Sob Story

Oh my God I am annoying.

I don't think I've stopped crying for 3 days. 

To be fair, my husband has been really pissing me off for the last few days so it's mostly his fault.  But normally I wouldn't get all hysterical about his dickishness.  Now when he's made me mad I can barely yell at him because I'm sobbing too hard.

The other day I got a sandwich to go with avocado on the side and NO RANCH because obviously ranch is super disgusting and why would ANYONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND put ranch on a turkey sandwich?  SICK!  I got back to my office and there was both ranch AND some nasty avocado spread on my sandwich. 

I could have cried.  I really could have.  But my friend was with me and I didn't want her to see how truly crazy I am.

I better get an awesome GD Christmas present.

Sadness

My best friend has another good friend that I see occasionally.  We aren't best buds or anything, but we see each other a few times a year at parties and showers and such.  She and I found out we were pregnant within a couple weeks of each other and her due date is 2 days before mine.

This weekend she went in to pre-term labor and this morning her baby boy was born.  And died. 

I can't stop thinking about her and feeling so helpless and sad for her and her husband.  I know every time she sees me now, it will make her think of her angel and I wish that no woman ever had to live through that pain. 

Uh, I Was Calling About, Um, My Vagina?

My body is weirding me out.  I mean, I have a lot of weirdo stuff happening right now.  I've called my doctor twice in the last 2 days. 

Wednesday night I was having Braxton Hicks contractions.  They told me to call if I ever had more than 4 in an hour.  If I just sat there and did nothing, I didn't have any, but if I stood up, I would instantly have one.  I don't know about you, but I have to stand up to go anywhere or get anything done.  And I definitely have to stand up to walk to the bathroom to pee every 10 minutes.  So I wasn't sure what to do.  So I waited it out and luckily they haven't been as bad since.  Maybe I just overdid it that day?  Who knows.

Now I'm having some other issues that I'm sure you don't care to know about and I don't care to tell.  But I had to call the doctor again and leave a message for the nurse in reference to my vagina.  If you've never left somebody a message about your vagina, you should give it a try.  It's pretty much impossible not to stammer and say uh, um, and clear your throat 5 times. 

Next up, my bowels.  Yeah, my bowels.  Skip this paragraph if you don't want to know.  Pregnancy fucks up your pooping schedule.  I've had a rough go of the poo the last few days and today (at work of course) finally got sweet relief.  I think the whole building might have heard me exclaim "HOORAY FOR POOPING!!!"  I wonder if I could incorporate that into a Christmas song. 

How My Life Continues to Rock

You know what's great? 

My husband, that's what.

I told you before that a few years ago we had some trouble and had a rough time for a bit right?  Well we seem to have worked through most of those issues and picked up a few more along the way.  I'm starting to understand that's just how marriage is.  Maybe when we're like 60 we'll have fought about everything we could possibly fight about and then we'll just be a grumpy old couple that gives their kids money and wears bermuda shorts to Hawaii. 
Sounds kinda great right?

Anyway, I've really noticed lately that my hubs has taken a lot of things to heart that I tell him about myself.  Like for example, when I'm pregnant and sensitive and get jealous of the hot young chicks he works with, he needs to just say some nice things to me to make me feel good and I will get over it.  In the past he would just get pissed off and give me a harsh lecture about how he's never given me any reason to be suspicious.  (I think he doesn't realize that 21 year old Big Boobs McGee possibly doesn't give a shit that he's married and also blatantly flirts with him in front of me.  And get this, on the Christmas card writes "You're the best boss ever!  I love you!")  Insert retching and vomiting and possible fist swinging here.

My point, oh yeah, I was getting to a point.  So I got kinda jealous and silly over some stupid stuff like that.  In my mind I know it's just me being sensitive because I know he wouldn't ever go there, but I still got all puffed up with sad and jealous air.  He sat me down on his lap and just hugged me and told me that he thinks of me as family that never ends, like his parents or his kids.  And then there was a whole speech about how happy he is now and that me, my son, and our unborn baby are his whole world and how he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it.

Sigh.

He frustrates the hell out of me a lot, but I've got a good one ladies.   

Random Weekend Conversations

1.  When I was a teenager and possibly into my early 20's, I may or may not have indulged in an herbal drug occasionally.  I started dating a guy who used this particular herb 4 or 5 times a day.  He's not exactly the guy I brag about dating, but he was sweet and became my boyfriend for a few months.  One day I decided that we should partake of the herb and have intercourse.  (Don't you love it when people call it intercourse?)  I hadn't really had a lot of intercourse up until this boyfriend, so it was like a new experience to plan it around something as outstanding as drugs. 
After the partaking, I immediately wanted pizza.  I mean, who wouldn't?  So we ordered a pizza and I convinced boyfriend to massage my calves.  I have no idea why.  Then I fell asleep with the pizza on my chest.  He tried to wake me for the intercourse and I slapped his hand away and went back to pizza dreamland.  Oops.

2.  It appears that I base my initial like or dislike of people on whether or not they think I'm funny.  I met a girl awhile ago that laughed at my jokes all night and I immediately wanted to make out with her.  Then another weekend I met a girl who thought everything that came out of my mouth was super UN-funny and I really hated that bitch.  So if you want to be my BFF, you better fucking laugh at my jokes dick.

3.  I am now crying at everything and I leak pee.  Laughing, crying, sneezing or coughing equals peeing in my pantaloons.  Fun.

Fat Mouth

Have I ever told you about how I have a big, fat mouth?  Not fat like overweight (although slowly getting there) but fat like I say things that get me in trouble.  A lot.  Like a lot, a lot.

One time I said the following words to a girl I had just met: "How can you be so skinny and have such a big ass?"

I meant it as a compliment. 

And I was drunk. 

But she wasn't. 

I mean, who doesn't want a big old awesome booty?  I have done a gazillion squats and lunges at the gym to try and beef mine up.

For those of you that are all, whatev! take some of my butt then, I have to tell you that in my case, the grass IS greener on the other side.  I get BELLY fat which is like a million times worse than butt fat. 

It just is.  I swear.  No bikinis, no tight shirts, no way of hiding it really.

But I digress.  The other day at work, I opened my big fat mouth again.  I told a co-worker something that was confidential and really just inappropriate.  As soon as the words escaped my krispie kreme lips, I regretted them.  (And then proceeded to kick my own tiny ass.)

I felt bad all day and then decided to tell my boss that I had screwed up.  Who knows if he would have ever found out but the guilt was tormenting me and I figured it was best to come clean and admit that I am an idiot and possibly should be fired.  (Ok, I don't think I should be fired, but that's how guilty I felt.)

So I told him (over email) and tomorrow will face what comes next.  It sucks when you know better but still fuck up, but I guess that never ends.  Hopefully we get better at it, but it's bound to happen sometimes right? 

This is the part where you tell me how badly you've screwed up and how I did the right thing by fessing up.


and go....

My New Drug

A couple weeks ago, I thought I felt the baby move.  I pretty much always either have gas or have to poop though so I couldn't be sure if it was the delight of my uterus or my intestines that I was actually feeling.

I kept paying close attention, however, and the movements have gotten stronger and easier to recognize.  By last week, I was sure that it was actually the human moving and began to try to feel him move from the outside as well. 

And now I'm obsessed.

Anytime he moves, I am like a junkie with a needle... that's all I can focus on.  If I don't feel movement for a little while, I start jabbing my fingers into my guts to try and get a little wiggle out of him.  Hubs was able to feel some movement on Saturday night (which was also my birthday and we were staying at a romantic bed and breakfast at the time.  I know right?)

You see, this is one of those moments, one of the feelings and experiences you pray for in the throes of infertility.  I remember many cries when all I could think about was how I longed to feel little feet kicking me from the inside, and how I thought I was never again going to be able to live through that and know the magic that it brings to your heart.

And now it's mine.  And I get to keep it for four and a half more months.  And I could probably die from the happiness. 

As if I Have a Say

Since it has been so long since I was pregnant (successfully,)  I sort of thought that this pregnancy would go a certain way.  For example, I know that people say you show a lot earlier with subsequent pregnancies, but I thought since it had been awhile and I was a rock star triathlete* and worker outer over the last few years that my muscles were probably back to normal shape and I wouldn't show early.  WRONG.  I think I started showing at about 8 weeks.  Of course, I was also a champion beer drinker over the last few years so I also weighed about 10 more pounds starting out this time.

I was never sick a single day with my first pregnancy.  Sure I got a little nauseous here and there, but nothing consistent and I never actually threw up.  I've heard of ladies who hurl their whole first pregnancy and then pregnancies after that seem to go more smoothly.  Well, yesterday, I started coughing (oh because I've been sick for 4 weeks now) and when I coughed up some goo, it set off my gag reflex and I started vomiting in the kitchen sink.  So it was a combination cough and throw up that sent my poor son and husband running in to check on me because it sounded like I might be dying. 

Oh yeah and during the cough/vomit fest, I peed my pants.

So it's turned out to be a less than glamorous pregnancy for me, but on the upside, my skin looks great and I'm growing a human.  So... I've got that going for me.  Which is nice.


*Ok so I only did 2 sprint triathlons and I really sucked at them, but I think you qualify as a rock star if you finish.

Sometimes You Just Need to be Right

And sometimes you just need somebody to tell you that you ARE right.  Or maybe I just need that.  I don't know.

Hubs and I have been together for nearly 11 years.  The first few years we were pretty good about squelching fights and being nice to each other.

Then we had a rough patch.

I mean a really, really rough patch.  Like kick you in the balls and spit on your head type of thing.  I won't be specific but it's kind of a wonder that we're still together.  (Oh yeah and I don't really have balls.)

After the rough patch, we recommitted ourselves to our marriage and our child and promised that we would never put each other through something like that again.

And now we are super committed to each other but we fight.  A lot.  Like a lot, a lot.

I think it's mostly because we are both really stubborn and feel like we need to stand our grand with one another.  I do that because I felt like he bossed me around in the beginning and I, trying to be the peacemaker, just accepted that but then resented him for it.  Of course I can't speak for him but I think he does it because he's just naturally very aggressive and a leader and ok, a little old fashioned.

But I digress.  Last night we had a whopper of a fight.  It was over something really stupid and at some points in the argument, I thought maybe, possibly I might just be a little hormonal and oversensitive, but damn it, that's what I was feeling and I wasn't going to just blame it on myself.

I slept on the couch.

This morning, Hubs asked me if I could meet him for coffee before work (after not speaking all morning.)  I did and after nearly finishing my coffee, he finally spoke:

"I was wrong."

That's what he said.  "I was wrong."

I think my heart stopped beating for a second and I may have simultaneously peed my pants and threw up in my mouth a little.  Then of course I cried and instantly forgave him.  (You can assume from this response that he doesn't admit to being at fault very often.)

Sometimes you just need someone to acknowledge your feelings and swallow their pride.  It made me love him just a little bit more.  

Disturbing

You know what isn't awesome? 

Nipple hairs.  And mustaches on girls.

I remember when I was young and sexy and skinny and stuff.  That was fun.  But now it's all, gotta shave my pubes and pluck my nipple hairs and maybe I'll wash my face today.  I should probably do that.  Yeah and while I'm at it, maybe run a razor across my legs and armpits.

My husband says he thinks I'm sexy no matter what and even if I get a 70's bush, he'll still want to bone me.  But I think that's his way of blatantly lying in the hopes that his "unconditional" boner will inspire me to keep a razor and some deodorant on hand.

I still manage to wash my hair every other day and get my laundry done every other weekend.  So I'm calling that good for a 30-something preggo with a kid and a full time job.  (Ok, ok, it's only 30 hours a week, but technically that's full time.)

F U Wei.ght Wat.chers

Want to hear something amazing? 

I haven't gained any weight.... Like not a pound since I've been pregnant.

Want to hear something amazinger?

Today I have eaten a fried chicken sandwich, french fries, orange juice, Squirt, sour patch watermelons and lemonheads.

I know right?

I'm sure it'll catch up to me at some point, but it appears right now in this moment, I can eat whatever the fuck I want and my body's all "nice, let me just digest that for you and not put any weight on your ass."

It's the little things ya know?

Good Thing I Saved All the Blue Stuff

It's a boy!!

A beautiful, healthy, alive and kicking little boy.  I love him.

Guess What Today Is?

Ultrasound day!  Seriously.  I am 16 weeks today and they will do a gender check for me at my appointment today.

I am so excited I can't sit still. 

My son is coming with us to the appointment and so is my mom.  My son has been counting down the days and can barely stand it. 

I just can't believe it's happening. 

Before I left for work, I used the doppler to check for the heartbeat.  Just in case.

It was still there.

I think I'm having a baby!

Hooray for my Pregnancy!

I know I've said that I have begun embracing this pregnancy, but I've been hesitant to write about it because I wanted to be sensitive to the IF community I'm part of.

Well, I've decided that even if I lose readers, it's time to make this blog more about my pregnancy and less about my infertility.  Perhaps I'll gain a different set of readers.  There's just so much built up in me that I have to get out.

So here goes.  What the fuck is UP with my boobs???  I mean, WOW, these things have taken on a life of their own.  It's amazing.  I mean I've never been small chested by any means, but I am moving up into the DD's or maybe even larger.  I haven't been sized or bought new bras because I'm a cheap ass.  I just deal with the fact that my nipples fall out when I bend over.

And speaking of nipples.... um, mine are ginormous and weird looking and sort of space shippy.  I remember my boobs getting weird with my son too, but that was like forever ago so this is new to me again.

So yeah, big huge boobs and my belly is already getting huge too.  I have attached a photo for your viewing pleasure.  This is at 14 weeks and my large belly is making my boobs look smaller, but trust me, these babies are worthy of a dirty magazine.

Yay ICLW!

Well it's ICLW time again.  I've taken the last few months off because in July, I got pregnant.  So, if you're not into reading pregnant blogs, I totally understand and won't be offended if you click away right now.

If you are willing to take a peek, then you will see that even though my fertility struggle seems to be over, it was 3 long years of miscarriages, doctors, crying and lots of sex for sure.  I'm still seeing the doctors, just to keep me on the straight and narrow and every once in awhile I give it up to my husband now, but it's nothing like the hump fest we had for 3 years.

I'm due in April and at this point I look like I have a beer belly (well, because I do) and I also seem to be farting a lot.  It's fun and exciting and slightly foreign since it has been 7 years now since my first bebe.  I still haven't bought a thing for this pregnancy because somewhere, my infertile recurrent miscarrying self is still rearing her ugly head and not letting me believe in it.  I hope to get there soon, but in the meantime, I'm still feeling a little pessimistic and A LOT scared. 

P.S.  Even though this post doesn't make it evident, I say fuck a whole lot and also yell at ignorant slut bags and morons even more.

Lunch Today

28 cent cup of noodles.

Milky Way.

I hope those pre-natals are doing the trick.

Alone Again

My husband is a business owner, an entrepreneur, a wannabe rancher and an overachiever.

He's busy.  All. The. Time.

Take for instance, this week.  Monday he worked until 9.  Tuesday til midnight.  Yesterday was his birthday and he wasn't sure what time he'd be done working so I didn't make plans.  I didn't have to because it turns out his work friends planned a surprise party for him. 

And didn't invite me. 

(To be fair, my husband did call and invite me once he knew what was happening, but what the fuck right???)  Tonight it's almost 11 and he's still not home.

It's a hard line to walk when I know that he is working hard and it benefits my family and myself too, but I am lonely and missing him and having a hard time being a mom on my own.

I've tried all the talks, and the date nights and family night.  He just gets busy and sometimes can't stick to it.

Anyone else have workaholic husbands?  How do you reconcile the part of your brain that's grateful for the hard workin' man with the part of your heart that really needs your husband more?

Score 1 For My Vagina Doctor

Can I just gush for a minute about my doctor?

I fucking love her.

I'd probably show her my vagina even if she wasn't a medical doctor.

Ok, no I wouldn't, but I'd invite her over and make her dinner and drink wine with her if I could.  It's probably against some patient doctor policy to do that so I've never asked, but she's that kind of chick.  Like one who could be your bestie.

And that's what my appointments are like.  Well, first I wait in the waiting room for her for an hour (still like my bestie.)  Then when I get back there, I chat with her like she's my girlfriend.  It doesn't feel all "I'm a doctor and you're an idiot so I'm talking down to you now."  It's more like "Dude, when will I stop puking and getting headaches and feeling depressed?"  And she's all "Homie, take it easy on yourself.  You're doing a fine job growing a human.  You rock.  Now go home and put your feet up and drink a glass of wine if you want."

I love her.

We talked about the depression and I did realize that a lot of my depressiveness is because I feel like ASS every day.  On the days I actually feel good, I am quite happy (although still a complainer apparently.)  I'm starting to have more good days so I'm hoping that now that I am in the 2nd trimester(!) that I will have less puking and headaches and more exercise and orgasms.

Look at me and my positive attitude.  I'm already becoming less of an asshole.

Damn You Inspiring Quotes

I don't know if you guys have noticed or not, but I'm just a little bit cynical.  And frustrated.  And possibly a little bit negative.

Which really pisses me off because I feel positive, but I find myself complaining.  A lot.

The shitty part is that it's kind of a joke among my friends that I have the worst fucking luck of anyone we know.  I mean, a lot of BAD BAD things happen to me.  At this point, I just have to laugh at them because it's just the way it is.  I try to use the magical powers of The Secret to get some good shit coming my way, but every few weeks I have a break down when, oh I don't know, my water gets shut off or I rip the front end off of my car.

Then today, somebody posted this super awesome quote on their FB that said, "We have no right to ask when sorrow comes, "Why did this happen to me?" Unless we ask the same question for every moment of happiness that comes our way."

I don't know why that really struck me, but it did.  I definitely have WAY WAY more good things happen in my life than bad, but it just seems like the bad stuff pounds me in the ass over and over sometimes and it's hard to not bitch about it.

I'm not saying I'm all the sudden going to be this super positive person, because let's face it, I get a laugh out of my negativity sometimes.  But I am saying that I'm going to try to shift the focus a little and be more stoked about the good things and less whiny bitch about the bad.

Everything's Not Fine

Everything IS fine with the baby.

Everything is not fine with my brain.  I've dealt with some depression issues before and it seems like I'm dealing with some now.

I didn't even realize it until one of my good friends told me yesterday that she was diagnosed with post-partum depression.  She told me all the causes and her symptoms.  I started laughing (at myself not her) and asked her if you could have PPD while you are still pregnant.  And well, yes, you sure can.

My next doctor appointment is Monday so I'm planning on discussing it with her.

Nothing about this pregnancy is the same.  Nothing.

How I Almost Ended Up in the Looney Bin Today

Ok, ok, I know that "looney bin" isn't politically correct or something, but wait 'til you hear what I managed to do to myself today.

It actually started out great.  A girl from work texted to say we were having power problems and not to come in until noon.  I realized Bugs had hot lunch today so I didn't have to make him the usual PB&J and a bag of grapes that he never eats.  I headed out the door in my pajamas to take him to school so that I could come home and get back in bed.

Then I backed out of the garage, snagged my bumper on the corner and ripped the whole front end off my car.  I called my insurance company and they said they were having trouble "verifying coverage."  What this translates to is that my policy just renewed and due to some unfortunate shit on my dear husband's license, they have raised our monthly rate from 184 dollars to 853 dollars.  Yep, that's 853 dollars PER MONTH for car insurance. 

Um fuck.

We're thinking the whole thing is a mistake and working on getting it resolved, and they said they'd still cover getting my car fixed because our policy is current.  So I got a rental and guess what the mileage was when I got in.

No, really.  Guess.

You'll never guess.

It was 666.  I'm not kidding.

OHMYFUCKINGGODINEEDADRINKSOBAD!!!!

Do You Need a Tissue?

I've noticed this, uh, phenomenon of sorts lately.  It all goes back to the days when I was either 1 - NOT pregnant, or 2 - pregnant and having a miscarriage.  People checked on me a lot and everyone felt super sorry for me.  It sucked to be the pity person, but I also hoped those people hugged their babies just a little bit tighter that night, and I think they did.

These same people are now repeatedly checking up on me and mah pregnancy.  It's really sweet and of course, I can't talk about it enough, but, well, um, they all start crying.  Well not everyone, some of my friends are still pissed that I can't get drunk with them anymore.  But the ones who aren't  alcoholics are very interested and very weepy.

They are just so happy for me that it is finally going well and it causes them to cry.  Weird* huh?

* I don't mean weird like stop crying or calling me.  Just weird like unexpected.

Moms Kick Ass

This weekend, Hubs was out of town.  I'm nearly 32 years old and only slightly ashamed to say that when I'm home alone, I get scared.  Every little noise wakes me up and I give serious thoughts to setting boobie traps throughout my house in case somebody does actually break in. 

So after getting no sleep Wednesday or Thursday night, I decided to pack a bag on Friday night and take Bugs for a sleepover at grandma's.  (Oh yeah, and I was sleeping over there too.)  My mom and dad were really nice about it and didn't even say anything about what a pussy I am or how I should maybe grow a pair and be a grown up.

It couldn't have been better timing either because Saturday morning I woke up vomiting.  Like actually woke up when the vomit was starting to come out.  Sa-weeeeeet!!!  It wasn't from the pregnancy either.  Oh no.  This was some type of food poisoning, or according to my theory, a new virus that has not been discovered yet because people would tell you about it.  I mean, if you guys knew about this virus already and didn't tell me, well, then, I fucking disown your asses.

So there I was, all of Saturday and some of Sunday, puking and the other gross stuff.  My mom let me stay in her bed.  She brought me 7-up and chicken noodle soup and water and popsicles. 

Oh yeah and took care of my son all weekend. 

I love my kid and all but I do wonder if when he is 31 I'm going to be all "yeah come throw up and shit yourself all over my house and I'll take care of you and clean up after you!" 

My mom is awesome.

How $100 Can Turn You Into a Crazy Lady

I used to see a therapist and it was pretty much awesome.  (Well except the $100 per hour part.)  Back then, when I felt like crying, I would take deep breaths to hold back the tears.  One day, my shrink said, "Why do you do that?  Why not just cry?" 

I didn't cry because if I cried every time I felt like it, I would be a mess all day every day.  But after that session, I decided to give it a try, and I just went ahead and cried whenever I felt like it.  Oh yeah, and every since.  I can't stop the tears anymore, even if I take huge breaths.  I just look like a blubbering idiot gasping for air.

Yesterday I was in the shower and I started crying.  I was thinking about when my son was born.  My pregnancy with him was like a dream - I was never sick, I loved being pregnant, and when I actually gave birth, I had to push TWICE.  Yep, twice.  Nice right?  Then there was the bliss after he was born of just looking at him and loving him unconditionally already.

And that's what I cried about.

It is just incredible how you can love a little person so instantly with pure raw emotion and without any prejudice on whether or not they'll love you back.  My husband looked at him and said, with tears in his eyes, "I would live or die for him right now."  I would have too, and we both still would to this day.

Happiest day of my life.

Things I'll Never Understand

• Why men (my husband specifically) put their bowl in the sink when it is literally, 12 inches from the dishwasher.
• Calculus.
• Radio commercials that are a spoof on real songs and are REAL annoying.
• Why when there are 2 lanes merging, people get really pissed off at you if you drive up the closing lane until the merge sign.  I mean, there's still 2 lanes people, why aren't we using them both?  I especially like it when some douchebag in a hummer blocks both lanes so nobody can do that.
• Douchebags in hummers.
• Mayonnaise.
• Family Guy.
• How my son can eat macaroni and cheese every. single. day. and never get sick of it.  I sure get sick of making it.
• The fact that my husband and I both make good money, yet we never have any.

What about you?  What drives you crazy or is beyond comprehension?

Blog Changes and How I'm an Urban Legend

We saw the baby today.  It moved and it's heart was beating.  I'm 10 weeks and taking this seriously now.

Therefore, new blog name that I'm not sure I'm crazy about so it might change again and I updated my info so everyone will know that my situation has changed and I have overcome mightily being fertility challenged.


Next - I figured out that I am an urban legend.  I was on clomid for 3 months and didn't get pregnant.  They told me to take a break from the drugs so I decided to make it a total break.  I didn't track my cycle  (well not diligently anyway.)  I only had sex with my husband when I wanted to, which I kinda forgot what that was like.  We took a vacation, which is theoretically when we conceived.

This will be the ONLY time ever that I will admit to these facts because I'm quite positive that they had absolutely NOTHING to do with it, but just wanted to point out how Mother Nature fucks with me has a sense of humor. 

Don't Hate Me Because I Started Christmas Shopping

Thanks to everyone for your advice on my last post.  I have decided to keep on truckin' and when I am past the 1st trimester, I will change the name of my blog and most likely, the focus.  I WILL, however, keep saying FUCK a whole lot and probably making fun of random people. 


Next... Bugs's birthday is in December which is a wonderful time to be 9 months pregnant, but a horrible time after about age 3 because that is a lot of gift giving in one month what with the birthday and the Christmas.  So, last year I started shopping in September.  Every paycheck, I would go to the toy store, pick up 1 or 2 gifts and then store them in my closet.

I decided to go ahead with that plan this year because it eliminated the stress of coming up with a ton of extra money all at once in December.  Ok, that's not true at all because I didn't get anyone else a gift except Bugs so I still had to shop for all those assholes.  BUT, I did have Bugs done before his birthday and that was nice because, although I do love giving gifts, I think the whole "buy everyone and their dog a present" for Christmas is kind-of bull shit.  I know people are going to get me stuff, so I feel obligated to get them stuff. 

But I digress.  With today's paycheck, I bought Bugs a Pillow Pet.  Have you seen them?  "It's a pillow.... it's a pet.... It's a PILLOW PET!!"   He has wanted one for like a year but I'm kinda lazy at the Internet ordering plus I hate paying shipping because I'm a cheap ass.  Well now Walgreen's carries them.  Woot woot!  So I stopped and bought the dog one and my god it is so. DAMN. cute!

I might not make it 'til Christmas before I give it to him.  I might not make it past today.

Crossroads

So, it's my hundredth post.  I think that's like supposed to be a milestone or something, but I really just noticed it and it kinda fell on a perfect day.

Because I'm at a crossroads.

I'm not sure what to do with this blog right now.

I'm sick all day and every single thing I'm feeling or thinking about has to do with how shitty I feel that day, which in turn has to do with my pregnancy.

My pregnancy on this blog about infertility.

On one hand, I want to believe that everyone out there in IF land is super dooper happy for my and rushes to my blog to read about how everything is going swimmingly.

On the other hand, I know how frustrating a road IF and recurrent loss is and how hearing somebody complain about their morning sickness and constipation makes you roll your eyes and wish you could reach through the computer and bitch slap them because you would DIE to have those problems.

So I guess I'm asking for your advice.  My blog only began this March, even though my struggle to conceive and keep a pregnancy began a long time ago.  What have others in the community done with their conversion to pregnancy?

Should I end this blog because my struggle is seemingly over?  Or should I hang on and just try to be sensitive to my lovely IF friends?

Ok, So I Can't Count

Spoiler Alert:  In my next post, I say it's my 100th post.

It wasn't.  I suck and can't count.  Therefore, useless post 99 so that I'm no longer a liar.

How to Talk to Your In-Laws About Constipation

I went to my in-laws this weekend.  They are older than my parents by quite a bit so it's always interesting spending time with them.  Super fun and all, but just different.

We eat dinner (after seemingly hours of farm work) at 9:00 p.m.  Even when I'm not pregnant, I am a huge bitch pain in the ass when I'm hungry.  When I am pregnant, like now, I am a nauseous huge pain in the ass.

Oh yeah, and I hadn't pooped for like, oh I don't know, EVER.

So I'm hungry, grumpy, constipated and nauseous.  Nice right?

I decided to go to bed after dinner because I feel like total ass.  Hubs came to check on me and I asked him to get me some PRUNE juice.  As in what old farts drink.  So yeah, he gets me some PRUNE (disgusting ass) juice and has a discussion with his mom about my constipation problems. 

Saaaa-weeeeet!!!

So the next morning, I wake up to both his mom and dad giving me advice on what to eat to cure my constipation problems.  Awkward.  His mom had even cut up a bowl of fruit for me to eat.  It was really sweet, but I'm really only comfortable discussing my uncomfortable bowels with my Hubs. 

He's so pleased.

The Evolution of My Fear

Of course with infertility there are a great number of fears.  The what ifs of having something wrong with you or your husband, or if you'll ever get pregnant or if you're less of a woman because your body isn't working out quite right.

Then there are the fears of repeat miscarriage, which are somewhat the same as infertility, although there are some very different, very scary fears there as well.

So after over 8 weeks of pregnancy, I have discovered new fears, beyond miscarriage.  Very unexpected fears.  Fears that I really never gave ANY thought to, and are now just creeping up since this pregnancy dream seems to be coming to fruition:

1 - I have no fucking clue what to do with a newborn.

2 - All I own is a crib and a few baby clothes.

3 - How in the world can we afford a baby?

I realize I should have given thought to these fears a long time ago, but I was so focused on actually getting myself knocked up that I failed to see the forest through the trees.  I guess since I wasn't sure it would ever happen, I didn't worry needlessly about other fears. 

Although come to think of it, that is so not like me.  Hmm.  Weird.

Another Post About Something That I Hate

You know what I hate?

People that are dicks.

Size 10 Update

So all my jeans suck.  Ok maybe not all of them, but the ones I tend to put on every day because they are comfortable... they seem to be getting holes in them where nobody wants to see holes.  And every day when I put them on, I think to myself, "I hope these jeans don't tear today when I bend over.  If they do tear, which they are totally going to, then I just hope it is when I'm getting in my car or someplace non-embarrassing like that."  (Side note, it took me 4 tries to spell embarrassing right.  2 R's and 2 S's.  Who knew?)

So I decided to bite it and go spend the last dollars in my checking account on some new jeans.  I'm 5'10, size 12, with a 35 inch inseam, so jean shopping is somewhat like torture chambers in Tudors England for me.  Ok ok it's not like getting quartered, but it really really sucks.

I went to Amer.ican Ea.gle because they do sometimes have long jeans and they are about half the price of the jeans I normally buy at The Bu.ckle.  And get this.

I found 2 pair that fit.

They were a size 10 long.

They were buy one get one half off. 

That, my friends, is the most epic jeans buying story in the history of my jean shopping LIFE.  Please don't tell me if AE jeans run big or something because I don't care.  I tried on a size 10 and they zipped up easily.  The girl in the store even told me to get a size 8 because they stretch so much.  I love her for saying that but considering my current sitch, I decided size 10 was blissful enough.

Great Day

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel like you just nailed it?  Like life that day, you just did good.  Did it right.

I had one of those days today.

Well right after I fought with my husband.  That didn't go so well, but that was like 9 a.m. so it doesn't even really count as part of the day yet.

After that, I went to the gym and did some mediocre cardio on the elliptical.  Oh and I had to try 3 different machines before I could get one to work.  And I started crying.

This day does NOT sound that amazing so far, but I swear it was.

Next I went to acupuncture and it was awesome of course.  Super relaxing and nappy and delightful.  I was naturally starving when I finished and was near one of my favorite Italian places so I decided to take myself to lunch.

If you've never had a meal at a restaurant by yourself, do it.  Like tomorrow.  It's the best.

So there I was with my spaghetti and meatballs and my bowl of tomato basil soup (insert drooling here.)  It was fabulous and quiet and wonderful.

Next, I went home and napped for 2 hours.  That's right.  2 hours.

Picked Bugs up from school, got him a haircut, got a snack, took him to soccer practice.  Then we came home, hung out together, did 3 pages of homework together.  Then Bugs wanted to practice his soccer skillz, so I busted out mine (I don't have any) and we played soccer together in the living room. 

We just read together for a little bit and then I had him tucked in bed at bedtime.

I feel like I'm a pretty good mom most of the time, but there are these days when I just know that I've made a memory for my son and it was GOOD.  Like soccer in the living room and cuddling with a book.

Nailed it.

Dinner Sucks

I caught the tail end of a cooking show this morning and they were making some delicious cheesy pasta with vegetables.  It looked amazing and I wanted to eat it.  Bugs had soccer practice this evening though so by the time I got around to making dinner, I didn't have the ingredients or the energy to go to the store.  I started digging through the freezer for good old chicken and broccoli (again!) when I discovered something magical.  Last time I went to the store, I bought this frozen pasta chicken vegetable cheesy thing that you just heat up in a skillet.  Um hello Universe?  Thank you very much!  The picture on the bag even LOOKED like the awesome dish on tv.

It wasn't.  It sucked.

So then Bugs and I are both starving and eating the noodles and chicken out of the dish, but that's it.  So we were still hungry.  So then, yes, I, being the mom of all moms, heated up a frozen pizza. 

I sure hope Bugs's gummy bear vitamins are helping him since I can't seem to feed him anything healthy.

Knock Knock. Who's There?

I remember my first pregnancy as being all magical with sparkles and rainbows and stuff.  It was 7 god damn years ago, so maybe I have just blocked out the bad and only remembered the unicorns and glitter parts.  Or maybe I was only 25 and all in love and wondrous and shit so I just had a great time.

I dunno.

But this time I am a raving lunatic slash bitch from hell slash nightmare.

I called at least 4 drivers assholes on the way to work this morning.  I flipped someone off.  I called my husband a fucking idiot a half dozen times (not to his face obviously.)  I've gained 2 pounds in a week because all I want is pizza and Chick Fil A.  And I nap on the couch 2-3 times a day. 

It's just shocking how I feel hungover and crazy every day.  I'm really not complaining, honest.  Although other people are starting to....

Fucking morons.

T.L.C is an Asshole

This is the first week of school where Bugs goes all day.  I have Tuesdays and Thursdays off but Tuesday I was busy with random errands and bullshit so I didn't get to spend the whole day with myself.  But today!  Wow!  Today I dropped Bugs off at school, went to the GYM.  That's right people, the gym.  And now I'm home, thinking about how I should be cleaning, but then watching T.LC instead.  (P.S.  Kate is still as scary as ever.)

At first I watched Wh.at N.ot to W.ear, in which a military wife got a makeover right before her Navy husband came home on a ship!  Of course I was bawling my fucking eyeballs out.  Now it's A Ba.by St.ory in which the doctor has just scared the first time mom into a C-section (presumably because he has a tee time coming up.)  More bawling.

Oh and did you know there's like 5 baby shows in a row?????  Are you trying to KILL me TL.C?

Damn Hippies

Over the past couple years, I've been educating myself about food and chemicals and byproducts etc. etc.  I've tried to switch to more natural choices of food with less hormones and pesticides.  I tend to buy organic fruits and vegetables and luckily I've been able to make room for it in my budget.  If I'm having a tight week with money, I'll choose some stuff that's not organic, but for the most part, I try not to.

Bath and body products are a different story.  I am a hair products JUNKIE.  I buy expensive salon products but since I am a massage therapist, I get hair stylist discounts.  So you can see how difficult it is to put down my Redken All Soft and pick up some goo I've never heard of or tried.  I also have pretty long and thick hair, so I've been nervous to switch to all natural shampoos.  Let's face it - at this point I don't see myself making the change from chic, soft, awesome hair to frizzed out, smelly dreadlocks. 

But today I headed to the old natural foods store to pick up some more pre-natals.  I perused the deodorant, lotion and toothpaste aisle and decided to go for it.  I bought some lavender deodorant that has baking soda in it, and some all natural lotion and toothpaste.  I also discovered a natural facial moisturizer that you just mist on to your face.  I'm super excited to try out these products, but I just have one major concern.

I am one sweaty, smelly chick.

I mean, I sweat even when I'm cold.  And you should get a whiff of me after I've gone for a run.  You know, back when I used to go for runs.  So I'm not sure how this deodorant thing is going to work out.  I'm having visions of being wonderfully girly and alot less stinky now that I have like fairy dust and magicalness.  (You know, because I'm pregnant and shit.)  It's going to be interesting to see how I fare as a full blown hippie.  Minus the unruly hair and patchouli. 

Ultrasound Day

I started crying while we were waiting for the doctor to come in.  I was so scared.

He found a sac, a yolk sac, fetal pole and thank the Universe, a heartbeat.  It took a minute to get the heartbeat but it was there.

We aren't out of the woods yet, of course, but it's a good step.

I wish I felt better.  I still feel incredibly unsettled about the whole thing.  I started a conversation with myself about when I am going to feel better about it.  At first I thought it would be when my betas doubled.  That's happened twice.  Still unsettled.  Then I thought it would be when I had symptoms.  I have them all.  Still unsettled.  Ok, when we see a heartbeat.

Still not it.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I have lost 3 babies.  3.  This unsettled feeling may not ever go away.  I might be taking a newborn home in April and still not believe that everything is going to be ok.  That's the thing about the nightmare of recurrent miscarriage - it never ends.  I hope I can wake up from it and be happy soon, but for now I am taking it one day at a time and hoping for the best.

Dear ICLW

Thanks for stopping by my blog.

I pretty much say the F-word in every post.  (And in every sentence I speak.  I realize that it just might make me sound unsmart unintelligent, but it sure feels good.)

I recently found out that I am pregnant again.  This is the 5th time but I've only had 1 child so far.  Things are looking good this time, however, so we're crossing our fingers that... well, you know.

I probably won't be posting any stupid lame stuff on Facebook about my pregnancy because well, OBVIOUSLY.  I'm thinking up some really clever one liners about how pregnancy has affected my sex life and pooping schedule.

I'm always right.  It's a curse and a blessing.

I can't wait to read all your blogs too!  But right now I seem to be nodding off at my keyboard, so.....

I'm CA-RAZY!

I swear in like a week I will start writing more funny, interesting posts that aren't all neurotic and pregnancy related, but for now, I am deeply engrossed in crazy lady land and can't seem to dig myself out.

I started spotting last night.  I mean, it wasn't even close to a murder scene or anything resembling anything close to bad at all.  But it was there.  And it scared me. 

Went for another beta and while in the waiting room I skimmed through this book on how to get through infertility with your sanity (AS IF!)  Anyway, one of the suggestions in the book was to listen to classical music because of it's calming effects.  It said that if you listen to music with cello in it that you are supposed to feel that in your lower abdomen and that it can bring calm to your body there. 

Remember how I said I'm crazy?  Well I went straight to work and turned on Internet radio to classical music with cello in it.  I gotta say I didn't feel it in my lady parts or anything but it was quite relaxing.

And on to the good news  The beta was over 14,000.  I didn't get the whole number because I started crying. 

Ultrasound on Monday.

Signs

I'm pretty much alternating between crying, nodding off, and wanting to vomit.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

And You Think I'M the Bitch?

I can't tell you how many people I've become friends with and they later have said, "When I first met you, I thought you were such a BITCH!!"

Why do people say stuff like that?

And why does everyone think I'm a bitch?

I'm like the nicest person EVER.  Ok, maybe not EVER, but I'm pretty nice. 

Well this weekend I got quite the doozy over the bitch comment.  First of all, I was at a party sponsored by Hubs's company.  Everyone was shit canned, over the top, ridiculously D-R-U-N-K.  Except me, of course, and Hubs because he is awesome.  So of course everyone was like, "Oh, what's wrong?" "Why are you so mad?"  "Why aren't you smiling?"  "Let me get you a DRINK!"  "You're taking a SHOT!  I don't care if you say NO."  (Notice how nobody was telling me how much they love me because I am a bitch.)

Anyway, this one guys says to me, "I'm a gonna tell you thisssssssss, but I'mmmm onlyyyyyy telling you this cuz I'm da-runk!  When I first metttttttttt you, I thoughttttt that you think you are bettttttter than me because you're upppppppper classssss and I'm nottttttt."

Um, fuckingexcuseme drunk dick?

First of all, I'm so far from upper class that it hurts a little.  And second of all, just because I'm not all "Hi!  Your outfit is cute and I love your hair!"  doesn't mean that I am a huge snobby bitch.  I'm just quiet when I first meet people.

I hope he woke up with a big fat hangover and felt like the world's biggest douche.

How IF Has Turned Me Into a Crazy Lady

I've only checked the TP for spotting a half dozen times so far.  Ok, a half dozen times a day.  But I pee like 18 times a day, so my ratio is pretty good.  By the way, the peeing frequency is NOT pregnancy related.  I always have to pee that much.  It's borderline ridiculous.
_____________________________

I went ahead and took a leap and signed up for the weekly pregnancy emails.  The one I got today says "Your Pregnancy: 5 Weeks."  When I first saw it, I got a little thrill, like oh yeah!  I'm actually pregnant.  Then realized that I haven't made it to the Week 6 email for 7 years.  Come on Week 6 email!

_____________________________

My neuroses are kicking in full swing.  My acupuncturist thinks I'm crazy and gives me these not-so-subtle talks about how I need to relax and stop calling the doctor.  Your pulse feels just great!  Ok well I'm not well versed in how my pulse predicts whether my life is going to turn out the way I want it to, but I'm trying to take her word for it.

_____________________________

2nd beta was Saturday and was 2,350.  Sooooo more than double, which is good. 

IF Still Doesn't Make Sense

I went to the fertility clinic yesterday for my beta.  They called me last night to tell me the results and to recommend that I re-test for lupus anticoagulant (I've tested positive once and negative once) just to make sure I shouldn't be on some medications.

So I went back early this morning.  This is when they do egg retrievals. 

The waiting room was full of couples. 

I almost cried. 

I just don't understand why there are so many people that have fertility issues.  And I don't understand how before I had them, I was so unaware and naive about it.  But mostly, I don't understand how people and insurance companies don't comprehend that infertility is a real medical problem.  I had somebody compare IVF to getting a boob job once.

I am so sad for all of us.  That this - THIS has to be our memory of getting pregnant, or NOT getting pregnant.  It's overwhelming and even though it all happens for a reason, believing that doesn't make this any easier. 

Have you heard the saying "it's not the destination, it's the journey"?  Well in our case, it IS the destination and my god we just hope the journey will make it worth it in the end.

Elation

Today's beta: 1,042
17 DPO

So happy.

Torture

I can't make a decision, like ever.

The other night my husband actually told me that he feels sorry for me when I have to make a decision because I just agonize over it forEVER.

And I really do.  I'll feel like I've made up my mind, think some more, and then change it again.

So remember how I picked up a 2nd job?  And then remember how I found out I'm pregnant?  Well now some more analysis has occurred and I'm worried about the stress I am putting on my body by waking up at 3 a.m. and working for 12-14 hours straight.

Insert sleepless night, stomachache from worrying, and worrying because I am worrying too much.

Finally I asked Hubs to just decide for me.  He is sometimes quite the genius and said, "What do you want?  Like long-term?"

I want to be a good mom to my son, pick him up and drop him off at school, and when I get my baby, I want to breast feed and cuddle and take naps with her all day.

Nowhere in this sentence did I mention ANYTHING about either one of my jobs.

So I tearfully called my boss tonight to tell her that I need to quit the program and I hope they won't hold me to the year contract I signed since I'm still in the training phase.  Also cried a little about how I hope the company will welcome me back when I am in a better position to be employed by them.  (I had told her earlier about my situation and she told me to think it over and call her later.)

Ok I left her a voicemail.  I'm a wuss.

I hope I can just move on and not over-analyze the decision.

It's best for my family.  It's best for my family.  It's best for my family.

Here We Go... (Again)

2 pink lines.

That's what I'm getting.

I wish I could be excited, but the last year has jaded fucked me.

Waiting til Friday for the beta so if it's bad I can get it over with in 1 day rather than drag it through the week.

God, please let this be it.

Begging.  Praying.  Hoping.

This Isn't Russia. Or Germany or Whatever*

I hate people that say "uber."  Like, "Uber excited that I finally got my nipples pierced."

Nobody has ever said that to me, but you get my point.  If you say "uber" and read my blog, then I'm uber sorry if I offend you.

I think people who try to pretty it up by throwing some foreign words in their vocabulary should get punched.  Right in the baby makers.

Do you or someone you know pronounce Target like "Taaaaarrrrr-jhayyyyyyy"?

Well stop it.
It's weird.
It's pronounced "Tar-get."
Like a bullesye.

And I also really think it's hilarious when you end a phone conversation and the other person says "Ciao!"  Like we're in the Vatican eating gelato.

I think I'm just going to start responding with "Aloha."

Unless I'm in Hawaii because then people will just think I'm an annoying tourist instead of a sarcastic hag.


*If you live in Russia or Germany or Whatever... please disregard this post.  And keep saying Tar-jhay.

A Few Things

1 - Sometimes I just want to eat at Wendy's.  But only if it's during a rush because I know the fries will be fresh.  Dirty greasy old Wendy's french fries shouldn't even be able to call themselves fries.  They are that bad.  Delicious, fresh, salty new Wendy's fries move my lard ass a little closer to heaven every time I eat one.  Especially when dipped into a chocolate frosty.

2 - Day 3 of my new job training, which P.S. is mandatory, and my son is a puking mess all day and my mom ends up in the ER.  They are both ok, but nothing like some mommy guilt when I'm trying to focus on some chemistry terms I've never heard of before and imaging my sweet, poor little boy sick at home without his mommy.  As if dad will do.  (He totally did do, but I like to think otherwise.)

3 - I have to be at the hospital at 4:45 am for morning rounds.  Um, yeah, 4:45 AM.  That's 4:45 in the morning.  If you've ever stayed in a hospital, you know that this is the time they like to wake you up to run all sorts of tests.  I used to just think that it was because they did an early morning shift change and those nurses wanted to get the fuck home.  Turns out there's actually a medical reason for it.  Who knew.

Hope you all are doing well!  I'm trying to keep up on my favorite blogs but haven't done a stellar job so far.  This 2 job business might not be for me.  Giving it 2 more days to decide.

Unfunny but Existing Post

Dear Blog,

I have missed you so!!  I have been so busy over the last few days and will be working 60 hour weeks for the next 6 weeks.  I am also missing my bed, my son, my sanity and my free time.  But I promise not to desert you totally.  I will be back to write short, stupid and unfunny posts like this one.

In other news, I am physically and mentally torturing myself right now by watching Teen Mom on MTV.  Farrah is a huge cunt face, Amber is certifiably a nut job, and Catelynn and Maci are somewhat tolerable.  I can't tell you why I watch this piece of shit show but it's like a train wreck.  Maybe these bitches should just give me their babies and when they ask why they were adopted, I can just show them some footage of the show.

The End.

GAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

The last thing you need to read right now is another rant about pregnant people's fucking FB comments.

Well too bad.  Deal with it.  Dick.

I have, oh, I don't know, about 2 thousand friends on facebook that are pregnant.  Ok, ok, I'm exaggerating.  But there are alot.  Like alot-alot.  I'm in an area of the country where women try to poop out as many kids as they can in their lifetime.  It's not uncommon for people to have 4, 5, 6 or even more kids in my neck of the woods.  So pretty much everyone my age is pregnant.  With like their 4th kid.

Luckily my real life friends are too self-centered and alcoholic to be those kind of moms, but my FB friends are NOT.  They go to church and watch the news and read Rachael Ray magazines.

But I digress.  I just think when the time comes for me to be pregnant, I would never post something like "Yay!  Week 18!  Grow baby grow!!"

Sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I might say stuff like "It's about fucking time Universe! WTF mate?"
Or possibly "I'm finally pregnant bitches, bring on the gifts!  (and the cake!)"
Maybe I'll just be the TMI girl who says stuff like "Haven't pooped in 5 days.  Thanks hormones!"

You want to be my FB friend now don't you?

I'd better not... I have what doctors call a little bit of an "anxiety problem."

I get anxious.

A lot.

Not like worried that I'm going to be late for an appointment, but that I'm going to crash my car into the cement side wall on the way, killing 7 and injuring myself.  Then I picture the funerals and what I would do or say and how I would defend myself at an involuntary manslaughter trial.

These irrational, illogical thoughts occupy my mind every day.  Especially when I try to go to sleep at night.  That's when the really fucked up thinking happens.  It involves death and rape and destruction of myself and my family. 

Then I get up to check the locks.  One. More. Time.

I finally decided to talk to my doctor about it because it would be really nice not to worry about getting raped in my bed as I'm falling asleep at night.  Only my regular lady parts doctor couldn't see me for weeks, so I decided to call a family practice clinic near my house.  I've never been to this clinic.  Clearly, they have issues with people showing up and asking them for hard core fucking narcotics and xan.ax or something.

They really thought I was just trying to get drugs out of them.

It ended with the doctor giving me a prescription for an anti-depressant and a card for a clinical psychologist.

Bitch.

I guess I am crazy.  Add 1 more reason to the list of why I should start using illegal drugs.

Hiatus

We have been toying with the idea of visiting Hubs's cousin in Oregon all summer long.  We were finally able to make it this weekend and let me say

1 - Oregon is AH-MAZ-ING!  I love it every time I go.
2 - I failed at ICLW but I swear I will make it up to you guys and comment my guts out over the next few days.
3 - I love coming home after a trip.  It feels so comfortable and fulfilling. 

While on the trip, I confided in the cousin about "The IF" and I got one of these:

"You need to just stop being so negative and stop obsessing about it."

Don't you just love that?  I pretty much brush shit like that off because I know (most) people mean well.  Instead of punching screaming at her, I proceeded to tell her my cocaine plan and then we pretty much never talked about it again.

Besides that, it was an epic weekend.  I peed in the Deschutes River a couple times, drank some Oregonian beer and vodka, let my kid play outdoors for 4 days straight, and ate like a queen.

Oh yeah and I was ovulating so that was another adventure in babymaking while being a guest in someone's house.  Only this time we didn't have a room.  Just a couch bed. 

Shoulda Coulda Woulda

When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend on and off for pretty much all of it.  We'd break up every few months, mostly because he had been my only boyfriend and even though I loved him, I knew that it wasn't realistic that we would stay together forever and I didn't want to spend my prime dating years NOT DATING.

At the time, I was still confused about what religion meant in my life and if I even really believed in any of it.  I was going to a Christian church and the big push was "True Love Waits."  They even had commitment ceremonies with your parents where you wore a wedding ring on your left hand that said that and the promise was that you would wait until you got married before having sex.

Uh huh.

Well the good news is that it worked on me for about 2 years.   My boyfriend and I held off on (most) things and were pretty good kids really.

And then we broke up.  For real.

So THIS, ladies, THIS is the time that I felt it might be appropriate to have S-E-X for the first time.  Oh no, not during the 2 fucking years that we were actually TOGETHER.  He was even dating another girl already.  What the hell?

I mean seriously, I could have been banging my little brains out all during high school with a boy that I LOVED, and instead I waited til we broke up.


This is how I feel about getting pregnant.  I had my son when I was 25 so I guess I spent some of my prime fertile years having A baby, but the rest of the time I spent trying NOT to get pregnant.... WASTED.

It's like rain on your wedding day.  Or 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife.

OH OH OH OH OH, The Right Stuff

For those of you born in the 80's or even the 90's (gasp!) that title is a reference to the New Kids on the Block.  They were the shit back in my day.  First concert I ever went to and my dad and step mom took me.  I think I was in 5th grade.  I might have cried a little.  Here's a picture just for fun.  (The crazy haired dude on the bottom is Jordan and I'm pretty sure he was the source of endless teenage fantasies.)

Anyway, my point is that I started singing that song to myself in the mirror this morning when I saw my boobs in my new bra.  My god.  It's fantastic!

I buy bras from that really expensive pink place in the mall.  You know the one where bras cost like 50 bucks?  Well, I think the last time I bought a new bra from them was like 2 years ago.  Since that time I've gained and lost some weight, gained and lost a job, and ignored the fact that the straps are discolored and falling apart.  Mostly because when you have an extra 50 bucks, the last thing you want to spend it on is A BRA.

The horror of someone measuring your ta-ta's and forcing you to try on new ones keeps you from the store as long as possible.  Sure, I've bought some other cheaper ones to get me by, but nothing compares to the expensive pink ones.  It's hard to go back to generics after you have had your boobs fit into a comfy bra like a baseball glove. 

You totally just imagined boobs in a baseball glove didn't you?  Dirty bird.

I stood in the mirror, marveling at my magnificent breasts and how wearing the right bra sure makes my chest look bigger and my waist look smaller.  And then, naturally, I thought about how exactly I was going to blog about bras and boobs today.

Oh yeah, and I'm trying to keep my mind off of my cyyyyyyccccclllllleeeee (gag!  so sick of my cycle) and my OOOOOOOO day and spermination.  I don't even know what cyyyyyyccccclllllleeeee day I am today.  Isn't that great? 

Randoms

Some days at about 10:30 pm, like right now, I. Am. Done.

With the day.  I can't stand anyone talking to me.  I can't stand my child throwing fits or whining about going to bed.  All I want to do is sit on the couch, watch The Office and drink a beer or two.  Everyone else can just go to hell at that point.  God bless you Michael Scott and the whole nine Nards.

Next, in the last month or so, I have heard 3 different ladies talk about having orgasms in their sleep.  Fuckingexcuseme?  How is that even possible and how do I sign up for that?  Lucky bitches.  (Shakes fist at Mother Nature.)

Finally, it's ICLW time again and I am glad you made it over to my blog.  I have only been at this for a few months (blogging, not humping profusely for spawn.)  If you'd like to check out my first ICLW post, click here.  It's way more entertaining than this random post.

I'll Give YOU a Tip

There's a frozen yogurt place by my house.  It's delightful.  You pick your yogurt, fill your cup yourself and then add as many toppings as you like.  My favorite is original tangy yogurt with heath bar and strawberries.  My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

So, YOU get your own yogurt, YOU add the toppings, and YOU take it to the scale at the cash register.  Then THEY make you give them money for it.  Fine, whatever.  Nice customer service but at least I can add as much delicious buttery toffee as I want to, right?  But then, right there on the counter....

is a TIP jar.

Um, fuckingexcuseme???  I do all the work and I'm supposed to give you a god damn tip?  Where in anyone's any size, any logic, any anything brain does that make a lick of sense?  (I said lick.)  I think THEY should give ME a tip just for doing all their work for them and paying them $5.

Another Day

So another birthday party last night.  It was fun and great and super laughy and all.

A friend of mine tried for 7 years to get pregnant with her 2nd child.  She was luckily successful last year and now has a 7 week old baby.  She brought her to dinner.  Everyone was passing the baby around and cooing and kissing her.  It was very sweet.

And so so sad.

I am so happy for this friend of mine, OBVIOUSLY.  I just had the slightest twinge of jealousy, which doesn't usually happen to me.  I most often find myself cooing along with the others, making funny faces and breathing in that delicious baby smell.

I'm not sure why I was struggling.  Maybe it was because I wasn't feeling well and didn't have the energy to be positive.  Maybe it was because I'm (still) on my period, which is like cycle 30-something.

Or maybe I'm turning into a bitter old hag who can't be trusted around small children.  I'll be the friend who you're afraid to let hold your baby because I might caress it Lenny-style or put it in my trunk and run away with it.


On the optimistic side of not being pregnant, the sushi was divine.

Reasons I Should Starting Doing Cocaine

Last night I was hanging out with a bunch of girlfriends for a birthday party.  I looked around the room and realized that I am, by far, the fattest of all my friends.  I am a size 12 and don't normally look at myself in the mirror with disgust.  But my friends are like fucking models.  Seriously.  There were like 12 of us and the closest 2nd was probably a size 6.

So I left that party to join a different party with my normal sized friends.  We were discussing how there are so many skinny bitches in the world and why we aren't one of them.  We have concluded that skinny bitches

A - don't eat, and
B - use cocaine

Oh blah blah blah if you're skinny and you're like, "I eat like a fucking horse and I have never ever touched cocaine.  I just have good metabolism!"  I'm super happy for you.

Next, I thought of all the drug addicts out there and how they seem to have no problems getting pregnant.  So HELLO reason #2!  Cocaine is looking pretty good now ain't it?

Finally, today I suffered through an allergy test because I have chronic sinusitis and recurrent sinus infections so I was wondering if maybe I have allergies.  Well, guess what Mother Nature, you win again!  I am not allergic to ANYTHING.  My sinuses are just fucked up.  Maybe if I snort some coke it'll help with that situation too.  I mean it couldn't really get any worse.

Dear everyone, I'm just kidding.  I don't do drugs and I'm not going to start.  And I'm really glad you're skinny and eat salads for lunch every day.

Because I Said So

For the love of everything holy, please go to this website and watch this video.  If you don't come back to my blog, I will know that you died laughing.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Might as Well be a 900 Number

I called my doctor yesterday to discuss the next steps.  As I've said before, he wants me to take a 2 month break from meds and we had discussed possibly doing a laparoscopy.  So they said I could do a phone follow-up rather than coming in to the office for one.  The call lasted 24 minutes and since it's still considered a follow up, I will have to pay the $60 copay and my insurance will have to pay, oh I don't know, like, their 1st QUARTER REVENUES.

Damn, doctors are greedy bastards.

Anyway, we decided against the lap (woo hoo!) and I am just going to give them a call after this cycle and talk about possibly trying femara and fsh.

Or my acupuncturist is going to prove that those old Asian dudes really knew what they were talking about for the past 3000 years.  That would be fun.

Oh yeah and my RE is Asian.  So that would be double fun.

I feel like these statements might be borderline racist or something.

But they're not, fuckers  Stop being so damn sensitive.

How I Make My Life More Difficult Than it Needs to Be

You know how I told you I'm lucky and get to work part time?  Well today I have gone ahead and made my life more difficult for myself.  I'm a fucking idiot.

I have been considering going to nursing school for the past couple of years.  I have put it off a number of times thinking I would have a newborn by yester-year.  About a year ago, I applied for a phlebotomy training program through the local big hospital system.  It's an entry level job and it doesn't pay DICK but since I have been an accountant for the past decade, I figured I would have to start somewhere.

So kinda forgot about this job til they called me last month for an interview.  I figured I might as well check it out and long story short, I got the f-ing job.  I say f-ing job because now I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO.  It pays so little that I can't afford to quit my other part time job (which also has benefits.)

So I have decided to do both.  What the fuck?

I just can't seem to turn it down because like a GAZILLION people applied for it (ok 525 people) and only TEN were hired.  The company is willing to let me be on call and only work 12 hours a pay period after the initial training period.

The problem is the initial training period is 40 hours a week for 6 weeks.

So now I have committed to doing the training program and still working my other job, which is 24 hours a week.

How will I ever do this you ask?

Ummmm yeah, OBVIOUSLY I have no fucking clue.

I keep telling myself that it's only 6 weeks and then I will have a job in the medical field to get my feet wet and a toe in the door.  If I decide to switch eventually they offer benefits for 24 hours a week including tuition reimbursement.

But then I also keep telling myself that I'm going to want to shoot myself in the eye after 3 days of this.

So, in true BU fashion, I keep over-analyzing it.  I'm an accountant, what can I say?

Er, fuck, I'm a phlebotomist or something.

Advice?

How Your Vagina Sometimes Fails You

Here's what I don't understand. 

Why is it that just because I have a vagina, I am responsible for keeping my family's underwear clean?

We have this fancy shmancy clothes hamper that has 2 separate compartments, one for lights and one for darks.  It's supposed to make the whole laundry thing easy peasy one two threesy.  Well take a look:

Yes, my husband's dirty clothes are on the floor right next to the hamper.  This is a very small pile of dirty clothes.  It gets much, much bigger.  I gave up on asking him to put the clothes in the hamper a long time ago.  I'm not quite sure why it's such a difficult concept, but apparently it's similar to trying to get me to give a blow job.*

And yeah I know that I could just stop doing his laundry, but believe me I've tried this little reverse psychology gem before and you know what it got me?  A big old charge to my debit card when my husband went out to buy all new socks and underwear when his were all dirty.  Not to mention the guilty conscience of smugly separating my laundry from his.  Although with that method, his clothes actually ended up in the hamper instead of next to it.

And then there's my son.  He's six and although he's been potty trained for a few years now, he still doesn't quite see the importance of wiping his ass thoroughly (or at all.)  I started making him take a bath every time he took a dump and didn't wipe, but that didn't work and it just created a bigger mess for me to clean up.  So then I bought those grown-up baby wipes that you can leave in the bathroom for him to try so wiping would be more convenient for him.  That seems to work about half the time but I still have the lovely chore of washing his underoos in hot water with bleach every time.

Well, PMS is going great for me this month.  As you can plainly see. 


* Maybe I should try a surprise BJ to get new carpet?

Hope Floats

Thank you kind ladies for the replies to my last post. I cried over a couple of them. :)

They will try more Clomid or Femara or even injectibles, but they want me to take 2 months off to steady my hormones. Also, I've started acupuncture and my acupuncturist wants me to try some herbs for the 2 month break, so I figure that is worth a try. Also, my insurance doesn't cover any fertility meds so figuring that part out is a challenge too.

Of course I will keep you all posted because I tell you people everything!  

Surrender

It's an interesting time for me when I get to the end of my rope. There it is, staring me in the face, and yet, so far, I've always been able to will just a few more inches out of it. Yes, I am sick to death of thinking about my eggs and sperm and what day it is in the cycle, but my mind still can't wrap itself around the fact that I will not have another child someday. I think it's because every beat of my heart tells my head that it's not true. (Maybe they could get a conference call going with my uterus.)

Well, today is different. I've somehow hurt my back and I've been in pain for well over a week now. I'm trying to give up sugar for a couple weeks so I have a protesting headache because my addiction hasn't been fed. And the negative pregnancy test is the icing on the cake. It's the last of my Clomid cycles and my doctor wants me to take a 2 month break from fertility meds to let my body get back to normal.

I don't know what's next.

Versatile Blogger Award

Oak at The Elusive Embryo was kind enough to nominate me for the Versatile Blogger Award. If you haven't seen her blog, you should check it out because she is hilarious!

For this award, here’s what you do:

1. Thank whoever gave you the award.
2. Tell 7 things about yourself that readers may not know.
3. Pay it forward by nominating 10 bloggers you’ve recently discovered.


As if you didn't know enough about me already, here are 7 zany facts about my life:

1 - 3 years ago I had heart surgery for 2 holes in my septum. Weird right? My heart was actually broken. They said I was lucky during my son's birth that I didn't have a stroke because that is often when they discover someone has a hole in their heart. Also, the surgery was outpatient and done through a catheter in my femoral vein. Amazing isn't it?

2 - I've had a little girl's name picked out since I was 13 years old. My husband hated it at first, but with the threat of physical violence gentle persuasion, he has come around to see that once again, I am right and the name is awesome. Now all we need is the little girl.

3 - My parents divorced when I was around 3 and each were remarried. They have since divorced their 2nd spouses and now live together again. It's odd but cool I guess.

4 - My son scored in the 99th percentile in national testing at school this year. :)

5 - I have a mad sweet tooth. It's borderline ridiculous. I try to keep it in check, but if there is a dessert or candy anywhere in a 3 mile radius, I can't stop my hand from putting it in my mouth.

6 - I see dead people.

7 - Last year I dislocated and broke my hand when I tripped and fell while running. Yes running. I'm not normally that ungraceful but I'm not normally that graceful either.

So here they are, my 10 nominees! Have fun ladies!

Pundelina Kafoops Lives Here
An Unwanted Path
Tears Are For Babies
MoJo Working
If It Weren't For Bad Luck, We Would Have No Luck
Parenthood For Me
Brownies and Onion Dip
The Daily Miracle
The Rocky Road to Motherhood
This Little Life of Mine

Sweaty Big Stuff

So you know how there's that phrase, "don't sweat the small stuff?" (that's what she said.)

Well I fucking hate that phrase.

What does it even mean? Because there's some small stuff that feels like pretty big stuff when it actually happens to you.

I will generously provide you with some examples:

- When you just went to the bathroom (#2) and you look over to notice that there is no toilet paper on the roll. No toilet paper? Small stuff. Running to the hallway (or worse, the next stall) to get more toilet paper with your pants around your ankles? Sweaty big stuff.

- Smudging your pedicure right after you get it. Smudged toenail? Small stuff. Your nerves after you just spent an hour saying "what?" and trying to make out what the nail technician just said to you, besides calling you honey. Not to mention the 40 dollars you just spent to have a flower painted on as well, and the fact that you have no strawberry red in your polish collection to fix it? Sweaty big stuff.


But seriously, in life, there's a point when the small stuff you just spent a good amount of time NOT sweating becomes the big stuff. Like the big, mean, resentful big stuff.

It all started when I read this post. So I guess you could say I blame Aunt Becky for making me sweat (but in a good way.)

You see, Hubs is quite the workaholic. He typically logs about 70-80 hours per week, and although that affords me to only work part-time, which is great, it does leave me a little bit lonely (and angry) sometimes. But I've pretty much told myself to just be grateful for his hard work and to enjoy working only 21 hours a week.

If there's something I really want to do, like a pilates class or getting a drink with my girls, Hubs tries hard to accommodate, but it involves a lot of coordinating and nagging reminding on my part to get him somewhere.

We do, however, spend one ENTIRE weekend a month at his parent's house. You see, they have a ranch and Hubs enjoys the cowboy life. We spent the past 4 days there and he was in the fields from sun-up to sun-down every day.

On our way home, I was thinking about what I am passionate about and why in the world we never spend an entire weekend doing it. And it made me realize that the small stuff is turning into a large mountain and I am starting to sweat it. So I talked to the Hubs about it.

He was surprisingly receptive to the conversation and asked me what it is I'd like to spend a weekend doing.

Naturally, the answer was taking a god damn vacation.

I love traveling and we have done very little of it since we've been married. So we planned a trip! Well, not a real trip because now we have to come up with some money to actually take a trip, but there are 3 Caribbean islands I've always wanted to go to and I found a cruise that goes to ALL 3 plus Belize and Cozumel.

Doesn't that sound amazing?

Eat and drink all night and then wake up to spend the day on a new tropical beach.

Now... now I have to sweat the how to get the money portion of the vacation, but that is something I'm willing to put some sweat into.

Jealousy

Do you have a friend that gets everything she wants? You know the one, you love her and would probably die for her, but sometimes you look at her life and wonder how everything comes so damn easily to her?

My bestie is that girl. She's an only child so even in college I was jealous of her situation. Her parents bought her a car and footed her tuition and books. I think she had to pay her cell phone bill and that was only because her parents thought it was utterly ridiculous that 19 year old college students would need a cell phone. (I'm old ok? This was a long time ago, way way before 8 year olds had them.)

Fast forward to post college. She decided to move to Florida for a couple of years and met her wonderful, perfect husband. He's so great. He vacuums, girls. Vacuums. She got an amazing 6 figure job as a sales person in the sport she loves. They got a beautiful house, sold it, and then bought a bigger more beautiful house. Also, I should note that she is tall and beautiful and has a killer body. And last year, she found out she was accidentally pregnant. Accidentally. Like such an accident that she was actually upset that she was pregnant and it was going to change her life.

Now I love her dearly, but that was a little hard to take. She complained. A lot.

This is not to say that said bestie hasn't worked hard. She is extremely intelligent, worked very, very hard in college and went back to get her MBA. She eats healthier than any person I've ever seen and works out several times a week. She's totally great at her job and even though she was scared of her life changing, she is an excellent mother and just loves her little girl (and her husband) to pieces. So, it's not that she doesn't deserve any of these things, because she totally does.

It's just, sometimes, I wonder... how is it so easy for her? Or is it just as hard for her, but she just complains a lot less than me?

I Win Again

Sometimes when I'm angry and I know it's irrational, I'll make this weird, high pitched voice and yell out "I'M ANGRY!" It always makes me laugh at myself so then I get over my unwarranted anger.

Ok sometimes it makes me get over it but usually I still want to stab somebody in the eye.

So one day the Hubs and I were having a fight. This one was totally legit though. I think. Well, I can't really remember but I'm pretty sure I was right and he was wrong. But anyway it was like 2 in the morning or something ridiculous like that. Hubs was tired and sick of fighting but I was on a roll about how awesome I am. I think I was still talking when I noticed Hubs was snoring.

This was not the first time this has happened either. I know right? How did I keep from punching him in the face? I think I went to sleep too.

I told my friend about it the next day and she told me that happened to her once so she took a sharpie and wrote "ASSHOLE" across her husband's back. She felt instantly better.

Great idea I thought! So the next time we were fighting and Hubs fell asleep, I decided to try the new trick only I wrote on Hubs's forehead. I didn't write "ASSHOLE" (because my friend is now divorced.) I wrote "I'M SLEEPY."

I did feel a lot better until Hubs woke up during the Y in SLEEPY. He was mad all over again and we started fighting.

I just went to sleep.

Don't Read This Post (or my blog) if You Are Easily Offended

Do you ever amuse yourself without any prompting whatsoever?

I'm not talking about masturbation. That's for a different post. Or seven.

What I'm referring to is how sometimes I will just be thinking about something I found funny, or something I think could possibly be funny in the future and I will start laughing out loud to myself.

People must think I'm crazy.

Like sometimes I think it would be really funny to have a baby shower at a bar. Not like a for real baby shower, but one that is staged so that everyone else in the bar thinks I have no class and possibly a mental illness. I can just picture myself at the bar with balloons around the tables that say "It's a Girl!" and then people are sending me fake shots of sprite and grenadine (pink.)

I can literally have fantasies like this in my head all day long and giggle to myself about what a comical genius I am.

Maybe. I. Am. Crazy.

Boner of a Lonely Heart

Don't you think that song sounds like that? (Owner of a lonely heart = boner of a lonely heart to me.)

Anyway, just needed a clever way to put the word "boner" in my title because this post is obviously going to be about sex. Lots and lots of sex.

I read some posts about husbands who have a hard time (pun intended) getting things going in the bedroom on demand. I guess the pressure of baby making doesn't put them in the mood or something.

Well not my husband.

We would do it twice a day if I wanted to (which I don't.) He seriously has the sex drive of an 18 year old. I, however, have the sex drive of a woman who's been seriously trying to make a baby for 3 years.

It makes for some interesting nights and some really fun acting on my part. :)

Aww Love

So my friend's wedding was last night and it was glorious. I just love weddings. Especially when I know the people getting married are truly meant to be, and my friend and her husband really are. I cried a good deal and drank too much but it was still fun.

Until the middle of the night when I started puking my guts out. At first I just thought it was the vodka, but after the 5th trip to the toilet to throw up, I started getting really bad stomach cramps so now I'm thinking it was something I ate rather than drank.

Oh yeah and I'm ovulating.

So here we are in this beautiful hotel, I've brought along a sexy nightie and some sperm-friendly lube and I'm getting out of bed every couple hours to vomit. Super hot right? So after puke #4, I brushed my teeth and threw some gum in my mouth and tried to get Hubs in the mood. I thought it would be difficult because he had just heard me yak for 8 hours straight, but he was a trooper.

Oh yeah and it was a full moon.

So if I get pregnant, my conception memory will be my friend's wedding, a full moon and way more vomit than I originally counted on.

For now, I'm stuck on the couch for the day and still feeling yucky. Thank goodness I have all of these delicious blogs to read!

Well Hello Smiley Face

Well, I was right. Today I woke up to this:

(For my non fertility challenged friends, this is a positive OPK which means that I am ovulating on my own within the next 36 hours which screws the pooch on the whole timing for my IUI.)

So the whole IUI plan has been thrown for a loop. They said we can come in tomorrow for it but since my only large follicle yesterday was only at 17 mm, I am not feeling confident about the whole thing.

So we canceled it.

I feel ok about it. I feel like maybe my old pal Mother Nature is trying to give me a little hint, like "Hey idiot, I'm the one in charge here so back the fuck off." So I'm listening to her, not doing the trigger shot and just doing "timed intercourse" this weekend.

P.S. Don't you hate the term "timed intercourse?" It's so.... so.... I don't know, clinical or something.

It All Depends on my Ovaries

So this weekend is one of my best friend's wedding. She lives in a different state than me but is having her wedding here because her family is here. So I've been trying to spend a ridiculous amount of time with her because I love her face and I only get to see it once or twice a year. Her wedding is taking place at a resort location about an hour from my house Saturday night so Hubs and I decided to book a room at the resort so that we can drink ridiculous amounts of alcohol and have hotel room sex.

But before we could make the decision about staying overnight, we had to get the old ovaries checked out. Remember how I said it felt like I had some bowling balls moving around in there, well I sure found out why.

I have 18 follicles.

18.

Yes, you read that right. 18 frickin follicles.

Unfortunately, only 1 is good sized at 17 mm, and the next closest is only at 10 mm, but the other 16(!) are pretty small and totally why I feel like my insides are going to explode. So they told me to trigger Sunday night and we will go in for the IUI Tuesday morning.

I'm slightly concerned about the plan because Tuesday will be day 17 and I don't normally ovulate that late. They said to continue with OPK's this weekend and if I get a positive before the trigger to call them.

So we'll see.