Was telling TH about aforementioned awesome website and mentioned with a sad face that my boobies aren't sore.
Being the man he is, always wanting to give me everything I want, he offered to smack them around a little bit.
I'm so lucky.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Best. Site. Ever.
Yes, yes, I know 9:30 is early for the second post of the day, but this is awesome.
It gives all the "symptoms" people reported feeling along with what DPO they reported feeling them on.
The top 10 pg symptoms:
It gives all the "symptoms" people reported feeling along with what DPO they reported feeling them on.
The top 10 pg symptoms:
- overall fatigue/exhaustion (hmmm...now that you mention it, I AM a little tired. It could be that TH and I stayed up late battling it out over the new awesome Scrabble board I got for Christmas...or...)
- tender breasts (nope, nada this time. Strike 1. Boo.)
- mild/dull cramps/pressure in abdomen (I WAS feeling crampy yesterday! And I was like, WTF, it's too early for AF cramps. Hmmm...)
- gassy (OMG, soooo gassy last night! I LOVE that I can blame my farting on being possibly pg. Too bad my sister doesn't have the same excuse...)
- nauseated (no, but if I had eaten that baked potato yesterday, I might have been, and then I could have blamed it on the baby.)
- bloated (Yes! It came with the gas last night! And maybe I like to think I'm just getting more and more permanently bloated all the time. Yes, that's why my clothes don't fit anymore. I'm just perma-bloated.)
- leg/backache (not lately, but there was that time last week after doing the weight class. Can I have symptoms before ovulation?)
- sensitive nipples (No. Strike 2. Booo!)
- headache (Ha! I actually mentioned the headaches in my last post, before I even looked at this list. Yes!)
- breasts feel heavy/full (My breasts are too small to ever feel heavy or full.
Strike 3? Stupid List. Who cares? I had more hits than strikes! For sure KTFU!)
Devil and Angel
So, here's pretty much the conversation in my head regarding any likelihood of being pg this month:
1: Don't get your hopes up! You didn't even feel any O pain this month, and you ALWAYS feel O pain.
2: But the doctor SAW that awesome egg just waiting to get out there. Surely I O'd right on time like all the other months. And I had that really strong + OPK.
1: You didn't have any EWCM this month. Not even one day's worth. Not a snowball's chance in hell.
2: But watery is good enough, right? Lots of women never get any EWCM, and they still get KU.
1: You're not having any phantom symptoms. No funny twinges, no weird tastes in your mouth, no sore boobs. You can't even trick yourself into thinking you're pg this month.
2: Maybe I just have learned to ignore them? Maybe my lack of symptoms is significant? Maybe I'm just not paying enough attention. There were those three days I had a headache. I don't ever get headaches.
1: Oh, you mean the headaches that started the day you went to your in-laws? Sure, there's no other POSSIBLE explanation for that!
2: But...
1: What? You're not. Start getting used to it now so that you're entire weekend isn't ruined.
So now the question is, which voice is the devil, and which is the angel?
1: Don't get your hopes up! You didn't even feel any O pain this month, and you ALWAYS feel O pain.
2: But the doctor SAW that awesome egg just waiting to get out there. Surely I O'd right on time like all the other months. And I had that really strong + OPK.
1: You didn't have any EWCM this month. Not even one day's worth. Not a snowball's chance in hell.
2: But watery is good enough, right? Lots of women never get any EWCM, and they still get KU.
1: You're not having any phantom symptoms. No funny twinges, no weird tastes in your mouth, no sore boobs. You can't even trick yourself into thinking you're pg this month.
2: Maybe I just have learned to ignore them? Maybe my lack of symptoms is significant? Maybe I'm just not paying enough attention. There were those three days I had a headache. I don't ever get headaches.
1: Oh, you mean the headaches that started the day you went to your in-laws? Sure, there's no other POSSIBLE explanation for that!
2: But...
1: What? You're not. Start getting used to it now so that you're entire weekend isn't ruined.
So now the question is, which voice is the devil, and which is the angel?
Sunday, December 28, 2008
A Better Way to Look at It
Oi, sorry for the super bummer post below. I had a cloud over me the last few days, and the best way I know of to get rid of it is to write about it. It's as if I take the filth from my mind and put it down "on paper" (on the interwebz) and it makes me feel so much better.
An email from a very good friend helped me think of things a different, better way. Yes, I'm the last one left in this stupid waiting room. Like it or not, once your name is called, you have no choice but to go through those doors and leave those of us behind who are still waiting. C'est la vie. But rather than thinking about the emptiness in the room with me, the emptiness where once thirteen other bodies filled the space, I found a much better way to approach this situation:
There are thirteen (at least!) women on the other side of that door who are waiting for me. Thirteen women who keep their eyes trained on the door, thirteen women who will all cheer and scream and clap and welcome me when it's my turn. Thirteen women who may have moved on but who are still thinking of me and looking forward to the day I get to join their ranks.
And that is a very comforting, wonderful feeling.
If you're one of those women, thank you for your friendship and your hope and your prayers and your patience. I hope I'm not too far behind!
An email from a very good friend helped me think of things a different, better way. Yes, I'm the last one left in this stupid waiting room. Like it or not, once your name is called, you have no choice but to go through those doors and leave those of us behind who are still waiting. C'est la vie. But rather than thinking about the emptiness in the room with me, the emptiness where once thirteen other bodies filled the space, I found a much better way to approach this situation:
There are thirteen (at least!) women on the other side of that door who are waiting for me. Thirteen women who keep their eyes trained on the door, thirteen women who will all cheer and scream and clap and welcome me when it's my turn. Thirteen women who may have moved on but who are still thinking of me and looking forward to the day I get to join their ranks.
And that is a very comforting, wonderful feeling.
If you're one of those women, thank you for your friendship and your hope and your prayers and your patience. I hope I'm not too far behind!
Keeping Distracted
There's a giant gender-neutral-colored elephant in the room. I'm at 6 DPO today. And I'm the last one left.
Of all the girls in my world, the ones who are just good friends of mine, the ones who started out their TTC journeys around the time I did, the ones who started later, the ones who didn't intend to start at all...the last two got their BFPs last week. I'm not saying there are no other girls who are still out there, still trying, girls who have been trying for much longer than me. I'm saying in my immediate universe, I'm the last one. And not the last one out of like three or four. TH and I counted last night (ok, I counted for him)--13. Thirteen girls who were in my immediate circle of friends, regardless of how we met or whether we're family. And that's not even the count of tangential acquaintances who have gotten their BFPs in the last six months. I stopped counting that number at 24.
What's weighing so heavily on me about that is not that I begrudge any of them their BFPs, their golden tickets to move forward out of this purgatory, this waiting room. It's just that I'm left. Our weekly check-ins (bless you, Monkey, I know you're still there with me) will now be empty. Or at least partially filled with girls I have no connection to, no emotional investment in. And who am I going to drink with at FJHHs? That's right: TH. He volunteered to come drink with me. I guess fertility juice would do us both some good. How sad is that? My husband is stepping so that I don't have to drink alone.
I went out shopping with my mom the day after Christmas. We had to return a shirt my dad got that was the wrong size. We tried to find the counter that had the shortest line, a counter in an out-of-the-way nook of the store. We ended up at the baby section. For the first time in six months, I wasn't drawn to looking at those tiny, adorable little clothes. For the first time, it hurt me to look at them. It felt like my heart was a similarly charged magnet and it was being repelled from them. It actually felt like my heart was being pushed back, away from them. Or maybe not pushed. Maybe it was backing away from them on its own. Maybe it just didn't want to be surrounded by the reminder, a thousand tiny, adorable reminders, that I am left.
So yeah, there's this elephant in the room that follows me around everywhere I go. When I'm not thinking about it, when I find a way to be blessedly distracted, I'll suddenly remember that there's something going on, there's something big that is floating at the corner of my consciousness, some shadow I can see out of the corner of my eye, and I wonder what it was that I have going on, and then I remember, and the elephant returns to sit on me, and I remember why I feel so heavy. This happens a thousand times a day.
I know I shouldn't be so gloomy. I know I should be optimistic and upbeat and hopeful. But I'm just finding it pointless this time. Why get excited and hopeful when I can just wait and see what happens? Why risk the fall, the feeling of foolishness, the insanity of doing the same things we've been doing for six months and expecting a different outcome? TH told me last night he didn't want me lifting something heavy because I'm pregnant. Again, again, he's confident. Sure. Certain. I asked him how he does it, and why he wants me to NOT get my hopes up. He laughed and said it's because he's so used to being wrong, it doesn't crush him the way it crushes me. Silly man. Always protecting me.
So I've thrown myself into projects. Our cats ruined the carpet in the third bedroom, so we had it stripped out. I had the brilliant idea of painting it before we put the new carpet in. So we are. We are painting our nursery. Our future nursery. Maybe not the best project to keep me distracted from babies, but strangely enough it has helped. Given me something concrete to focus on. And we're having to do it in stages--first the top half, wait for that to dry. Then the bottom half, wait for that to dry. Then the stars on top of the bottom half, wait for that to dry. Then the chair rail. Then the new carpet. This should take me a while. Which is good.
We also bought new bookshelves for our office. Finally. We had been using the Walmart bookshelves I had gotten for my first apartment in college ten years ago. So we are going to put those together today.
And we have a lot of laundry to do. A lot of putting away presents. Planning of New Year's Eve festivities. Packing up of Christmas decorations.
So that's how I'm keeping distracted. From my temps (funny temp story: I wake up early to temp and then go back to sleep. After temping this morning, after a drop, I kept dreaming, hoping, it was tomorrow morning already so that I could temp again and see if it came back up, see if the pattern looked better than it looked today). From what DPO it is. From my lack of hope. From my knowledge that everyone else has moved on. From all these things that dance at the edge of my thoughts and threaten to drown me.
And when TH looks over and I'm staring into space, he knows the tide has come in and I'm staring at the world from the bottom of the sea.
Of all the girls in my world, the ones who are just good friends of mine, the ones who started out their TTC journeys around the time I did, the ones who started later, the ones who didn't intend to start at all...the last two got their BFPs last week. I'm not saying there are no other girls who are still out there, still trying, girls who have been trying for much longer than me. I'm saying in my immediate universe, I'm the last one. And not the last one out of like three or four. TH and I counted last night (ok, I counted for him)--13. Thirteen girls who were in my immediate circle of friends, regardless of how we met or whether we're family. And that's not even the count of tangential acquaintances who have gotten their BFPs in the last six months. I stopped counting that number at 24.
What's weighing so heavily on me about that is not that I begrudge any of them their BFPs, their golden tickets to move forward out of this purgatory, this waiting room. It's just that I'm left. Our weekly check-ins (bless you, Monkey, I know you're still there with me) will now be empty. Or at least partially filled with girls I have no connection to, no emotional investment in. And who am I going to drink with at FJHHs? That's right: TH. He volunteered to come drink with me. I guess fertility juice would do us both some good. How sad is that? My husband is stepping so that I don't have to drink alone.
I went out shopping with my mom the day after Christmas. We had to return a shirt my dad got that was the wrong size. We tried to find the counter that had the shortest line, a counter in an out-of-the-way nook of the store. We ended up at the baby section. For the first time in six months, I wasn't drawn to looking at those tiny, adorable little clothes. For the first time, it hurt me to look at them. It felt like my heart was a similarly charged magnet and it was being repelled from them. It actually felt like my heart was being pushed back, away from them. Or maybe not pushed. Maybe it was backing away from them on its own. Maybe it just didn't want to be surrounded by the reminder, a thousand tiny, adorable reminders, that I am left.
So yeah, there's this elephant in the room that follows me around everywhere I go. When I'm not thinking about it, when I find a way to be blessedly distracted, I'll suddenly remember that there's something going on, there's something big that is floating at the corner of my consciousness, some shadow I can see out of the corner of my eye, and I wonder what it was that I have going on, and then I remember, and the elephant returns to sit on me, and I remember why I feel so heavy. This happens a thousand times a day.
I know I shouldn't be so gloomy. I know I should be optimistic and upbeat and hopeful. But I'm just finding it pointless this time. Why get excited and hopeful when I can just wait and see what happens? Why risk the fall, the feeling of foolishness, the insanity of doing the same things we've been doing for six months and expecting a different outcome? TH told me last night he didn't want me lifting something heavy because I'm pregnant. Again, again, he's confident. Sure. Certain. I asked him how he does it, and why he wants me to NOT get my hopes up. He laughed and said it's because he's so used to being wrong, it doesn't crush him the way it crushes me. Silly man. Always protecting me.
So I've thrown myself into projects. Our cats ruined the carpet in the third bedroom, so we had it stripped out. I had the brilliant idea of painting it before we put the new carpet in. So we are. We are painting our nursery. Our future nursery. Maybe not the best project to keep me distracted from babies, but strangely enough it has helped. Given me something concrete to focus on. And we're having to do it in stages--first the top half, wait for that to dry. Then the bottom half, wait for that to dry. Then the stars on top of the bottom half, wait for that to dry. Then the chair rail. Then the new carpet. This should take me a while. Which is good.
We also bought new bookshelves for our office. Finally. We had been using the Walmart bookshelves I had gotten for my first apartment in college ten years ago. So we are going to put those together today.
And we have a lot of laundry to do. A lot of putting away presents. Planning of New Year's Eve festivities. Packing up of Christmas decorations.
So that's how I'm keeping distracted. From my temps (funny temp story: I wake up early to temp and then go back to sleep. After temping this morning, after a drop, I kept dreaming, hoping, it was tomorrow morning already so that I could temp again and see if it came back up, see if the pattern looked better than it looked today). From what DPO it is. From my lack of hope. From my knowledge that everyone else has moved on. From all these things that dance at the edge of my thoughts and threaten to drown me.
And when TH looks over and I'm staring into space, he knows the tide has come in and I'm staring at the world from the bottom of the sea.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Merry Christmas
Ignoring the fact that this entire holiday surrounds an un-wed mother who got KU without even having sex yet...
Merry Christmas!!
Hope your holiday is merry and bright.
With love,
K.
Merry Christmas!!
Hope your holiday is merry and bright.
With love,
K.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Eyes Up Here, Dude
So Thursday night we had TH's company Christmas party at a restaurant downtown. I hadn't eaten anything since noon, and we got down there just after 8. The first thing we were told was that the open bar only lasted until dinner was served, so we hightailed it to the bar for our free booze!
So was we were standing around making small talk, one of TH's coworkers we hung out with a fair amount at the last company gathering in Cancun but who has since quit the company to go back to school saw us across the "circle." Technically, because we were standing on the same side of the circle as him, he only saw our faces.
Now picture this: he actually stepped backwards, out of the circle, and quickly but obviously checked out my stomach.
W.T.F.
I could only think of two possibilities: (1) TH had told him about the baby-making plans and he was looking for a bump, or (2) he saw how round my face has gotten compared to the last time we hung out (which, for the record, was between an Olympic-distance and a half-ironman triathlon, so I was in...different...shape) and was looking to see how fat I've gotten.
Neither of those are good scenarios for my mental health. 10 minutes later, the entire shaker of Mexican martini (with the good tequila too, not the cheap stuff--hey it was free!) was gone and I was headed back to the bar for my second shaker full.
Let's recap. Haven't eaten in more than 8 hours. Not a big drinker anymore. Chugged a shaker full of top-shelf tequila in 10 minutes and got about half-way through a second.
Needless to say, I ended up shnockered. As for how the rest of the evening went, let's just say if we end up pregnant this cycle, we won't be telling junior where he or she was conceived.
Happy Holidays!
So was we were standing around making small talk, one of TH's coworkers we hung out with a fair amount at the last company gathering in Cancun but who has since quit the company to go back to school saw us across the "circle." Technically, because we were standing on the same side of the circle as him, he only saw our faces.
Now picture this: he actually stepped backwards, out of the circle, and quickly but obviously checked out my stomach.
W.T.F.
I could only think of two possibilities: (1) TH had told him about the baby-making plans and he was looking for a bump, or (2) he saw how round my face has gotten compared to the last time we hung out (which, for the record, was between an Olympic-distance and a half-ironman triathlon, so I was in...different...shape) and was looking to see how fat I've gotten.
Neither of those are good scenarios for my mental health. 10 minutes later, the entire shaker of Mexican martini (with the good tequila too, not the cheap stuff--hey it was free!) was gone and I was headed back to the bar for my second shaker full.
Let's recap. Haven't eaten in more than 8 hours. Not a big drinker anymore. Chugged a shaker full of top-shelf tequila in 10 minutes and got about half-way through a second.
Needless to say, I ended up shnockered. As for how the rest of the evening went, let's just say if we end up pregnant this cycle, we won't be telling junior where he or she was conceived.
Happy Holidays!
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