I’m not going to change jobs. That may seem like it’s coming out of left field because you haven’t been living up in my head for the past 2 weeks (thank your lucky stars for that), but it isn’t. After The Husband quit working where we worked (and where I still work) I started wondering if I should make my way out of there as well. Various reasons, not to be discussed, for wondering if the grass is greener over there on the other side of that fence led to me dabbling on some job websites, seeing what’s out there. To my amazement I discovered that other people will actually pay me as much as I’m making. I’ve been laboring under a misapprehension that if I wanted to seek gainful employment elsewhere I’d be looking at a pay-cut. A particularly heinous day at work pushed me just far enough that I applied for a few jobs. And promptly forgot about it after the shitstorm passed and everything went back to normal. Monday afternoon a guy from one of the places called wondering if I’d come in for an interview. And I thought, “why not?” so I went. I dressed up, I chatted, I was charming. I think it went all right. And I felt pretty good. Next morning the worrying began. Is now a good time to change jobs? The Husband is temping so there’s enough money coming in to stave off that particular panic, but we’re both on my insurance now. If I change jobs, it would most likely mean a 90 day wait before benefits kick in. I don’t know about y’all, but being without insurance gives me nightmares and panic attacks. I think I’ve mentioned that for part of my adolescence I lived with my mom in a little placed called Poverty. One day Mom slipped in a puddle on the ground (it doesn’t rain much in Utah, so we’re not adept at handling puddles), reached out to break her fall and jammed her finger on the ground. For a while it seemed like just a minor injury, but then it became obvious that it was broken. She weighed her options and ultimately decided to just do nothing about it and hope for the best because THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE TO LIVE WITHOUT HEALTH INSURANCE (and before you ask/wonder/berate/criticize yes, yes, FIRMLY yes, I am pro socialized medicine because I believe that access to healthcare should be a right, not a privilege. I also believe that The Gays should be allowed to marry – ha HA!!! go ahead and leave some scathing comments, I dare you). Her finger healed and all, but it healed incorrectly. So, years later when she had insurance again and went to a doctor it was too late for him to do anything other than fuse the effing bones together in order to repair the damage and now my beautiful mother has a bendless finger, a finger without a bend. Let that be a lesson to you! Okay, anyway. I’m afraid to be without health insurance. Add it to the pile of leftover fears from childhood (along with the fear of not having enough food to eat, the fear of not having enough money to pay the bills and the fear of driving an embarrassing, ginormous, green car). So yeah. There’s that. Then there’s the actual reason that I don’t want to start a new job, the baby fever. My appointment for the yearly check of my lady bits is next week and if I’m lucky they’ll be yanking out my chastity plug IUD and Operation Let’s Get Pregnant will officially begin. I know it’s not much time, but 90 days right now seems like a whole lot of time. These eggs aren’t getting any younger and what if 90 days is the difference between getting pregnant easily and struggling with infertility? Sure, sure, if I’m anything like the rest of the Mormon pioneer ladies of my heritage, I’ll be pregnant by next month and having a baby just in time for New Year, but still, why wait 90 extra days if I don’t have to? And even if I did, then what? Would I be able to take maternity leave? Some places require you to have worked there a full year before they will allow you to take it. It will be much less stressful knowing that my job will be saved for me while I take 12 weeks to adjust to a screaming, poop factory. Plus, what if their insurance is such that I can’t go to the hospital that I want to for the calving because it’s not in their network? I’m pretty particular about how I want to give birth, and if I get stuck in some crummy hospital that doesn’t employee midwives and where a jerk doctor forces me to have an epidural and/or a cesarean section I’m not going to be happy. So I’m not doing it. I’m staying exactly where I am, and sticking with my original plan. And I feel very calm and at peace with that decision. Which is not a feeling I’m familiar with having experienced it so infrequently, so I’m taking that as a sign that it’s the right decision. Despite the fact that some friends and family members would possibly disagree.