feel like they suck. They don’t mean it. I know they don’t. At least not mine. Some administrators do but, definitely, not mine. I know I don’t suck. They know I don’t suck. But these observations, they make you feel like you suck. Like nothing will ever be good enough. This system- makes you feel like you always suck. We shouldn’t always feel like we suck. Especially with all the sucky things that happen in our lives. This was a sucky fucking day for me. For sure.

I’ll ignore every instinct in me that wants to quit this profession because I am afraid. Quit the bullshit even though I actually enjoy the time I have with students who actually need me. Quitting the bullshit would be a disservice to them, but staying might be a disservice to me. I am afraid of change. I am a creature of habit and although I adapt to everything, I am afraid.

I am afraid I won’t be able to provide for the child I will one day have.

The child that will come because of the insurance I get in this career. The insurance I need because this career keeps me unhealthy. It’s a double-edged sword and I bleed either way. 

So sure.

I’ll take suggestions.

I’ll do what is necessary to protect my position.

But my position doesn’t define me.

And neither does my uninhabited uterus.

To another hopeful cycle and

another lesson and another observation.

Hopefully, not an overlapping disappointment.