Although this post might suggest otherwise, I wasn't more than vaguely conscious of any unhappiness regarding my marriage at this point in time. Instead, I was focusing a big chunk of my waking thoughts on getting pregnant. As I do with all new obsessions, I bought every book I could find on the subject and spent a large portion of my free time digesting all the information available to me as woman in her mid-thirties who’d been trying for over a year to conceive.

My husband and I had both been tested for possible infertility issues; he was found to have a slightly lower-than-average sperm count, and I was diagnosed with a pre-polycystic ovary. Nothing that would likely prevent us from conceiving were I to take a few cycles of Clomid (an ovulation-inducing hormone) and, possibly later, undergo intra-uterine insemination (IUI). Because we knew a couple who'd blown their life savings on multiple in-vitro procedures, we counted ourselves fairly lucky so far.

Looking back, however, I think our main "infertility issue" was a plain and simple lack of sex. Before we were actively trying to conceive, we'd gone as long as two and a half months straight without it; therefore, the 2-3 times per month we were having at this point seemed plenty frequent by comparison. But I truly doubt it was often enough to make a baby.

Add to that my usual stream of consciousness during each encounter: "There's really no point in trying to come; he'll be done soon anyway… Hum-de-dummm… I can't wait 'til this is over so I can get back to doing [insert current project/TV show/DVD/video game here.]" So yes: rote it was; exciting, fulfilling, titillating it was not.

Still, I loved him and was happy to be commuting with him at my new job.

A few years ago, my boss informed me that our team was going to be reorganized and that I – or my job, at least – would be made redundant. The company I worked for, SureSize Corporation*, called this status "redeployment," and it meant that I had approximately 4 months to find a new job, either inside or outside the company – or simply take the severance money and run.

During my year and a half there thus far, I'd had far more ups than downs – but had finally caught a break about a month before the redeployment by being assigned to a very exciting, high-profile project. The timing couldn't have been worse for me to leave SureSize; the project was interesting, a lot of fun, staffed with some of my favorite colleagues and would look great in my portfolio.

Considering the options, I decided to keep working as if my days weren't numbered, and I put in evening and weekend hours to finish the design and specification. My efforts were noticed and appreciated, and I felt vindicated by the praise I was finally receiving from a management team that had hitherto only been fairly dubious of my contribution to the organization. Meanwhile, I put out feelers for other positions within the company because I really liked its culture and benefits and hoped to remain there long term.

The only challenge was staying out of Hank's** way.

Now in charge of the team that had just swallowed up the one I was in, I'm fairly certain that Hank was the main force behind the decision to redeploy me. Unfortunately for my future there, Hank was swiftly climbing the corporate ranks in SureSize's Marin County headquarters – and he'd taken a dislike to me several months earlier, I guess for not submitting to his short-man-syndrome-induced authority on more than one occasion.

Thanks to my "great attitude" and hard work on the exciting project, however, I was recommended for an opportunity to fill in for a product designer in the San Francisco office who was going on maternity leave for six months. The hiring manager there was fairly confident that she would either not come back (since this was her second child) or that there would be an open headcount ready for me by the time the six months were up.

I accepted the new job without hesitation; the only negative (and hardly a major one) was that my current 10-minute commute would increase to about an hour, but the majority of that time would be spent on a scenic ferry crossing from Larkspur to downtown San Francisco. Moreover, SureSize’s offices were in the same exact building as my husband’s. We could commute together!

* Not the company's real name.
** Not Hank's real name.

Many of the revelations in my last post come from mixing a half-pound of hindsight, a soupcon of self-flagellation, and a dash of exaggeration.

Here are some of the positive reasons I fell in love with, and wanted to marry, my ex:

• He was more intelligent than anyone I’d ever dated before, without having that anti-social weirdness that so many super-smart people tend to have.
• We could talk for hours about all manner of subjects, profound and ridiculous.
• He was a rugged outdoorsman and loved skiing, camping, hiking and mountain climbing – all of which had a very positive effect on me and my fitness level.
• He loved food and wine, and learned so much about that latter that he began making it himself.
• He’d worked with developmentally disabled adults for half a dozen years before I met him, and had heartbreaking and honest stories to tell about the experience. I deeply respected his drive to better the lives of others.
• He was sensitive, romantic and gave the best gifts of anyone I’ve ever known. For the second-to-last birthday of mine we spent together, he surprised me with round trip tickets to Paris.
• He loved animals (almost) as much as I do, and we were quickly able to agree on the kind and number of dogs we wanted to have and when we wanted to get them.
• We had a ball raising and training our two pug puppies, and were equally shattered by the loss of Chloe the baby black pug when she died on the table during her spay operation.
• We both wanted children very much, and had similar values with regard to childrearing.
• He was unaccountably kind to my parents and had a fabulous extended family, who were lovely enough to take us all in under their wings.
• He loved me more than any man ever had, and probably ever will.