Finally starting IVF

After all that waiting I didn’t get the acting gig. Shock, horror. This means two things. 1) I am free to get my hair cut short. (Once you do an audition you are obliged to maintain your appearance until you are “released”) and 2) I am starting Lucrin injections tomorrow. Having made the always bad decision to read lots of forum entries about nasty experiences on this drug, I am now worried about the headaches, lethargy and anaphylactic rashes that await me. To be honest I haven’t been feeling particularly fabulous lately and I know it won’t take much to push me from slightly ordinary to truly pathetic. Especially on the lethargy front. I’d rather be asleep at the best of times – I don’t need further encouragement.

So having spent the last week or so feeling at a loss as to what to say about the whole IVF thing, it’s about to start for real. I expect there will be much to report soon because I’m really good at complaining. And I anticipate the first thing I will complain about will be the injection. I haven’t decided yet whether to go for  my bottom or my tummy. Stay tuned for these and other earth shattering developments.

What does my IVF ambivalence mean?

So I’m “on hold” for the acting job. Of course it’s for the role of “a young mother”. The box of Lucrin is sitting on the kitchen table. Waiting. I will know on Tuesday whether I’ve got the job. Maybe I’ll be starting the drugs on Wednesday, or maybe I’ll be waiting another month. Either way I now have more time to contemplate what it all means.

I don’t consider myself a superstitious person but I can’t help being struck by the way that after months of silence, the possibility of a professional acting gig – the thing I love to do most in the world – comes out of the blue on the day I have finally decided to go ahead with trying to have a baby. The nurse at the clinic and I tallied up the dates and realized that if I started the hormones the next day, as I was planning, and I actually got the acting job, I would be due for egg harvesting right in the middle of shooting. It was either say “yes” to the audition and put off the cycle or say “yes” to the cycle and reject a work opportunity I’ve worked long and hard for. It felt as if I was, in that moment, being asked to choose between my professional development and being a mother. What does it mean that the choice was not clear? If I’ve gone so far as to decide on IVF, shouldn’t I be more committed to the whole thing?

I had to take myself for a walk to gather my thoughts. It was almost dark and already raining slightly and a storm was brewing. The atmosphere lent itself to the full blown existential crisis that has become my decision to try to have children. I was having to choose between my kids and my career, and I’m not even pregnant yet.

Clearly, I opted for the audition. Big H was adamant that I should, because he knows how much it means to me. And, let’s face it, I probably won’t get the job anyway, so it’s only a week extra. I suppose one way to look at the situation is that maybe not feeling totally consumed by the IVF thing will make it easier to survive in the event that it doesn’t work…

Not a real mother

Did you know that all mothers have shoulder length blonde hair? That was what I learned in the waiting room of my audition yesterday. I’m quite sure I won’t be getting this job; being short and dark of hair, flat of chest, as well as compromised of ovary.

I didn’t get any questions about my reproductive acheivements which was a huge relief and a credit to the casting director – who was only interested in what I was doing in front of the camera. In the waiting room though a flustered dad approached me with his registration form in one hand and his tv starlet six year old in the other and said

“Excuse me, are you a real mother?”

He simply wanted to know where he should be waiting; with the actual parents of the children auditioning for kids roles, or with the actors waiting to pretend to be mothers. I told him I was a fake and sent him down the hall.

They paired me with a long blonde haired 9 year old girl and a swaggering, toothy 7 year old boy. Which means I started having kids when I was 26. Which, as we all know, I probably should have. We did our thing and got out of there.

All in all it wasn’t too traumatic actually. My defenses are pretty good so far in the professional context. I did however lose it last night as I finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Now there’s a child to trigger the parental instict I fear will never be fulfilled.

oh, the irony

I have an audition for a TV advertisement today. Guess what the role is? “Young mother”. I have had about 10 auditions in the last few months and every single one of them has been for the role of “the young mother”. I know that’s the age group I’m in now. In TV land once you’re over 30 it’s either mother or prostitute. Come to think of it, that pretty much sums up most of the roles I’ve ever played…

I haven’t thought much about it previously, but this morning it’s getting me down. I feel like a fraud and that I just won’t be able to smile sweetly at the camera when they ask me “So, do you have kids?”. “Not yet! Ha ha!” is the correct reply; heaven forbid you give a genuine response, this is the world of advertising after all.

I’ll give it a go. With a bit of luck they won’t ask the question. With a bit of luck they will have the sense to know that as a trained actor I’m actually able to inhabit roles that I have not necessarily experienced in my real life. That’s the whole idea.

Ill let you know how it goes and whether I had to punch anyone.