Yesterday some people in our neighborhood had two double strollers and two carseats out by their trash can. We took the strollers. They are pretty nice--one's a side-by-side jogger and one's a front-and-back regular one--and we figure we can sell them to someone we know or on Craig's List and make some holiday $$.
TH was getting a big kick out of them. He thought they were very cool, especially because the front wheel of the regular one operated (turned) independently of the others, making it surprisingly maneuverable for something so long. What is it with guys and things with wheels?
They are temporarily in our garage, and I keep forgetting about them, which makes for a funny surprise every time I walk into our garage and see baby strollers. It's an odd feeling--not bad, not good...just...odd. I asked TH if seeing them in there made him feel funny, and he (of course) blithely responded, "No. I know they aren't for us!"
It never ceases to amaze me how he can separate his feelings of hope and yearning and desire for our own situation from the rest of the "real world." He of course has his moments of weakness, when he can't keep his own feelings out of it, like this weekend, when our cousin (the cousin) and her husband came over to visit for a little bit and they once again started yammering on about how surprisingly easy it was to get pregnant...in moments like those, TH and I retreat into snarky comments to each other ("Her stomach is pregnant...what's her ass's excuse?"), which may not be the classiest or most mature way of dealing with our disappointment, but hell if it isn't effective.
But most of the time, he's calm and confident and patient and strong. The first thing he asked when he got back from his business trip was how my temps were. I showed him my chart, which looks markedly different from last month's, and told him I wasn't sure what was going on, if my thermometer needed a new battery, or what. He said, "That's not why. I know why it's doing that." We are about 5 days shy of having been at this for six months, and he still has that calm assuredness, that confidence that he's had every month, that I am, in fact, pregnant. He still is able, month after month, to just know that it worked. For his calmness and his confidence and his resilience and his strength, he is amazing.
As for our update, I'm at 10 DPO today and I didn't test. TH would like me to try to wait until Friday. I know I said I didn't hold a lot of hope for this cycle, but I actually O'd a day early and we ended up with pretty good timing before TH left on his business trip. So, of course, there's the hope that has gradually built and built with each morning's high temp. There's no need to say that the phantom symptoms are driving me crazy. Strange little twinges in my ute, sore boobs, tiredness.
Heck, we even have the strollers, now. The only thing that's missing is the BFP.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Fourth Buoy
In May, I finished a half-ironman triathlon. Here's part of what I wrote about my experience:
As we went out, around the first buoy, and down the straight away, I was relishing the feel of the water as it flowed over my face and arms. We approached a tall marker, and I thought, "Man! I am doing so good! That's already the turn to go back in!" Unfortunately, I then saw that people were continuing on straight. Laughing at my not-so-modest mindset, I settled in and got into a comfortable rhythm. I noticed some swim caps of the wave after mine starting to pass me, but I knew I wasn't the fastest swimmer, so this didn't really bother me. I expected to be passed. We approached the next tall marker and I thought, "Sweet! Here we are at the turn. That didn't really seem too long, and I still feel fresh and energized! I'm doing great!" And then I saw that people were continuing on straight. Crap. So this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. Well, I guess it is a half-ironman, after all, so it shouldn't really be a breeze. I stopped thinking about how fast I was or wasn't going and started concentrating on staying in a straight line, breathing, and swimming with my hips (thanks, Coach Annika!). I thought about all the people and moments who had helped me get to this point, from our swim coach and our 5:30 a.m. winter practices in the outdoor, heated pool at the JCC to my friends, family, and husband who had supported me and encouraged me and who all believed in me. I was overcome with elation. I remember thinking to myself, "I'm doing it. I'm in the middle of doing it--the thing that I've (we've all) been working toward and looking to for the last six months." How freaking awesome.
I've noticed a change in my mindset regarding TTC recently. I'm no longer over eager, like a puppy bouncing with exuberance at the sight of a leash. I'm no longer painfully mourning my lack of success each month. My heart isn't keenly aching at the sight of others with their cute baby bumps, with their designer baby carriers, with their children. The more I thought about it, about this change in mindset, this change in approach, the more I realized I had experienced this before.
In the race, I went out confident, eager, probably a little overzealous, and with unrealistic expectations. And as the race progressed, as I passed each buoy, expecting it to be the one, the buoy that marks the end of my outbound progress, the buoy where I can turn back and head home, as I passed each one and realized it wasn't the one, that I still had farther to go, I settled in a little more. I lost my overzealousness, my unrealistic expectations. I calmed down, turned my focus inward, and kept going.
That's where I am now. I am heading for the fourth buoy. I'm no longer overzealous. I don't look at baby stuff online. I don't plan the nursery. I don't look up estimated due dates. We don't even talk about baby names much anymore. I have realized that this is not a sprint race. For me, at least, it's a distance race. I can't waste time and energy thinking about why or how others got to have a shorter distance. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that this is my course, and I have to find a way to get through it. I don't know how far away the fourth buoy is. I don't know when I'll be able to finally make that last turn and head for home. All I can do is keep breathing, keep stroking, keep calm. Getting worked up only makes you slower, only saps the energy that you'll need later on.
It's time to settle in.
And luckily, I've done that before.
As we went out, around the first buoy, and down the straight away, I was relishing the feel of the water as it flowed over my face and arms. We approached a tall marker, and I thought, "Man! I am doing so good! That's already the turn to go back in!" Unfortunately, I then saw that people were continuing on straight. Laughing at my not-so-modest mindset, I settled in and got into a comfortable rhythm. I noticed some swim caps of the wave after mine starting to pass me, but I knew I wasn't the fastest swimmer, so this didn't really bother me. I expected to be passed. We approached the next tall marker and I thought, "Sweet! Here we are at the turn. That didn't really seem too long, and I still feel fresh and energized! I'm doing great!" And then I saw that people were continuing on straight. Crap. So this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. Well, I guess it is a half-ironman, after all, so it shouldn't really be a breeze. I stopped thinking about how fast I was or wasn't going and started concentrating on staying in a straight line, breathing, and swimming with my hips (thanks, Coach Annika!). I thought about all the people and moments who had helped me get to this point, from our swim coach and our 5:30 a.m. winter practices in the outdoor, heated pool at the JCC to my friends, family, and husband who had supported me and encouraged me and who all believed in me. I was overcome with elation. I remember thinking to myself, "I'm doing it. I'm in the middle of doing it--the thing that I've (we've all) been working toward and looking to for the last six months." How freaking awesome.
I've noticed a change in my mindset regarding TTC recently. I'm no longer over eager, like a puppy bouncing with exuberance at the sight of a leash. I'm no longer painfully mourning my lack of success each month. My heart isn't keenly aching at the sight of others with their cute baby bumps, with their designer baby carriers, with their children. The more I thought about it, about this change in mindset, this change in approach, the more I realized I had experienced this before.
In the race, I went out confident, eager, probably a little overzealous, and with unrealistic expectations. And as the race progressed, as I passed each buoy, expecting it to be the one, the buoy that marks the end of my outbound progress, the buoy where I can turn back and head home, as I passed each one and realized it wasn't the one, that I still had farther to go, I settled in a little more. I lost my overzealousness, my unrealistic expectations. I calmed down, turned my focus inward, and kept going.
That's where I am now. I am heading for the fourth buoy. I'm no longer overzealous. I don't look at baby stuff online. I don't plan the nursery. I don't look up estimated due dates. We don't even talk about baby names much anymore. I have realized that this is not a sprint race. For me, at least, it's a distance race. I can't waste time and energy thinking about why or how others got to have a shorter distance. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that this is my course, and I have to find a way to get through it. I don't know how far away the fourth buoy is. I don't know when I'll be able to finally make that last turn and head for home. All I can do is keep breathing, keep stroking, keep calm. Getting worked up only makes you slower, only saps the energy that you'll need later on.
It's time to settle in.
And luckily, I've done that before.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Pity Party
You know in movies, when there's a character who's friends with the protagonist, and the protagonist does something awesome, like make the winning shot in a basketball game at the buzzer against a team of Nazis or something, and the crowd goes crazy, and everyone's jumping up and down and cheering, and the character is jumping up and down and cheering right along with everyone, and then the protagonist is carried off the court on the shoulders of the crowd, carried off somewhere the character can't follow, and the camera shot just shows the character left behind, in the empty gym, with the excitement and adrenaline seeping out of his or her system and the sadness setting in, the sadness that their friend is moving on and they are left still standing there in the gym?
Or the story where there's this group who are all waiting to hear their name called, for an election or acceptance into a program or getting picked for a team or whatever, and one by one their names are called, and everyone is crazy happy for the person whose name was called, but how it gets harder and harder for the ones who are left behind, the ones who aren't hearing their names, the ones who have to face everyone's else's name with excitement and joy and congratulations because they deserve it but it gets harder and harder to embrace everyone else's good fortune when it becomes more and more glaring with each name called that it's not your name, that you weren't chosen?
It's in the quietness after the joy that the sadness seeps in. The fall after the high.
And yes, there will always be another game where you have the shot at being the hero, the one carried off on everyone's shoulders, another election or acceptance or whatever where your name, eventually, will be called. And I, right now, at this moment, am a horrible person for not focusing just on the highs of my friends who did win the game, whose names did get called.
But that's what gives characters depth, right? Seeing that they're human.
Or the story where there's this group who are all waiting to hear their name called, for an election or acceptance into a program or getting picked for a team or whatever, and one by one their names are called, and everyone is crazy happy for the person whose name was called, but how it gets harder and harder for the ones who are left behind, the ones who aren't hearing their names, the ones who have to face everyone's else's name with excitement and joy and congratulations because they deserve it but it gets harder and harder to embrace everyone else's good fortune when it becomes more and more glaring with each name called that it's not your name, that you weren't chosen?
It's in the quietness after the joy that the sadness seeps in. The fall after the high.
And yes, there will always be another game where you have the shot at being the hero, the one carried off on everyone's shoulders, another election or acceptance or whatever where your name, eventually, will be called. And I, right now, at this moment, am a horrible person for not focusing just on the highs of my friends who did win the game, whose names did get called.
But that's what gives characters depth, right? Seeing that they're human.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Just Relax and Have Fun
The most loathed of all TTC advice.
Yes, the people who say it think that they are being sensitive and helpful and giving you good advice. Hear me now, people of the world: never, ever, ever tell someone who is TTC to "relax and have fun." Why? Well, you know on Scrubs, how he has the visions of doing things to people, violent aggressive things, while on the outside he's innocently having a conversation? If you tell someone who is TTC to "relax and have fun," chances are while they smile back at you they are envisioning kicking your shin. Or punching you in your well-meaning face.
The grain of truth behind the ill-advised advice is that stress can in fact delay ovulation. So on a certain level, it is important not to get too stressed. But the level of stress necessary to delay ovulation is like car-accident stress. Divorce stress. Sudden death of a family member stress. Not I-want-to-be-KU-so-bad stress. (It's true that there's something called hysterical pregnancy, where your periods stop and your belly actually starts to swell, but there's no baby there. But the problem for which this advice is being given is not that women who are TTC are imagining themselves into "being" pregnant. It's that they're not.)
Remember:
The spermies do not turn around and decide to go back home if you are stressed.
Your uterus will not say, "Girlfriend, you must be craaazyyy" and decide that it's just better for all involved if it does not let the egg implant.
The reason the advice is so infuriating, aside from the obvious lapse in logic behind it, is that it implies that the people on the receiving end are somehow preventing themselves from getting KU. This explains why, a few weeks ago, I burst into tears when my sister told me "if you would just relax, it would happen." You know what? I was relaxed. The first month. Relaxed and happy and excited. And the second month? Still relaxed. The third month? Not as relaxed, but still secure that surely it would happen soon. It was only the fourth and fifth months that got to me. So if relaxing had anything to do with it, I would be 20 weeks along and have found out the baby's gender last week.
Now, on the other hand, something that I've been thinking about lately:
It's still good advice.
Before all my other TTC girls close the screen in disgust, let me explain. It's not good advice to give, for all the aforementioned reasons. But it is still good advice.
If you and your husband are biologically in "good working condition" (i.e., you are ovulating, your LP is long enough to sustain implantation, your DH's soldiers are ready for battle, etc.), nothing you do is going to change whether or not it works. Stress can't make it not happen, but it can't make it happen, either. You can't stare at your chart 50 times a day and will your temperatures to stay high. Either it is going to work, or it isn't.
So instead of wasting so much of your life stressed out about the entire process, you might as well just relax. And have fun. Because baby-making is fun. Or, at least it is when you aren't worried about the million things that go along with TTC.
So there it is. My concession to the other side. Yes, you have valid advice. It is best to just relax and have fun.
But don't ever give that advice to anyone. You may get punched.
And yes, even though I can see the validity, it is, like so much in life, easier said than done. I'm not relaxed. Or having fun. But I'm working on it.
Yes, the people who say it think that they are being sensitive and helpful and giving you good advice. Hear me now, people of the world: never, ever, ever tell someone who is TTC to "relax and have fun." Why? Well, you know on Scrubs, how he has the visions of doing things to people, violent aggressive things, while on the outside he's innocently having a conversation? If you tell someone who is TTC to "relax and have fun," chances are while they smile back at you they are envisioning kicking your shin. Or punching you in your well-meaning face.
The grain of truth behind the ill-advised advice is that stress can in fact delay ovulation. So on a certain level, it is important not to get too stressed. But the level of stress necessary to delay ovulation is like car-accident stress. Divorce stress. Sudden death of a family member stress. Not I-want-to-be-KU-so-bad stress. (It's true that there's something called hysterical pregnancy, where your periods stop and your belly actually starts to swell, but there's no baby there. But the problem for which this advice is being given is not that women who are TTC are imagining themselves into "being" pregnant. It's that they're not.)
Remember:
The spermies do not turn around and decide to go back home if you are stressed.
Your uterus will not say, "Girlfriend, you must be craaazyyy" and decide that it's just better for all involved if it does not let the egg implant.
The reason the advice is so infuriating, aside from the obvious lapse in logic behind it, is that it implies that the people on the receiving end are somehow preventing themselves from getting KU. This explains why, a few weeks ago, I burst into tears when my sister told me "if you would just relax, it would happen." You know what? I was relaxed. The first month. Relaxed and happy and excited. And the second month? Still relaxed. The third month? Not as relaxed, but still secure that surely it would happen soon. It was only the fourth and fifth months that got to me. So if relaxing had anything to do with it, I would be 20 weeks along and have found out the baby's gender last week.
Now, on the other hand, something that I've been thinking about lately:
It's still good advice.
Before all my other TTC girls close the screen in disgust, let me explain. It's not good advice to give, for all the aforementioned reasons. But it is still good advice.
If you and your husband are biologically in "good working condition" (i.e., you are ovulating, your LP is long enough to sustain implantation, your DH's soldiers are ready for battle, etc.), nothing you do is going to change whether or not it works. Stress can't make it not happen, but it can't make it happen, either. You can't stare at your chart 50 times a day and will your temperatures to stay high. Either it is going to work, or it isn't.
So instead of wasting so much of your life stressed out about the entire process, you might as well just relax. And have fun. Because baby-making is fun. Or, at least it is when you aren't worried about the million things that go along with TTC.
So there it is. My concession to the other side. Yes, you have valid advice. It is best to just relax and have fun.
But don't ever give that advice to anyone. You may get punched.
And yes, even though I can see the validity, it is, like so much in life, easier said than done. I'm not relaxed. Or having fun. But I'm working on it.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Emily Dickinson was Wrong
Hope is not a thing with feathers.
It is a thing with hooks,
millions and microscopic
so that it clings to you
sticks as you walk through the world in a daze of hurt
a burr, a sticker, it buries itself in your heart
it wraps itself under your skin
you cannot be rid of it even if you weren't seeking it
and it clings to you, even in the gales of doubt
of dropping temps, of spotting,
it clings
and when it is finally ripped away
it rips away a million microscopic pieces of you
of your innocence
and you are left bleeding.
and later, when the bleeding stops, and you heal,
you are left with a million microscopic scars
you are left a little tougher
a little harder
a little less naive.
Hope is not a thing with feathers.
It is a ghost
a silent presence that is suddenly there
behind you, beside you
when yesterday it was not
a hand on your shoulder when you are downtrodden
it stands with you as you rise to face another day
and comforts you
and slowly lifts your heart though you are begging it not to
though you are telling it why it shouldn't,
why it can't,
why it's dangerous to get so high
it lifts you silently, faithfully, strong.
Hope is not a thing with feathers.
It is a thing with armor.
It does not perch on your soul.
It burrows into it.
It does not sing.
It whispers
maybe and what if.
It is a thing with hooks,
millions and microscopic
so that it clings to you
sticks as you walk through the world in a daze of hurt
a burr, a sticker, it buries itself in your heart
it wraps itself under your skin
you cannot be rid of it even if you weren't seeking it
and it clings to you, even in the gales of doubt
of dropping temps, of spotting,
it clings
and when it is finally ripped away
it rips away a million microscopic pieces of you
of your innocence
and you are left bleeding.
and later, when the bleeding stops, and you heal,
you are left with a million microscopic scars
you are left a little tougher
a little harder
a little less naive.
Hope is not a thing with feathers.
It is a ghost
a silent presence that is suddenly there
behind you, beside you
when yesterday it was not
a hand on your shoulder when you are downtrodden
it stands with you as you rise to face another day
and comforts you
and slowly lifts your heart though you are begging it not to
though you are telling it why it shouldn't,
why it can't,
why it's dangerous to get so high
it lifts you silently, faithfully, strong.
Hope is not a thing with feathers.
It is a thing with armor.
It does not perch on your soul.
It burrows into it.
It does not sing.
It whispers
maybe and what if.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Funny Point Reached
I found it! The point at which it gets funny. And I'm not even saying that sarcastically. I mean it. This cracks my shit up.
The "pregnant man" is pregnant again with his second child (story). His children will be 15 months apart.
So this MAN got pregnant again with his second child in less time than I've been able to get pregnant at all. (EDIT: I have now been educated about the difference between transgender and hermaphrodite and understand that this actually isn't a MAN, but someone who was born female and didn't identify with that sex, started taking male hormones, and had surgery to remove his/her breasts. However, the original irony remains that someone who took TESTOSTERONE for 9 years was able to get pregnant four months later using internet-bought sperm and a syringe, and here all this time I've been trying to do things the "old-fashioned way." Maybe THAT'S the problem! Maybe I need to use the advances in technology!)
I mean, if you can't laugh at that, you won't laugh at much anymore.
Thank God I'm laughing. :-)
The "pregnant man" is pregnant again with his second child (story). His children will be 15 months apart.
So this MAN got pregnant again with his second child in less time than I've been able to get pregnant at all. (EDIT: I have now been educated about the difference between transgender and hermaphrodite and understand that this actually isn't a MAN, but someone who was born female and didn't identify with that sex, started taking male hormones, and had surgery to remove his/her breasts. However, the original irony remains that someone who took TESTOSTERONE for 9 years was able to get pregnant four months later using internet-bought sperm and a syringe, and here all this time I've been trying to do things the "old-fashioned way." Maybe THAT'S the problem! Maybe I need to use the advances in technology!)
I mean, if you can't laugh at that, you won't laugh at much anymore.
Thank God I'm laughing. :-)
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Post #2: music therapy
It is amazing what a dark office, a single lamp, rain on the window, and 27 rounds of listening to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo Ole will do for a person's soul.
Suddenly it all seems manageable. I can do this.
Suddenly it all seems manageable. I can do this.
Staggering
I once heard that you will never be asked to bear more than you can handle. Now, I know I'm a strong woman. I'm stubborn and strong-willed and optimistic and determined and driven. And TH is a strong man. He helped guide his family through their refugee experience. He lied about his age and worked multiple jobs when he was 14 to help pay their bills. He's faced more adversity and discriminatory hate than many will ever know. He's a fighter. A dogged fighter. Together, we make an incredible team. We have faced challenges, scary, daunting, life-altering challenges, together with humor and faith.
And right now, we're staggering.
On the baby front, it gets hard to hear every new BFP from our friends and family. We never begrudge the person their fortune. Many have worked long and hard and been patient beyond imagination for their blessing, and they deserve their BFP without a doubt or hard feeling in mind. But we are running out of friend who AREN'T pregnant. And it gets hard, wanting something for yourself, working for it, believing that you are doing everything right, believing that you deserve it, only to have everyone around you get it, those who worked for it, those who didn't, and those who didn't even want it. It both consumes our thoughts and poisons them. Even when you try not to think about something, when you try to distract yourself, it's there, floating at the edge of your mind, the thing you are running from, the thing you are ignoring. It's there, and we can't escape it. And it's getting heavier every day.
But there's life outside of baby-making. There's our jobs. I've worked overtime and weekends the past two weeks, and there is no end in sight for this crush of work. I only see it getting worse. There are a lot of reasons for this--being short staffed, the economic sl0w down impacting our staffing resources, etc., but that doesn't change the reality that I've been running at sprint pace for longer than sprint distance. TH's job is the same--one of the drawbacks of climbing the management ladder so quickly is that he's now managing others while still having to take care of his previous responsibilities as well. Until next May at least (official promotion time), he's stuck doing two jobs. So our jobs, too, are getting heavier every day.
And then there's our family. TH's mom has been sick for going on a year now. Mentally and physically sick. There was a point at which she was improving, but she has taken a drastic turn for the worse in the last two weeks. I won't get into the family dynamics of TH's family here--suffice it to say he is the man everyone in his family turns to for the answer to every problem. Today it came to a head--things got so bad that his dad took his mom to the hospital, the doctors all said she needed to be admitted immediately, she refused. His dad called TH to fix it. TH was on the phone with his mom for 45 minutes (while at work mind you), begging and pleading with her, crying, telling her to admit herself for him, for her husband, for her children's sake. She refused and the decision was made to get a court order allowing all future medical decisions to be made by TH' dad. TH left work, on his way up to Dallas to help take care of it all, when he got the call that she had finally agreed.
I know that things could always get worse. I know that people have faced far greater challenges than these. I know that we have the strength to weather these storms. But we're no longer defiantly standing up to the brunt of the storm, no longer shouting into the face of our challenges. We are turning our backs to the stinging rain, the lightening, the wind, and hunkering down against its anger, just surviving until the storm passes.
It's not that we can't bear the load that has been given to us. It's just that it's getting so very heavy, and we're getting so very tired.
And right now, we're staggering.
On the baby front, it gets hard to hear every new BFP from our friends and family. We never begrudge the person their fortune. Many have worked long and hard and been patient beyond imagination for their blessing, and they deserve their BFP without a doubt or hard feeling in mind. But we are running out of friend who AREN'T pregnant. And it gets hard, wanting something for yourself, working for it, believing that you are doing everything right, believing that you deserve it, only to have everyone around you get it, those who worked for it, those who didn't, and those who didn't even want it. It both consumes our thoughts and poisons them. Even when you try not to think about something, when you try to distract yourself, it's there, floating at the edge of your mind, the thing you are running from, the thing you are ignoring. It's there, and we can't escape it. And it's getting heavier every day.
But there's life outside of baby-making. There's our jobs. I've worked overtime and weekends the past two weeks, and there is no end in sight for this crush of work. I only see it getting worse. There are a lot of reasons for this--being short staffed, the economic sl0w down impacting our staffing resources, etc., but that doesn't change the reality that I've been running at sprint pace for longer than sprint distance. TH's job is the same--one of the drawbacks of climbing the management ladder so quickly is that he's now managing others while still having to take care of his previous responsibilities as well. Until next May at least (official promotion time), he's stuck doing two jobs. So our jobs, too, are getting heavier every day.
And then there's our family. TH's mom has been sick for going on a year now. Mentally and physically sick. There was a point at which she was improving, but she has taken a drastic turn for the worse in the last two weeks. I won't get into the family dynamics of TH's family here--suffice it to say he is the man everyone in his family turns to for the answer to every problem. Today it came to a head--things got so bad that his dad took his mom to the hospital, the doctors all said she needed to be admitted immediately, she refused. His dad called TH to fix it. TH was on the phone with his mom for 45 minutes (while at work mind you), begging and pleading with her, crying, telling her to admit herself for him, for her husband, for her children's sake. She refused and the decision was made to get a court order allowing all future medical decisions to be made by TH' dad. TH left work, on his way up to Dallas to help take care of it all, when he got the call that she had finally agreed.
I know that things could always get worse. I know that people have faced far greater challenges than these. I know that we have the strength to weather these storms. But we're no longer defiantly standing up to the brunt of the storm, no longer shouting into the face of our challenges. We are turning our backs to the stinging rain, the lightening, the wind, and hunkering down against its anger, just surviving until the storm passes.
It's not that we can't bear the load that has been given to us. It's just that it's getting so very heavy, and we're getting so very tired.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Adding Insult to Injury
And we found out last night that one of DH's best friends is going to be a dad...with his girlfriend...whom he was thinking about breaking up with.
At some point this gets funny, right?
At some point this gets funny, right?
Saturday, November 8, 2008
And I Was Doing So Well, Too
*Disclaimer--I've been drinking. That's one beer, one house margarita, and one top-shelf margarita 'cause the house margarita sucked (got it comped, though woohoo!). And we're going to a house party later tonight, so chances are I'm gonna keep going. So my filter's not exactly in tact right now.
My cousin and her husband were in town visiting us tonight--we had dinner at the Iguana Grill overlooking Lake Travis at sunset--awesome view, great food (it's where we had our rehearsal dinner), good times. Especially 'cause she told us she's pregnant. Woohoo!
Yep, that's right folks. She informed us that she went off birth control in May (hmmm...I went off birth control in May, too). She started taking prenatal vitamins ahead of time so that the folic acid could accumulate in her system, 'cause if you start when you find out you're pregnant, that's not enough time (no shit, sherlock. Good thing I just had my NINTH'S month prescription filled). She then went off caffeine and for the most part alcohol all summer and started charting her cycles so that she would know when she ovulates. And they they tried in August and HOT DAMN, WHAM BAM THANK YOU MAM, she is KTFU on shot number ONE. Which, she told me like an old school marm talking to a 10-year-old fresh off the fucking farm, is because she knew so much about her cycles. Because she was so prepared.
Well fucking shit. You mean all I have to do is KNOW about my cycles?? What the hell have we been wasting time on then?? Oh, and I'm SURE all the 16-year-olds who get knocked up in the back of their boyfriend's trucks know ALL ABOUT their cycles.
To her credit, she doesn't know we've been trying for five months. She doesn't know I do know all about my fucking cycles. I know the exact day I ovulate. I know about not having sex every day. I know how long my luteal phase is. I know WHAT a luteal phase is. I know about prenatal vitamins, and mucinex, and baby carrots, and alcohol, and caffeine, and cervical fluid, and cervix position, and OPKs, and charting your cycles, and god freaking dammit if all it took was being PREPARED and KNOWLEDGEABLE I would have five babies by now.
So you can take your condescending, haughty, I-got-pregnant- immediately-because-I-knew-exactly-what-to-do-and-when-to- do-it bullshit and shove it, right up there with your land you bought for $100k and are going to have paid off in 5 years and your promotion and your huge house that you don't even clean yourself.
What's the bright side of all this? I could pound margaritas and enjoy my fajitas while she sipped on water and picked at her beans and rice. Nice of me? No. But the universe has to fucking even-out somehow.
And I really was doing so well.
My cousin and her husband were in town visiting us tonight--we had dinner at the Iguana Grill overlooking Lake Travis at sunset--awesome view, great food (it's where we had our rehearsal dinner), good times. Especially 'cause she told us she's pregnant. Woohoo!
Yep, that's right folks. She informed us that she went off birth control in May (hmmm...I went off birth control in May, too). She started taking prenatal vitamins ahead of time so that the folic acid could accumulate in her system, 'cause if you start when you find out you're pregnant, that's not enough time (no shit, sherlock. Good thing I just had my NINTH'S month prescription filled). She then went off caffeine and for the most part alcohol all summer and started charting her cycles so that she would know when she ovulates. And they they tried in August and HOT DAMN, WHAM BAM THANK YOU MAM, she is KTFU on shot number ONE. Which, she told me like an old school marm talking to a 10-year-old fresh off the fucking farm, is because she knew so much about her cycles. Because she was so prepared.
Well fucking shit. You mean all I have to do is KNOW about my cycles?? What the hell have we been wasting time on then?? Oh, and I'm SURE all the 16-year-olds who get knocked up in the back of their boyfriend's trucks know ALL ABOUT their cycles.
To her credit, she doesn't know we've been trying for five months. She doesn't know I do know all about my fucking cycles. I know the exact day I ovulate. I know about not having sex every day. I know how long my luteal phase is. I know WHAT a luteal phase is. I know about prenatal vitamins, and mucinex, and baby carrots, and alcohol, and caffeine, and cervical fluid, and cervix position, and OPKs, and charting your cycles, and god freaking dammit if all it took was being PREPARED and KNOWLEDGEABLE I would have five babies by now.
So you can take your condescending, haughty, I-got-pregnant- immediately-because-I-knew-exactly-what-to-do-and-when-to- do-it bullshit and shove it, right up there with your land you bought for $100k and are going to have paid off in 5 years and your promotion and your huge house that you don't even clean yourself.
What's the bright side of all this? I could pound margaritas and enjoy my fajitas while she sipped on water and picked at her beans and rice. Nice of me? No. But the universe has to fucking even-out somehow.
And I really was doing so well.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Lucky Me
So, there it is. AF. And all that it means. I'm not going to elaborate on all that it means. There's a point at which this all becomes repetitive.
Here's what I do have to say. TH took me out to dinner last night. We went to a dive catfish parlor that has been locally famous for longer than I've been alive. We've been wanting to try it ever since we bought our house out here more than a year ago and just never found the right time.
As I walked into the glow of the neon signs reflecting off red-checkered table cloths, as I listened to him say one of his million funny things, I was suddenly wholly overcome with peace and happiness. I love my life.
One year ago I was recovering from cancer, from a surgery that left us tens of thousands of dollars in debt. Cancer. At 28. That we were lucky--LUCKY--to catch when we did. And I am here today, was there last night, with my best friend, in a dive restaurant, surrounded by his love and his friendship and his dedication to me that is more powerful and overwhelming and total than I ever imagined I would experience.
If there's one thing I learned last year, between the time I heard I had to go back to "discuss my results" and the time I was home recovering from surgery, and even to this moment and every appointment I have where I am declared still clear, it's this: life is a beautiful experience. Be thankful every moment you have it.
I am lucky to live the life I do with the person I do. Even if we never have kids, if nothing ever changes for us, I will have had the most incredible time here. Because even in the face of sorrow, he somehow makes me happy.
Here's what I do have to say. TH took me out to dinner last night. We went to a dive catfish parlor that has been locally famous for longer than I've been alive. We've been wanting to try it ever since we bought our house out here more than a year ago and just never found the right time.
As I walked into the glow of the neon signs reflecting off red-checkered table cloths, as I listened to him say one of his million funny things, I was suddenly wholly overcome with peace and happiness. I love my life.
One year ago I was recovering from cancer, from a surgery that left us tens of thousands of dollars in debt. Cancer. At 28. That we were lucky--LUCKY--to catch when we did. And I am here today, was there last night, with my best friend, in a dive restaurant, surrounded by his love and his friendship and his dedication to me that is more powerful and overwhelming and total than I ever imagined I would experience.
If there's one thing I learned last year, between the time I heard I had to go back to "discuss my results" and the time I was home recovering from surgery, and even to this moment and every appointment I have where I am declared still clear, it's this: life is a beautiful experience. Be thankful every moment you have it.
I am lucky to live the life I do with the person I do. Even if we never have kids, if nothing ever changes for us, I will have had the most incredible time here. Because even in the face of sorrow, he somehow makes me happy.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I Prefer Not to Think of it as Chicken Shit
I confess: I didn't test this morning.
I jumped up and peed before I could give myself the chance to cave to the temptation of the waiting tests under my sink. I know it seems illogical, given that this is my longest LP yet, and as of tomorrow I'll be officially "late," and isn't it just better to know??
You see, if I don't test, if I don't see a fourth single line staring back at me, mocking my hope, mocking the way I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I lay in bed waiting for the mandatory three minutes to pass, if I don't see that single line, I won't have to deal with all it entails, with the concreteness of the no. I can live one more day with the hope. And over the last four days, I've learned that the hope of the maybe is better than the reality of the no.
So maybe that's chicken shit of me. Maybe I need to put on my big-girl panties and just take the frickin' test and woman up to the results, one way or another. I prefer to think of it as choosing the path of zen.
TH is going out of town tomorrow, leaving the house at 4:30 a.m. So I have to decide if I'm going to test tonight before he leaves, or if I'm going to test while he's gone, or if I'm going to wait until Friday when he's back. And amazingly, it's actually a hard decision.
CD 32, 14 DPO
I jumped up and peed before I could give myself the chance to cave to the temptation of the waiting tests under my sink. I know it seems illogical, given that this is my longest LP yet, and as of tomorrow I'll be officially "late," and isn't it just better to know??
You see, if I don't test, if I don't see a fourth single line staring back at me, mocking my hope, mocking the way I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I lay in bed waiting for the mandatory three minutes to pass, if I don't see that single line, I won't have to deal with all it entails, with the concreteness of the no. I can live one more day with the hope. And over the last four days, I've learned that the hope of the maybe is better than the reality of the no.
So maybe that's chicken shit of me. Maybe I need to put on my big-girl panties and just take the frickin' test and woman up to the results, one way or another. I prefer to think of it as choosing the path of zen.
TH is going out of town tomorrow, leaving the house at 4:30 a.m. So I have to decide if I'm going to test tonight before he leaves, or if I'm going to test while he's gone, or if I'm going to wait until Friday when he's back. And amazingly, it's actually a hard decision.
CD 32, 14 DPO
Sunday, November 2, 2008
No, No, No
No AF and 2 negative tests = 3 no's = not a happy camper.
If I'm not, let's freakin' get this show on the road already. IF I start AF tomorrow, TH will be away on business CD18-25. That means we'll have ONE shot next month the morning he leaves, and that's only if I O on CD18 like I did this month, which I know is such a long shot.
If I am, well body, it's not a nice trick to play on me, especially on a weekend we're having to deal with TH's parents and my sister all having an "off" weekend. I don't know if the tears on the way home were just pent-up stress from the visits or heartbreak over having to try again.
Somewhere, from one side or the other, I need a yes.
If I'm not, let's freakin' get this show on the road already. IF I start AF tomorrow, TH will be away on business CD18-25. That means we'll have ONE shot next month the morning he leaves, and that's only if I O on CD18 like I did this month, which I know is such a long shot.
If I am, well body, it's not a nice trick to play on me, especially on a weekend we're having to deal with TH's parents and my sister all having an "off" weekend. I don't know if the tears on the way home were just pent-up stress from the visits or heartbreak over having to try again.
Somewhere, from one side or the other, I need a yes.
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