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.

Do These Ovaries Make Me Look Fat?

ICLW-er's, please see previous post.

I read somewhere that your ovaries are the size of almonds. Almonds. That seems really small to me. Mostly because I've seen my ovaries on a 32 inch plasma and they seemed bigger than almonds on there. Also, because of the joyous Clomid, mine are swollen and they hurt.

Ok, well, I'm not a doctor but I play one on the Internet, so I don't actually KNOW if my ovaries are swollen but they sure feel like it. Every time I move I feel like I have some fucking bowling balls (ok maybe like really heavy tennis balls) moving around in there. It's uncomfortable.

Tomorrow is "jam a probe inside you" day so I will see what they have to say about my baby makers. Hopefully they're just doing some crazy baby making.

After this, I either get a baby belly or a 2 month break from drugs and a laparoscopy.

ICLW (Clap Clap Clap)

So I'm an ICLW virgin until today, but I'm really really excited about popping that cherry.

So welcome to my blog. Let me show you around a little...

To my left is the list of all the posts I have written about how fucked up my body is and how no matter how hard I try, I still can't seem to stay pregnant and from time to time, I poop my pants.

You'll also notice that I'm full of sarcasm and I swear an unnatural amount. I love beer and my husband. My kid is really really cute and wants a baby sister NOW.

This month we'll be trying yet another medical intervention, an IUI. I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about Heather the Nurse sticking tubes in my vag, so stay tuned.

Thank you Internet City! (Raises arms in the air with double peace signs...)

Why I Love Children

Bugs: "Mom, is invisible a color?"
Me: "Uh... that's a good question."


Bugs: "Mom, in the 70's, was it black and white?"
Me: "Was what black and white?"
Bugs: "You know, on tv how it's black and white?"
Me: "Oh... no, there were color tv's in the 70's."
Bugs: "Not, NOT tv's.... was it black and white OUTSIDE?"
(He was thinking since old shows are in black and white that the actual world was also black and white.)


I was playing with B (my friend's daughter) and trying to get her to come over to me so I could tickle her.
Me: "B, come here for a second. I have something REALLY REALLY important to tell you."
B: "Is it about Jesus?"
Me: "No, it is not about Jesus."

I'm a City Girl

My husband grew up on a horse and cattle ranch. There are lots and lots of acres, lots and lots of animals, and lots and lots of SHIT.

When I first met Hubs it was super exciting. I had ridden horses a few times as a little girl, but had never even dreamed I would actually own my own horse. While we were dating, Hubs gave me my very own horse for my birthday. Who gets a horse for their birthday I mean honestly??? And from the guy they are dating??

Fast forward a few years when Hubs decides he's had enough of city life and we NEED a house with horse property. He is passionate about horses and really wants his kids to be around them and learn the responsibility of "farm life." Let me first say that I respect that and totally understand where he's coming from. I want my kids to be passionate about some of the things I am, so I can't blame him for wanting the same. AND my son gets all excited to go help dad with the horses. It's really cute.

But my gawd, there is a lot of SHIT in my backyard. And it never fails that horses get out when Hubs is out of town and then I'm back there in my city girl flip-flops fixing fence, plugging my nose, and swearing at how Hubs doesn't clean up shit and placenta (yes placenta! a horse just had a baby.) SICK! I called him and was disgusted and pissed off and wish we could just send the horses to live with the grandparents at the ranch.

My point - have you ever noticed that there are a lot of parents like that?

All they ever do is complain about their children and how their lives are basically ruined because of them. Some people are like that about their marriages too. It's exasperating! Why did they have kids if all they ever want to do is send them to the grandparents house?

Of course I have more than my fair share of complaints, but one thing I never, EVER want to do is make my child feel like he wasn't wanted or that he's somehow made my life WORSE! It makes me tear up just thinking about him feeling like that. So in continuous effort, I try very hard not to complain about my marriage or my children because they are, after all, the greatest most important part of my life.

Why I Love Date Night (It's the Dessert)

Last night, Hubs unexpectedly asked me on a date. I say unexpectedly because he works 70-80 hour weeks so just playing footsie together is usually impossible, let alone an entire evening with a DATE. Of course I said yes, promptly called the babysitter (my mom) and drove my son over to her at sound barrier breaking speed.

We went to dinner and it was lovely. We shared a pitcher of beer and talked about whatever and ate yummy food. Hubs wasn't that hungry so we just got one entree and shared it. So after eating only half a meal, it left ample room for dessert. That's right, dessert.

There's a bakery in my city that's kindof a big deal but I have never been to it. So we went. I walked in and knew I was in trouble. I am really not kidding when I say I was looking through the glass for 10 (ten!) minutes trying to decide what I would get. Finally I decided that it was pretty much impossible to only order one thing.

So I picked three things: a lemon bar, a napolean, and a kiwi-strawberry tarte.



Hubs couldn't resist and was probably hungry again by the time I made my decision, so he also ordered the bread pudding. I got the treats to go so it looked like I wasn't going to eat them in one sitting. The good news is that I didn't like the lemon bar so I didn't eat it. The other treats, however, were devoured quickly. (To be fair to my fat cells, I should tell you that my mom and son had some bites too.)

Maybe I should rethink my theory about how the fertility drugs are making me fat?

Mother Nature Hates Me, Part 2

Part 1 is below, or here.

As suspected, my period started yesterday. With a vengeance. I have always had painful periods, but the last few have been out of control. I figure it's because my hormones are all crazy from the drugs so I haven't worried too much about it. Until yesterday. I was doubled over in pain and it wasn't just because of my uterus, my intestines were also really hurting.

Then last night, Hubs and I were watching one of our favorite shows (The Tudors, have you seen it? It's sooooo good!) Anyway, I was so captivated by the plethora of beautiful men on the screen that I failed to notice that I was leaking all over the couch. I stood up to find a nice size circle of blood on the couch. Awesome. Thanks again Mother f-ing Nature! Haven't you done enough to me lately?

Now on to the good news. I called the doctor's office this morning to discuss why my body is a freak show and if the doctor is considering doing any more checking for endometriosis. Heather the Nurse said that I could come in and we could discuss pursuing that, but that it will require surgery, which I knew. We also discussed trying an IUI this cycle to increase my odds. So that's the new plan!! IUI this cycle and if it doesn't work, we will take a break and check for endo. I know it doesn't sound like good news, but it is to me. It's so nice to be at a clinic where they are actually willing to try new and more aggressive things with me. This time last year my regular ob/gyn wanted to repeat a day 21 progesterone test. I wanted to kill her. (Now that I think about it, she must be friends with that bitch Mother Nature.)

Plan B, er, C, ok maybe D is now in effect!! F you MN!

Mother Nature Hates Me

I really have a lot of respect for nature. I mean, how complicated is just one single cell, let alone a plant or a person or an animal all put together and functioning. During an anatomy class a few years ago, the professor was speaking of the intricacies of the human kidney and how it is formed in a fetus. I remember thinking that it was amazing that any of us were even alive if the mere kidney was so complex.

That being said, when it comes to this human, Mother Nature is a bitch!

I mean come on! Do I really have to have PMS during the very week that I find out I am not pregnant? It's a flawed design if you ask me. I think that you should only get PMS if you ARE pregnant because then at least it would be worth it.

Also, I think if you are infertile that you should automatically be your goal weight. You're infertile? Well GOOD NEWS!! You now have a six pack and a perfect ass. You get to eat whatever you want and wear a bikini anyway. Congratulations!

Instead it's: you're infertile? Oh shit, here's some fertility drugs- they are going to make you crazy, make you pack on a few pounds, and give you such horrible headaches and periods that you would rather die than go for a jog. Don't let the door hit you in the fat ass on your way out.

I propose a truce Mother Nature: give me what I want and I'll stop talking shit about you.

Cry Baby Cry Baby

I'm pretty sure I'm not pregnant. It's only 11 DPO but I can just tell. But that's not the point.

Today was my baby's last day of kindergarten.

I went to his school party and as I was watching him play duck, duck, goose, I was talking to another mom that I have become friends with over the year, and I just starting CRYING. In the classroom! I'm glad my son didn't see.

I just watched him and mourned how quickly it is going by and how he looks like a real kid and not a little kid. I cried because I have been pregnant 3 times since he was born and he still doesn't have a little sister. I cried because the other moms were there with toddlers in tow and pregnant bellies and seemingly no knowledge of what it's like to have their child graduating from kindergarten and being no closer now than we were 3 years ago to having another.

I cried tears for the babies I have longed for and lost and the thought that I may never see another one of my children on his last day of kindergarten, or feel little feet kicking me from inside or the incredible love at first sight when my baby is born. I cried because I feel bad that my perfect, beautiful son doesn't make me feel complete as a mom. Not because he is anything less than phenomenal, but because I thought there would be more by now.

I cried more because I feel defective and alone and misunderstood and depressed and sad and scared and empty. The sadness is palpable and I'll be okay tomorrow but today I am crying, crying, crying for as long as I want to.

Your Boobs What?

Today I shimmied around like a show girl trying to decide if my boobs felt sore or not. Hubs asked me if I thought I could swing a tassel in a circle. I don't think he realized what I was doing, he was just thrilled that I was shaking my money makers in front of him (side note - my boobs have never made me any money. Just wanted to be clear about that.)

Wouldn't it be great to not know exactly what day in your cycle you are? I am keenly aware of how many DPO's I am every day. Each day I am checking for any symptoms (real or imaginary.) So far I have none, but that is beside the point. My actual real point is that I have been trying really, really hard not to think about it every day. I'm getting better at it too. I only thought about it 8 or 9 dozen times today. :)

Fail

So last week, my vagina was taking a nap. Hubs was over it. He was ready to resume good sex life part of the month. And this is the story of how he did NOT get laid.

Hubs, "Do you want to go to bed so we can do it?"

Me, "Babe, you can't just tell me you want to do it and expect me to be instantly turned on. You have to work a little."

Hubs (while rolling his eyes,) "I work ALL DAY."


So then we did not do it.

Mean Girls vs. Nice Girls

When I was in the fourth grade, I decided to grow my bangs out. Now this was right during the horrible bang movement of the 80's and way before the growing out your bang revolution of the 90's. I was innovative. Nobody else was growing out their bangs yet. My mom, who was a part of the 60's and 70's hippie hair movement and had some experience in this field, tried to help me accomplish my goal. She bought me some barrettes and showed me how to part my bangs and pull them back while they were growing. I improvised and also sprayed a ton of hairspray on them to keep them from coming out of the barrettes.

One day at school, I was getting on the bus when a 6th grader approached me and demanded to know why in the world I was growing out my bangs. I stuttered a little and managed to get something out about how I didn't like curling and ratting my bangs. She said flatly, "Well, you look dumb without bangs." Stunned, I came back with a defeated answer of "Well, I look worse with them." I wish I could say that this reply was my way of standing up for myself and telling her how freaking awesome my hair looked and that she could suck it, but sadly, I really didn't think I was pretty either way. As if that wasn't bad enough, this horrible 6th grade girl then DEMANDED that I take my hair out of the barrettes so that she could be the judge of which hair style would make me look less repulsive.

I promptly went home and told my mom to cut my bangs. I don't think I told her why. She tried to convince me that once they were grown out that my hair would look really cute but I didn't believe her. A few years later in junior high, all the girls were growing out their bangs. I didn't dare to try again until I was 18 and in college. I believed for all those years that I looked HORRIBLE without bangs.

It's funny how one mean girl can affect you. I have no idea who that 6th grader was and only had a 4 minute conversation with her, yet it left me with a belief for almost a decade - an opinion that wasn't even true!

Although it's unfortunate that it affected me so poorly, I think it also taught me a lesson... words hurt. Something negative you say to a person can really punish them for a long time without you even realizing it. I'm sure that the horrible 6th grader never thought about me again. (I'm also damn sure she grew her bangs out a couple years later.)

My point is that I believe the positive stuff you say to a person can also have a lasting effect. So to my 4th grade self - you look HOT with or without bangs and my god you are pretty! And to all of you... thanks for your support and willingness to share your stories and positive attitudes with me and for continuously (figuratively) telling me how great my hair looks.

TMI

So I have this little tracker at the bottom of my blog. I swear I don't use it to keep tabs on anyone, I am just curious as to whether anyone gives a shit about what I have to say or if I should just resume talking to myself and not bother to put it out in cyber space.

So one of the features I like about the ticker thing is that if someone finds my blog by way of a google search, it tells me what they were searching for. I've been pleased to see that most searchers find me because they too are struggling with infertility. But not yesterday. Yesterday someone found me by searching for

"horses fucking womens"

Now my memory is not that great, but I'm pretty sure I've never written about THAT! Maybe I should be a little more choosy about how much I use the F word!

Shit Happens

This post is really gross and is about poop. If you don't want to read it, stop now and I will not be offended. I promise.

Seriously, stop reading now if you have a weak stomach.

Last chance. It's pretty disgusting.


So last night I went to my girlfriend's house and she and her husband made bbq'ed pizza (OMG it was delicious!) I held, fed, and played with their sweet baby girl. It was much needed friend/baby time and I loved it.

Between us and another couple that was there, we went through 2 bottles of wine, which was also pretty great. There's nothing like sitting outside in nice weather with your bestie, yummy food, a glass of wine, and a baby on your lap. Afterwords all the girls decided to go see Sex and the City 2, which was super cheesy but I still loved it.

The climax of the evening was when I headed home and halfway there got an unsettling gurgle in my gut. You know the kind where you're pretty sure you are going to have some type of explosion happening at any moment. I continued driving and called hubs to keep me company on the drive and also to distract me from the flurry of activity in my digestive tract. In doing this, I went ahead and missed my exit, adding about 10 more minutes to the drive.

I got the urgent need to GO right as I pulled into my driveway. I wriggled around in my seat and frantically pushed my garage door button. I started breaking a sweat just as I pulled into the garage. I ran into the house and towards my bathroom, and then...

I shit my pants.

We have an exchange student living with us and he was sitting at the kitchen table as I ran by trying to get to the toilet. Hopefully he didn't realize what was happening at that moment.

Why am I telling you this? I'm not sure. It just seems relevant to the shit storm that my life seems to be right now! Also, it's kinda funny that I am 31 and I shit my pants. So hopefully you are laughing right now and not throwing up in your mouth a little.