I have a little crush. Nothing too serious. Certainly nothing that should worry Bill.
This is not the first time it has happened to me since I started IVF, so my guess is that I am not alone.
The object of my affection is hard not to like. Sure he is skinny, older, a little shy and more than a bit of a nerd. But he is smart. Like genius smart. He is driven. He is wealthy. His existence is dedicated to giving me a baby. What’s not to love?
It happened slowly. At first I noticed I looked forward to hearing from him with increasing anticipation. Then I seemed to have a growing list of reasons to need to talk to him. It doesn’t help that he plays hard to get. He rarely calls. When I see him it is usually for 10 minutes or less and he has little to say. But however brief our meetings, they are always intimate.
Yes I have a crush on my Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE).
I can say with some level of confidence that this crush is unrequited. I am one of hundreds of women in his life. And I am okay with that, as long as he gives me my baby.
I felt the same way about my last RE. As a matter of fact, I still do and probably always will. He had a wonderful beside manner, a great sense of humor. And of course, he gave us Spork.
Lest you be concerned about me stalking or having an unhealthy fixation, I am exaggerating for effect. I don’t really have a romantic crush. Or at least one that I don’t completely understand is due to natural psychological tendencies that are completely out of my control.
It could be my feelings are a result of Knight in Shining Armor Syndrome. A damsel in distress is swept off her feet by a man in a white lab coat riding in on great SART results. The knight saves her from the deadly jaws of the evil beast Infertility.
Makes perfect sense right?
But I actually think of it more like Stockholm Syndrome, where hostages begin to develop empathy and sympathy for their captors even to the point of defending them. Make no mistake, this man never intended any ill will toward us, but captives we are. Destined to keep coming back for more and continuing to pay those big bills until we either run out of steam, or money, or both. He is our only hope.
Whatever the reason and appropriate or not, I still look forward to hearing his voice the next time he calls. And with any luck, in the not too distant future he will be calling to break it off with me completely.You see this guy is the kind of guy that is done with a girl as soon as she gets knocked up.
Party’s over. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Find yourself a plain old OB, you no longer do it for me.
And I am okay with that too.