Baby or Bust

Hey! Hey you!

2005-08-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

What are doing over here? Come hang out with all of the cool people over here!

I HAVE HAD IT WITH BLOGGER! I AM MOVING!

2005-04-09T18:52:00.000-07:00

I am packing the damn moving van. Blogger won't let me post and I will be lucky if this even makes it to my blog! Typepad, here I come! Please join me over yonder so I don't lose track of any of you. As I have said before, you are my sanity, so don't leave me hanging. Oh, and Melissa, I am sincerely worried about you, but I have not been able to post to your site or reach you. Let me know how you are doing please . . . Talk to everyone soon . .

I Was Not Pregnant When . . .

2005-04-08T21:47:00.000-07:00

The radio show I listen to in the mornings had a little discussion yesterday about how pregnant women supposedly have these "moments of psychosis" and become crazy about the smallest thing, almost like a bad bout of PMS. If you had a child and have not had this happen to you, stop cursing me. It is not like I am speaking from experience or anything here. Anyway, as much as I have an aversion to pregnancy-stories, I was captivated by the humor in the callers. Women kept calling in and starting their story, "I was pregnant when . . . " Finish with "I chased my husband around the house with a knife" or "I nearly ran over him in my car when he wouldn't stop at Winchells" type of conversations. So, I am not pouting, but I figured we could have our own conversation. Let's just start each story, "I was NOT pregnant when . . ." Maybe it will make us feel important or something. So, I was not pregnant when I drank a big, fat bottle of wine last night. It was a Firestone Winery Desert Wine and then when I finished, I ate two bowls of ice cream. I was not pregnant when I ordered a Grande Vanilla Latte this morning that was possibly one of the best things I have ever tasted. (okay, so I have not had a coffee in about a month . . ) Lastly, I was not pregnant when I had a dream last night (another bug dream) that this huge, green caterpillar was inching its way across my bed. According to this, it means I am jealous. Hmmm . . what could I possibly be jealous of??

Please Just Tell Me How to Shut Off My Brain Before it Blows Up.

2005-04-04T20:05:00.000-07:00

I had many small epiphanys today, which is really rare for a Monday. If you are looking for some cheery post full of smileys and BFPs, this is not your blog. At least, it isn't your blog today. 1. Why don't I just have sex when I DON'T think I am ovulating and/or fertile? Having sex at the moments I THOUGHT were correct hasn't worked, so why not just do the opposite? Maybe I will get the opposite result?? 2. Maybe I got pregnant so easily before, you know, when I was ON THE PILL and then the month following my stopping of the pill because the pill did something magical to my ovaries. Maybe the synthetic hormones got rid of cysts or some other weird, funky cling-on and made me super fertile woman. 3. Who the hell came up with the term "baby dust"?? When one thinks of baby dust, they might think of Tinkerbell or the funny dust that the tribesman sprinkles on the annoying dead guy's head in "Beetlejuice". . . . I personally do not think of baby dust as something that is going to a) make me feel better about trying to have a baby. b) make me more fertile. c) make me want to sprinkle it on myself or anyone else, for that matter. And when I think of sprinkle, I think cupcakes. Dust is dirty, plain and simple. No offense if you use the term, but why not just say, "Hope you get some really powerful sperm this month" or "hope your uterus is inviting and ready this month". I mean, let's be realistic here. 4. While watching "Grey's Anatomy" last night, I remembered a childhood memory. My Aunt overdosed once every six months or so when I was a kid and my Mom always tried to shelter me from her IVs, medicated comas, and drug-induced hazes that left her strapped to the bed. I remember escaping to the lined windows of the nursery so I could watch the babies. When a thermometer was jabbed in their ass, I smiled. When they put the baby under the "lamp", I cried. And when I was taken away from the window, I actually tried to figure out how long it would be before my crazy Aunt popped too many painkillers so I could go see the babies again. So when you say that you have wanted a baby for as long as you can remember . . . . yeah, me, too. I guess I just didn't realize how long I have actually loved children. As my instructor babbled on tonight about special education, I actually contemplated whether there are rabbits who habitually miscarry or are infertile. What's their secret? Is it something we could learn about in relation to humans? Yeah, I know I sound like I ate some special brownies. I just needed to vent.

Hormone-alicious

2005-04-02T21:01:00.000-08:00

I have only cried six times tonight, although the last bout was during Napoleon Dynamite. Is that healthy? There was something so poetic to me about the music in the end and the teatherball game between friends. Maybe it was just that their hair was so bad. This upcoming week is my last week of work for a while and then I have a track break. This particular break is four weeks long, which I am really looking forward to. Mike and I don't often argue, but his 80 hour weeks composed of student teaching, working fulltime, and trying to be my husband have taken a toll on his sweet disposition. He said today that our recent vacation was not enough and he is exhausted, frayed, and weary. I know this past month of "not knowing" played a part in the tension. Some months just suck more than others. For my final project for my Masters, I had to improve on an element from the educational domains for our school district and show proof of implementation in the classroom. I chose to work on integrating more multicultural elements with my students. (Yeah, like George Bush left me with much time for that, thanks to the "No Child Left Untested" Act.) My students are putting on a play this Friday called "Cora, Who Will Be a Poet." It is a play about the Day of the Dead Celebration in Mexico. (El Dia de los Muertos.) I am sure I will never compare to Jaime, but I honestly think it is going to be damn good. I'm off to find something new to cry about. I hate PMS.

Angels and Devils

2005-04-01T17:56:00.000-08:00

It was harder than I thought it would be. The nurse called Thursday afternoon to let me know the test was negative. We talked for a little while and she clarified a few things for me and we came to a few conclusions together based on my symptoms. Come to find out from her and from the good old internet, one of the first symptoms many women experience in early, EARLY pregnancy is breast soreness. The thoughts are that this comes from a surge of estrogen that your body gets when the cells begin to multiply and form the little guy that will (ideally) attach to your uterine wall. That is when the progesterone comes in and that is when Hcg is produced, thus giving you a positive HPT when the hormone is high enough to be detected. It is very possible that my egg was fertilized and the cells began dividing away and then implantation went awry somehow and . . here I am. I know it seems crazy that I just knew and it wasn't wishful thinking, I swear. I just knew things somehow changed and didn't work out, despite the negatives I kept receiving. We know our bodies, plain and simple. Even if I never would have charted, I would have thought the same. I just wish, more than anything, that I could be looking forward to a new pregnancy and not another month of trying. Yesterday, I had minimal spotting, just as the day before. It was almost nothing, "old blood", as they say. The cramps woke me up at 4 am and as I stood up, blood rushed down my legs. This period has been much more difficult, heavy, and painful than those in the months following my D & C and I am popping Motrin and laying around. My periods aren't normally like this, but I am doing my best to alleviate the discomfort. Tonight it has lessened somewhat and I am beginning to feel better, slowly but surely. My angel for the day came in the form of a pharmacist with no name-tag or I would call her by her name. I went to three pharmacies looking for the fertility sticks to go with my new monitor that arrived while I was on vacation. Apparently everyone in Las Vegas is trying to conceive because they were all out. My last attempt was at the grocery store pharmacy by my house, which I was nervous about going to because sometimes their prices are a little hefty. It turns out they had a box, but the woman behind the counter couldn't get it to scan. She smiled weakly at me and said, "Oh shit, I bet you have spent a lot already, huh?" I nodded, trying to think of ways to avoid the conversation about how much trying to have a baby sucks. She then leaned across the counter and whispered, "Name your price." Now, the box of fertility monitor sticks runs about $50, so I was just shocked. I didn't know what to say. She entered in $5.99 and asked me if that sounded good. I nodded and almost broke down right there in the aisle and then ran out before she could change her mind. Let's just hope this is a sign that things will turn around.

Trying to be Philosophical - Or is it Cynical?

2005-03-30T17:38:00.000-08:00

"To pee or not to pee, that is the question." I decided to pee and wish that I hadn't. Once again, it was negative. Is there another word for negative? False? How about saying it was wrong, all wrong! That's better. I crawled back into bed and laid there thinking This is utter bullshit. My body is like a perfected digital clock. Now it is acting like one of those analog ones made in some obscure foreign country where the minute hand moves forward and then suddenly jumps back. I bit and contorted the top to my pen today into a mangled mess of plastic. My Psych teacher once told me that the bottle was taken away from me too early because I turn pens into funky decorations when I am stressed. I finally laid down the pen and decided to call my doctor. I knew I would reach Nurse Nice, and that was fine. She is always so soft-spoken and kind and wears great shoes. I told her my situation, to which she sounded equally curious and told me to go get my blood drawn. I told her I wanted a Hcg and Progesterone if it was positive (snicker). My doctor is not keen on doing that, so I kind of nicely demanded it and she even agreed it was a good idea, you know, "in case you are not testing positive because of a chemical pregnancy, early pregnancy, or ectopic pregnancy." Great. Thanks. No, I am not worried now or anything. I know she meant no harm, but I might as well add it to my list of "Things to Worry About this Week." I shouldn't worry, but it's a genetic flaw, I think. My Mom followed me to school in her car when I was younger so I wouldn't get kidnapped. So, tomorrow Nurse Nice will call me with some type of news. I think it is unlikely that I ovulated SO late in my cycle that it wouldn't show SOMETHING by now, but what the hell do I know about all of this? An ending thought, why do phlebotomists have to be such, for lack of a better word, pricks? Yes, I am sorry I am your last patient and you want to get home and watch reality television and eat KFC, but this does not mean you need to tie the tourniquet around my arm in such a fashion that will leave a scar and then jab the needle in my vein in a way that seemed like you were out for revenge. And don't try to tell me that my veins are shit, lady. I am a fair-skinned blonde. Crack addicts want my veins. They are beautiful and you know it. Oh yeah, and that medical tape, aka torture-device? Why do you insist on putting it on my arm when it rips all of the hair off and leaves this lovely purple bruise? To leave your war-mark? Bitch. Until tomorrow . . .

Eternity

2005-03-29T19:55:00.000-08:00

I woke up out of a dead sleep this morning with tears streaming down my face and older tears dried and caked all over my jaw and neck. I have never in my life awoke crying and it was very jarring. I remembered my dream as I sat there in the dark, trying to regain my composure. I dreamed there were ants all over our house. They were coming through the vents, they were on the ceiling fan, and they were stinging my legs and the tips of my fingers. I don't know if the dream is what was making me cry, although I think the dream had some relevance (somehow) to my current fears. My symptoms have lessened. My temperature has gone down somewhat. And while I can tell myself that I am going to be okay with whatever happens here, it is almost impossible to get through the day and simply not . . know. It seems that these last few days have brought up some old emotions and some new ones with them. Tonight we walked our dog through the neighborhood and into the park in our community. I was counting the steps until we were in the park area where the lights were dim because I knew I needed to cry. And when the tears came, again, I turned away from Mike, "uh-huh"-ing him, but I took careful notice of the people inside their houses whose backyards faced the park. I could hear a child scream for his father as the car pulled up, a grandmother telling her grandchildren it was time for their homework, and I watched two little girls strain to open up their window upstairs to let the cool air in. I ache so much for children. I know that many of you understand this feeling. Today in class, my students and I read the story called by Demi called "One Grain of Rice". It is an old folktale about a raja that stores his people's rice in his royal storehouses during a time of famine. A young girl named Rani finds some rice grains and returns them to the raja. As a reward, he asks her what she wants. She simply replies that she wants one grain of rice. Just one, and he agrees to double her grain everyday as a addition to her request. Thus, the second day she gets two grains, the third day, four grains, and so on. Basically, she outsmarts the raja and is able to feed all of the starving people. Is it so pathetic and sad that I had to dab my eyes as we read because it made me wonder if I will ever get to the point where my hcg doubles, like Rani's rice? Am I the only person who would see this stupid correlation? Basically, I am just so sad today and I don't exactly know why. Women's intuition? Or maybe the thought that if I am pregnant, it might be a chemical pregnancy again. It is so easy to say you aren't going to think about everything, but then something as meaningless as a children's story can seem to draw you back. I said I was going to test tomorrow. I haven't decided if I will. I am scared. Not so much of being pregnant again and worrying about the possibility of losing the baby, but I am scared that it will be negative. And then I will have lost my hope all over again.

La la la . . .

2005-03-28T06:54:00.000-08:00

I have decided to wait until AT LEAST Wednesday to test again. It is going to be the death of me, so it is your responsibility to keep me occupied. (Okay, it's your CHOICE, but I am begging here.) Talk to me, about anything, like you would talk to the person who is afraid of needles right before they get a big one in the arm. I have choosen Wednesday because that will be CD 33, which will mean I am officially late. I actually consider myself late already because I have been on a 25-27 day cycle, but November and December were 32 day cycles. Is this making sense? And if I get a BFN on Wednesday, does that mean I am out of the game? Allrightie, I have to run to work and see what I can do to keep my mind occupied for the next 12 hours. I will be patiently awaiting your distracting conversation.

Life in Real Time

2005-03-26T23:04:00.000-08:00

I spent my Saturday night watching a Lifetime movie about a 16-year-old who had a baby and gave the boy up for adoption to her high school teacher who battled infertility. I have gone through half a box of kleenex and now I can't sleep. What stinks is that I don't even like Lifetime, but there was nothing else on. Why is it that sometimes you want a break from the whole mind-draining, energy-depleting reproductive talk and all that is on television are EPT commercials, Lifetime movies about infertility, and news that Demi Moore is eight weeks pregnant with her fourth child? It is a conspiracy, I tell ya . . I am going to attempt to catch some Zzzzzz's, plus I don't want to make this post any more boring than it already is. Oh! I also found out today that apparently celebrities have blogs, too. Go figure.

I'm Back!

2005-03-25T15:52:00.000-08:00

Our trip was really wonderful. We got to do a lot of the touristy things I have never done while visiting the Bay Area and we ate some amazingly great food. Our hotel, which I had stayed in about five years ago, is one of the four "Personality Hotels" that are designed by keeping colors in mind of what emotions it can make you feel. Our floor was the "Mind" floor, so it had lots of grays and tans and blues. The hotel also had a meditation/yoga room which I spent some time in the evenings at, trying to just clear my mind of all that pollutes it these days. I will try to post some pictures in the next few days. On the reproductive front, I thought that I would know by now what the hell my body is doing. Let me just say this now, despite of what a fool I will most likely look like in a few days when I discover I am wrong, but I really think I am pregnant. I say this because this is the first time I have had every single symptom (and some other interesting things) that I had in my last pregnancy. Despite trying not to dwell on it over the past few days, I did some calculations on the way back into town today, and if I did ovulate later than I thought, since the OPKs this month were like trying to read Latin, then that could be why I am still testing negative. Observe my chart, if you wish. I think it looks like a textbook, or as close to textbook as you can get, to a triphasic chart. Now, I kind of thought I had O'ed on Day 11. Eh, maybe not, maybe on Day 17, which would either make me 17 DPO or 11 DPO. When previously pregnant, I was so angry that I kept getting negatives because I was convinced I was pregnant. My nipples hurt then and they hurt now. I have felt extremely light-headed over the past few days, too, and I am bloated like a life preserver. I am also currently on CD 28, where my cycles have been running about 25-26 days. So, I am going to hold off if I can until Sunday morning to test again. I am really at peace without whatever happens, I just want to know. The second night we were at the hotel, I discovered that our hotel had wireless internet access, so I (very quietly, while Mike was sleeping) checked your blogs. I am about a day behind now, so I am off to catch-up. Hope everyone is doing well!

"Going to California With an Aching In My Heart" . . (Led Zeppelin!)

2005-03-20T19:39:00.000-08:00

Well, tomorrow is our trip. We are staying in Solvang on Monday and then in San Francisco on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. As much fun as we will have, I keep wondering what on Earth I will do without my computer? I will have to set a few hours aside when we return on Friday to catch up on everyone's blogs. Before I leave, I have to recommend this book to you. I had heard it referenced a few times on other blogs because of how one of the main characters deals with her numerous miscarriages, so I finished it last night. It is called The Time Traveler's Wife. Order it now! What a truly poignant, moving novel . . I encourage all of you to check it out. You'll either love it or hate it. Hope everyone has a great week! I have packed tampons and pregnancy tests. I figure, you just never know!

Monthly Drama

2005-03-19T20:35:00.000-08:00

I have been hesitating about posting this just because I don't really want to think about it any more than I already have. But I have done okay today keeping myself busy, BBQing with my husband and a co-worker of mine who is staying at our house and watching our dear dog when we leave on Monday. So, as you know, my cycle this month is screwed up. At first, I thought it would just be a cycle I didn't ovulate, but I think I did. I was using the OPKs at a different time, and if you read previously, I think I missed the surge. I had a lot of "almost" surges, and then it went away. And for another week of so, I had not even the faintest hint of a test line, so I don't think I ovulated on Day 17, as some of you thought. My dear friend, who found me through the blogging world, but does not have a blog herself (sniffle) said she didn't think you could ovulate without a surge. So, I moved my crosshairs on my chart from Day 17 to Day 11. Now, yes, I had a touch of spotting on Day 17, and when I say a touch, I mean it looked like I accidently dropped a marker on my underwear. It was basically and literally a brown spot. I had a much smaller one on Day 18 in the midst of all of the adundance of creamy CM I have had this month. Ovulatory spotting? Hmm, never spot between periods, so I don't think so. While my temps are still on the up-track, I just don't know. My chest hurts, a lot matter of fact, but I also was stupid enough to play soccer with my kids on Friday without wearing a sports bra. They are sensitive and full, but most likely a fluke I created myself. And this morning, I decided to pee on an evil stick. I used a leftover First Response test from last month. It is still early, as I think I am only 11 dpo, but sometimes the urge is too much to resist. While I did not see a second line within three minutes, I saw the hint of something. I am chalking it up to an evaporation line, because it was not pink, but when turned in the appropriate light, it was noticeable. Just enough of a presence to piss me off, if that makes sense. I googled evaporation lines and by description, I am thinking that has got to be what it is. So, Spring Break has begun here and we leave Monday for San Francisco. We are stopping in Half Moon Bay to see my friend Jenn, who had a baby today. And we are just going to relax. I don't think I am going to test again because I think while the possibility exists that I am pregnant, I just don't want to think about it anymore for the next week. I am due to start my period Wednesday or Thursday, so I am going to try and wait and see. Any thoughts? I'm off to finish a book and settle in for the evening. I will try to post once more before we leave on Monday morning. And I received the e-mail today - my fertility monitor is somewhere in a mail-bin in the Midwest now. Does anyone know if AF comes while I am on vacation, can I start using the monitor on Day 2 or 3 when I return or does it have to be Day 1?

De-virginized, at last!

2005-03-18T16:59:00.000-08:00

I took Vixanne's advice and began searching for a fertility monitor on E-bay. The fertility monitors here in town range from anywhere between $199.00-$220.00 and I was just freaking out a little about having to pay that much, even though in the end it will hopefully save me some extra dough. So, I nervously played the bid war last night. And won! My new fertility monitor will hopefully be here next week. I paid about $100.00 less than the cheapest ones I could find here in town. Now I can officially say: I am no longer the E-Bay Virgin.

2005-03-16T21:12:00.000-08:00

Mmmmm . . . St. Patrick's Day cupcakes. Heaven on Earth . . . . I plan on eating as many as I can eat tonight without getting myself sick.

Are you a little hot under there or is it just me?

2005-03-16T07:07:00.000-08:00

I took my temperature orally this morning and it was 97.34. Just for kicks, you know, since TCOYF (which I have now decided pisses me off) says that sometimes a vaginal temperature is more accurate. Okay . . . I gave it a shot. 98.4. And you if you have seen my charts, you know that is damn high for me. So, either my thermometer is screwy, my temperature is wrong in one of the two places, or I just have a really hot hoo-ha. Or, maybe it is all of the above. Just pass the cupcakes already, this sucks.

Let's Just Say . . .

2005-03-14T16:45:00.000-08:00

Hmmm. A brown smudge. What the hell is a small, brown smudge doing on my new turquoise undies on Day 17? I sat so long in the teacher's bathroom this afternoon, staring at the smudge, that a teacher actually sighed loudly outside the door. Assuming that was my cue, I quickly left the bathroom, went about the rest of my day, and tried to forget the little smudge. So, I have now analyzed this to death already . . but let's just say, for the sake of my daydream, that something is wrong with my thermometer. Believe it or not, I actually thought that earlier this month when my temps stayed so low. The only difference is that I have been sleeping with the windows open so I have been really chilly when I wake up. That and I said forget the Prometrium this month because I could never tell when and if I even ovulated, so it has not been there to push up my temperature. Let's just say . . . knowing my darkest OPK was on Tuesday (the day my dh got his teeth pulled) well, let's assume I ovulated that day or Wednesday because technically, since I used the OPK later in the morning this time, I could have even ovulated on Monday, but most likely not. That would be mean that the earliest I could expect to see implantation spotting, which by the way I have NEVER seen before in my two previous pregnancies, would be . . . . Saturday? Let's just forget the fact that I did not even have sex when I am assuming I may have ovulated. Just play along here. . . . I did use Preseed, you know, and maybe that made this swimmers hang out a little longer or something. (*Important Note: I never spot in between cycles.) Let's just say . . . . that if it were implantation spotting, that would mean that the baby implanted better than before, you know, when I lost the others. Let's just say that, despite my disgustingly-low temps, that progesterone is obviously not a problem and a little embryo will continue to thrive and grow despite the fact that I have not been taking Prometrium this month. Let's just say that it is all going to work out, okay? At least, let's just say it is to make me feel better because all of this B.S. is enough to send me over the edge of sanity to the point of no return. Let's just say that it is not the stress that has jacked my temperatures all up. Umm-heem. So . . . What would you say about all of this?

Don't Tell Your Parents!

2005-03-12T09:50:00.000-08:00

I have been contemplating my frustrations about TTC and wondering how much it really affects everything, as everyone implies. I am tempted to throw out the thermometer next month, buy a fertility monitor that gives me the answer in English and not in line-talk, and then just trying to monitor the CM signs that never coincide with my ovulation anyway. Yeah, I know, I would be just as frustrated then as I am now. I talk to my husband about my feelings pretty regularly, but I usually steer clear of discussing my sex and reproductive life with Mom and Dad. I have been feeling desperate for answers this month, though, so I did the unthinkable and called my Mom, babbling for an hour while blowing my nose, wiping my eyes, and laying upside-down on the couch. My father got an unexpected visit from me last night as I was on my way to have dinner with some friends. I laid in his hammock, next to the statue of Buddha, and tried explaining my heartache to him as he continued cooking his 60s-esque dinner. Here's how it went . . . I told my Mom (nervously) about how I can never monitor my fertility signs by my CM because they don't make sense. I just don't get EWCM. It is ellusive and nonexistent in my vagina. Her response: "Call you doctor! I am 56, still have regular periods, and have been able to tell when I ovulate since I was 13! I get EWCM (she didn't call it that, but I will refrain from telling how she described it) and I get ovulation pain in the same ovary every month, too." Yeah, this made me feel SOOOOO much better. My aging mother knows her f-ing cycle more than I do. When I tried telling my father about how we have been trying now for a while and nothing has happened and that I didn't think I even ovulated this month, he decided to tell me about a Discovery channel special he watched last week about seals and how the scientists have misunderstood their feeding habits for years. Apparently the scientists strapped a camera to this little seal's back and watched his video for 24 hours and it ends up seals are scavengers, which totally surprised these brilliant scientists. Imagine my new frustration. "Dad, where the hell are you going with this? Please?!" My Dad: "Sara, all I am saying is that the doctors don't know everything, just like those scientists didn't know everything. Just stop putting the negative energy out there and creating negative thoughts and it will happen." AAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Technical Difficulties

2005-03-11T07:20:00.000-08:00

For the past two-three months, I have observed my positive OPK on Day 14. Today I awoke and saw the reference line and not even a hint of the test line. So, either I am the new definition of an annovulatory cycle or I missed it. Nice. What a lovely way to end my week. I thought it was just a matter of time before I was pregnant again and now I don't even know if I am ovulating correctly. I have tried posting on several other blog's that have accounts with Blogger and it won't let me post. So, Blogger may be experiencing technical difficulties. Maybe I am just experiencing technical difficulties and it is carrying over into the rest of my life now. Oh yeah, and my husband ate all of my Honey-Nut Cheerios, the milk was expired, and my cell phone battery won't charge. Damnit.

Lines, Lines, Everywhere the lines . . .

2005-03-10T20:47:00.000-08:00

My brain was racked with dreams last night of thousands of pregnancy tests, some with two lines, some with five lines, and others with lines covering every square inch of the control window and the handle. I went through the whole dream walking around, imagining what my child would look like, thinking about how great I felt pregnant. Suddenly, I tripped in my dream and fell, skinning my hands. When I looked up, there on the counter lay the most recent test . . with one, lonely pink line. I woke up in a cold sweat, trying to figure out what just happened. Why are my dreams so bizarre? I thought this week that I would try using my OPKs in the late morning instead of when I first woke up. I read somewhere that your LH surge is highest in mid-morning, so I thought there was a possibility that I was missing it by a day with my last few cycles. Well, not only does sneaking an OPK into the only teacher restroom at work suck, but my lines are NOT getting any darker, as they normally have each month I have used them until now. Two days ago, the lines were almost the same color, so I expected to wake up yesterday with that super-dark test line, but it was almost invisible yesterday and today. I don't know if I missed it or if it has not arrived. I ovulated the past two months on day 14, which would be tomorrow. We'll see . . . Hopefully tomorrow I will wake to those two "get-it-on" lines so I can start waiting. Again.

Rule #243 - Do Not Piss Off the Infertile!

2005-03-08T19:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I am have been a little on edge lately, I'll admit. There are a combination of factors contributing to why I am a little stressed out, and not being able to get pregnant is only one of them. I always manage to *deal* with stress somehow and come out, fists displayed, ready for more. This time, my face looks like one huge pimple. I don't know if it is the new routine of "Hey! Let's take the Prometrium this month, even though we inevitably start our period anyway! Nothing like having EXTRA hormones to kick off Spring, you know!?!" or if it is just good, old-fashioned stress. I look the definition of puberty. Today, I decided to take deep breaths as I picked my husband up at 4pm from having his wisdom teeth pulled. What could possibly stress me out about that? Hmmmmm . . . . stupid me. Apparently the doctors would not put him under until I arrived. (Like he would have driven home on his own anyway, gee.) So I approach the counter, calmly greeted the front-desk receptionist and let her know that I was Mike's ride and they could go ahead and give him the good stuff. I turned my back and grabbed a magazine, ready to get comfy for the wait, when she asked, "Are you Michael's mother? We need to collect his copay." WTF?!?! I know it is only Tuesday and normally I would not completely freak out until at least Thursday, but does the fact that it feels like a Friday count? I asked her very, very calmly, "Do I look like a mother of a 28-year old man?" She uncomfortably shuffled her paperwork and I continued to stare her down. I swear to God if they didn't have one of those glass-window things (most likely made to protect them from people like me) I would have crawled over the counter. Apparently other friends have had to deal with the stupidity of office staff today, too. It should be a crime, I tell ya! To top it all of, this is the first time my dh has ever been put under. Let's just say, we won't be doing this again anytime soon. There was no warning in the paperwork that it can turn men into raging assholes when they wake up. Apparently, anesthesia makes Mike think he can tell me how to drive. No one, and I repeat, no one can tell me how to drive. Not unless you want a good tongue-lashing and a chocolate shake thrown at you. (Yes, I actually did that.) *The one positive . . . I am NOT ovulating today. Sex with crazy-ass, moody bitch and gauze-filled-mouth-man would be SOOO unappealing.

10 Weird Things About My Husband

2005-03-06T18:29:00.000-08:00

*I have made this list in love, even if it seems I am mocking his strangeness. To be fair, please be on the look out for the upcoming "10 Weird Things About Me" post . . . 10. My husband has two toes that are connected on his left foot. In other words, the skin in-between his toes grew together before his was born. I like to call him the winged squirrel. (In our genetic testing, both of us have normal chromosomes, no translocations. It is just one of those things!) 9. If you tell Mike to put together anything (i.e. a piece of furniture, a desk, a BBQ, an entertainment center) he will put it together backwards 10 times out of 10, even with the directions. I have disassembled so many damn pieces of furniture I cannot even count them anymore. 8. He eats approximately 7-10 Granny Smith apples a day. He carries them in his car, in his backpack, and on a rushed-morning, in his pockets. The cashiers at the grocery store keep asking us to bake them a pie. 7. Mike began turning gray when he was seventeen years old. If he didn't dye his hair, he would have that lovely salt-and-pepper look that I actually think is kind of sexy. Considering that he is only 28 years old, I often wonder what he will look like in 10 years. :-) 6. He is the best cook . . ever. I tell him all the time we should open up a restaurant, but he does not seem to think he cooks that great and won't cook for guests. (So I am the only one who REALLY knows that I live with Wolfgang Puck.) 5. Because Mike is finishing up his student teaching, he is currently a waiter at an Italian restaurant here in town. It ends up that Mike has a certain way with elderly women. They e-mail him jokes regularly and make up 50% of his tips, which suprisingly enough, are damn good. (Maybe it is the gray hair!) 4. He has more shoes than I do. We have a separate closet downstairs for his precious collection. 3. He didn't begin talking until the first grade, apparently. His mother died when he was a toddler and being that his father was in his mid-fifties and working all the time, his aunt and female cousins took care of him. (Spoiled him to the point that he didn't HAVE to talk, I think. They didn't know any better, really. He ended up in speech classes until high school.) 2. Mike would rather drive nails through his skull than leave the outgoing message on the answering machine. 1. Back to the fruit thing, even though he is pretty healthy, Mike hates the taste of water. So, he cuts up every piece of fruit you can imagine and puts them in his Aquafina water bottle so his water has taste. (Propel and other flavored waters don't work.) It starts looking like a huge bottle of sangria by the end of the day, but he still drinks it. Strange . . .

Time . . .

2005-03-05T11:12:00.000-08:00

Today is the day I should have delivered my child. Today is my due date. I don't care much for quirky, e-mailed poetry, but a friend just sent this to me and I thought it would be more fitting for me to post it here today instead of being upset that I am not in labor or nursing my newborn child already. This is to all of you, my new friends, the ones who share these raw emotions and feelings of loss with me, the ones who really understand what it is that I go through because you go through it, too. I just want you to know how much I appreciate you, all of you. To realize The value of a sister or brother Ask someone Who doesn't have one. To realize The value of ten years: Ask a newly Divorced couple. To realize The value of four years: Ask a graduate. To realize The value of one year: Ask a student who Has failed a final exam. To realize The value of nine months: Ask a mother who gave birth to a still born. To realize The value of one month: Ask a mother who has Given birth to a premature baby. To realize The value of one week: Ask an editor of a weekly newspaper. To realize The value of one hour: Ask the lovers who are waiting to Meet. To realize The value of one minute: Ask a person Who has missed the train, bus or plane. To realize The value of one-second: Ask a person Who has survived an accident. To realize The value of one millisecond: Ask the person who has Won a silver medal in the Olympics. To realize the value of a friend: Lose one. Time waits For no one. Treasure every moment you have.

That was quick!

2005-03-04T06:54:00.000-08:00

Do you think she just wanted him for his sperm? (Eh . . I am sure she could have had other sperm, don't you think?)

CD 5 Mini-Breakdown

2005-03-02T22:26:00.000-08:00

Since discussing my new thoughts since I found out about Aric, I have been making every attempt to go into each day being more thankful than I did the day before, trying to find the positives in everything, and just attempting to appreciate 'life' more than I had been. Yeah, well, who the hell knew Nevada Reading Week would be this hard? It is the week where guest readers come in and read to the students, where the students participate in all kinds of great reading activities, where Literacy just drips from everything and everyone. (not that it doesn't already, I know.) I hate that people second-guess me all the time and walk on eggshells about pregnancy-related issues and babies around me. But it pisses me off even more because most of the time, they are doing it because they are assuming I will act a certain way, and I AM REALLY DISGUSTED with myself that I always end up playing into their hands. I always end up reacting EXACTLY how I don't want to react and it always catches me totally off guard. Is this making much sense? Today was "Wear A Shirt That You Can Read" Day . . . a shirt with words. Since I didn't have an "Infertility Sucks" or "I'm With the Infertile!" t-shirt, I opted not to participate today. I am such a horrible teacher, I know. That's okay, because everyone else at work apparently already had shirts in mind. Yeah . . . like the librarian . . . her shirt said "Baby on Board". Imagine my attempted smile and shocked expression when she gleefully told me she was 11 1/2 weeks pregnant, with a quiet, "I'm sorry" in between gasps. Imagine it mostly because I thought last week she looked different and I asked her if she was trying to have a baby yet and she said, "NO?!?!?!" And to think she was really pregnant at the time. So, I have time for optimism tomorrow, but add pregnant women WHO LIE on my list on things I hate today.

The Amazing Race . . to Fertility

2005-03-02T07:14:00.002-08:00

I really can't get into the whole reality television bit, but I am totally, thoroughly addicted to "The Amazing Race". The new 'season' started last night, at which point my husband and I camped on the couch for two hours, cursing every commercial, running to pee so we wouldn't miss anything. Here are my hopes . . . there is a couple (Uchenna and Joyce) that announced last night they would use the million dollar prize to hopefully successfully have a child. They have had two failed IVFs and desperately want a baby. Guess who I want to win? As a backup, I would also secretly love Ron and his fiance to win. Ron was the helicopter pilot we all saw so much of on the television when he was captured in Iraq. He looks like a guy I was in love with at summer camp many years ago . . :-D

New Regimen for March

2005-02-28T06:34:00.000-08:00

So, I have made it to March and have spent approximately $55.00 on HPTs, about the same in OPKs, and last night I caved in and bought a $2.99 box of brownies with walnuts as my three month celebratory marker. I am not sure what I am celebrating - maybe that I have not gone insane and given up trying to have a baby yet? I don't know. I do know that the brownies are the breakfast of champions. Here are my plans for March: I recently ran into an old co-worker who had a baby last year and stopped teaching to stay at home. She tried for a while to get pregnant, not incredibly long, but somewhere around a year's time. Her grandmother, an old, small-town nurse, told her, "Vitamin E is what you need! Take two water-soluable vitamin E capsules a day and you will be pregnant within three months!" Needless to say, she was pregnant that next month. I searched and found some interesting info on that here and here. Now, if we just had a dollar for all the times we have heard of the "cure" for infertility, we could have paid for those damn HPTs and OPKs by now. I am going into March, though, with the attitude of, "I'll try anything once." I began the vitamin E regimen last night. I am also ordering pre-seed today, some supposedly-fantastic lubricant that is sperm-friendly. And since EWCM doesn't make monthly appearances around here, might as well try it. Lastly on the March regimen, Mike and I are taking a vacation. Yep, that's right. We are getting the hell out of Dodge for our Spring Break at the end of the month and spending five days in Northern California. All of the talk about Solvang made me crave my days when I would frequent San Francisco for a little shopping and relaxation. So, we are driving through Napa Valley and then making our way to SF afterwards. Mike can shop better than any woman, so it should be fun. Oh! I also am scheduling a pedicure, massage, and facial for this week because I have a week off from my Master's program. (ya-hoo!) I am down to my last two classes, my thesis/ending project, and then I am home free. Anything else I should add to my take-it-easy-and-have-fun-with-it regimen for March? Is anyone else trying anything new this month?

Remembering the Lizard King

2005-02-27T19:58:00.000-08:00

I have been visiting this site, trying to find out some information on my 10 year reunion and get updates on people I went to school with. I talked in a previous post about Mike, not my current-husband-Mike, but a different Mike I dated in high school who died unexpectedly at 18 years old. We began dating when I was a sophomore in high school, but my freshman year, I dated a guy named Aric. Aric was the "older guy", the senior, getting ready to graduate and join the Marines so he could pay for college, the guy that stood out like a sore thumb because of his multi-colored hair, unlaced Doc Martins, and an overall if-you-don't-like-it-fuck-off attitude. I was overflowing with teen angst, so the two of us fit perfectly. Despite going our separate ways when he graduated, we always kept in touch. He got out of the Marines a few years ago. (I used to tell him that if he wore his "Question Authority!" t-shirt to boot camp, they would eat him up. Apparently he didn't listen.) He had met a nice girl and had two children with her. He bought a gorgeous piece of property right outside of Roswell, New Mexico and worked as a small town newspaper editor. Aric's e-mails stopped coming in November, a few months ago, and I wasn't sure why. There wasn't even the random joke or e-mail with his the attached pictures of his children he sent every so often. I continued sending my e-mails to him until a few weeks ago, I got the message returned due to his "mailbox being full." Last night, I read on the site that Aric died on November 6, 2004. I found his wife's number today and called her, talking for a long time. Aric was cutting down an elm tree at their home and the tree fell the wrong direction, killing him instantly. He pushed his wife out of the way before it fell. His children were inside watching Saturday morning cartoons and eating an early lunch. I worked out in the yard today and thought about Aric, the intelligent, gifted, devoted man who loved his family. The man who, not so long ago, was just a young boy who I glorified, who listened to "The Doors", knew everything about Jim Morrison and even called himself "The Lizard King" in comparison. Most of all, I thought about how precious life is and how I am so quick to forget that. This week . . . and for as long as I can continue reminding myself of Aric, I am going to stop and smell the flowers a little more. Like I recently said, a lot of this BS that stresses me out (and stresses many of you out) is so far out of my (our) hands. I am going to really, really try this month to just live in the moment. And enjoy the moment I am living.

Babies 'R Not Us

2005-02-26T19:23:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day my husband has ever been to infertile hell. Mike braved the borders of my very heartache and walked through the magical doors into . . . Babies 'R Us, or as I like to call it . . . . Babies 'R Not Us. I was a little pissed that I had to even go back to the damn store again, but my SIL (Mike's brother's wife) and my friend J are both ready to have their girls. As I was waiting for the registry lists to print, I was cursing myself for not just ordering online and having it shipped. The thing is, I like to wrap gifts. It's a knack, I think. I should be like Will and Grace and have a gift-wrapping room in our house. Here's how our trip went: Mike must have sensed my discomfort with being there, so he tried to make me laugh and loudly said, "Well, I guess this isn't the place to pick up chicks, huh babe?" I just stared at him, gritted my teeth, and asked him to go get a small basket. Mike comes back with a shopping cart. Now, it wasn't the regular grocery-store kind of shopping cart, he brought back the one with the huge, built-in baby-carrier. The teacher in me came out and I just stared at him and then the cart and then back at him. (It works well with 4th graders.) He looked at the ground, nodded, and then took it back and fetched a small, I'm-not-really-shopping-for-myself-because-I-don't-have-children kind of hand-held basket. Much better. As I scanned the lists and began slowing putting items in the basket, I turned around to see that Mike had disappeared. Hmmmm . . . it is not like this is Circuit City and he could have gone to salivate over the new televisions or some other electronic gadget. I shrugged it off and went to wrap up my shopping in the DVD section, searching for one of the Baby Einstein videos. There Mike was, aimlessly walking around the baby clothes section, stopping for a second to touch an infants outfit with a baseball on it and then looking at the small shoes like he had done at the Nike outlet a few weeks ago. When he caught my eye, he smiled, and I realized for second that I am not the only one in this. I suddenly had this overwhelming sense of guilt and I wondered if I was that careless to not think if this whole desire for a child was making him ache as much as it does me. Let's just say we checked out as fast as we could and as we walked outside, I apologized to him. "Why are you apologizing?" he asked me. I told him that I know it was probably inconsiderate of me to take him there and assume he would be allright with it. I told him I should have dropped him off at the Best Buy down the street. He just shook his head and smiled. "Don't worry. I promise you, Sara, we're going to have a baby. I promise . . . " And on the drive home, as we passed the baseball fields where teeball was going on, he began to happily talk about being our children's coach and if we had a girl, they could still play teeball because it would be a good experience. I realized the only difference between the way he feels and the way I feel is that he has a whole lot more optimism that me. He has a better attitude. It is not Babies 'R Not Us, it is Babies 'R Not Us Right Now, But Will Be One Day. I like that name a lot better.

Poetry . . .

2005-02-24T21:14:00.000-08:00

I came home tonight, opening the door to the familiar music my husband was playing on the television, my dog happily dancing around, waiting for her food. I kind of smiled at Mike and went through the motions of getting Chloe's food ready, putting her medication in her bowl, and refilling her water. Mike watched me from the living room and asked what was wrong. I've lost my voice, thanks to this ongoing sinus thing, so I quietly whispered to him reassuringly that I was fine as I tore open the pregnancy test. I walked in a daze to the downstairs bathroom, moving through the motions of positioning the stick and counting to five as I took careful notice of my plant that needed watering and attention. I laid the stick down on the sink and finally took off my shoes and made my way over to Mike, who was still pouting from my entrance. He wanted to get a bite to eat and asked if I wanted to go. I shrugged, but slid my shoes back on and grabbed the test off the sink. For some reason, the poetry in that moment was momentous . . . Mike turned up the Rattle and Hum concert that was on the High-definition channel, the song "Wide Awake" blaring through the surround sound all around me as I looked at the test. One pink line. As I sang the words to myself, Mike quietly took the test from my hand and placed it on the counter. He put his hand in mine and in the dark, with that beautiful, shimmering light from the fish tank throwing shadows on his face, I felt like I was exactly that. Wide Awake.

Chips, anyone?

2005-02-22T13:50:00.000-08:00

Hope flew out the window this morning on her broom, cackling and doing spells on me as she departed. Yes, my oh-so-perfect chart took a nosedive, the sort of nosedive that flips off the coverline on the way down. And don't try to tell me the good stuff about this could be the starting of an implantation dip. It is just a freakin' dip and not the good kind that has five layers with avocado, beans, salsa, sour cream, and plenty of cheese. You really know that the crimson tide is getting ready to grace me with her presence when I can compare my basal temperatures to food.

Apparently, I am doing it all already

2005-02-21T18:08:00.000-08:00

Met today with Dr. Cool Attitude . . . . Basically, after reviewing my history and test results, he said very simply, "You are doing all you can do." I am taking the prescribed medication necessary to combat what "could have been" the problem, although he seems to think, as my regular OB said, that the MTHFR gene was probably not the culprit. My "million dollar bloodwork" shows no other worries and even though my chemical pregnancy was a loss to me, he basically said he still considers me as having only the one miscarriage I had last year. Smiling, he said, "It is great you are being so proactive and trying to prevent this from happening. But if I had every woman in my office that had only had one miscarriage, I would drive four new cars." It was a funny way of putting it, but it made sense. I know in my heart that there is a possibility I may not have anything to worry about. I just want to make sure. Dr. Cool Attitude also said that I can continue on with my regular OB once I do (hopefully) get pregnant again and that if I were to have more difficulties, then he could review other testing options. Suprisingly enough, he said that he is not a big fan of testing for "killer cells" or whether or not my antibodies fight off my dh's sperm or fetal tissue. And based on the OFFICE FULL of pregnant women he had, all discussing their own previous heartaches, I am just hoping against hope that I am one day sitting in their chair. As for now, just as 'Cat' said, I am done worrying about it. Actually, I am more than done. I was so exhausted after leaving his office this morning that I slept in the car as Mike drove us home. It just wears me out, thinking about what could happen and what might happen and what will happen. It is pretty much out of my control. It is easier said than done, but I can't worry anymore about something I can't change. As for my current stats, I am 7 dpo and on cd 21. My chart still looks pretty, but who the hell knows. As Mike said, if this is not our month, we are Irish and always manage to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in style. Maybe green beer and tavern-hopping is the key. *PS . . am I the only one addicted to this Discovery special Birth Day: Live?

Vino Vino Vino!!!

2005-02-20T19:18:00.000-08:00

I went and saw the movie Sideways this afternoon . . . I am thinking the alternate titles they decided against were: 1) Would you like some Wine with your Wine and your Wine? 2) When Bad Friends Happen to Good People 3) It Must Be Cool to Live in Solvang I won't ruin the movie for those of you that have yet to see it, but there is one part that got me thinking. One of the characters has too much too drink after just finding out his x-wife has recently remarried. He excuses himself from the table and does the drunken stroll (don't play like you don't know what stroll that is . . ) to the telephone booth and calls his x-wife, making a fool of himself in the process. When he returns, his friend, who has been trying to get him laid the whole week, says, "Oh no . . . did you drink and dial?" Needless to say, I almost peed my pants. How perfectly put! Someone has beautifully coined a phrase for the thing I used to do! Before I met Mike and after I left T, which we won't discuss again, I drank and dialed my way through every Friday and Saturday night for about 6 months, come to think of it. Whether I was calling the loser UPS man that I dated (he had really nice triceps from lifting! Stop teasing me! Okay, so he had a nice package! Ooops . . freudian slip!) Or calling other random people listed in my cell phone and trying to have philosophical conversations at 3 am from the MGM Grand Parking Lot, I was a habitual drinker/dialer. So . . I turn the question over to you, my friends. Cough it up! Who has also participated in some drinking and dialing behavior? Don't deny it . .

(sniffle) Pass the Chicken Soup, please . . . .

2005-02-18T19:21:00.000-08:00

My chart really is beautiful this month . . . . . Today's temperture was the highest temp I have ever had (at the earliest time) since I began charting a few months ago. I did have those type of temps in December, but I was on vacation and waking up two hours later than I do now. The only let-down in this whole thing is that I still am experiencing the joys of this damn sinus infection and while I don't have a fever persay, I know my temps could very well be elevated because of that. I actually started to think I was getting better last night and what do you know . . . I woke up this morning with the first earache I have ever experienced. Ever. I didn't even know your ears could hurt. When I was pregnant last June, I didn't know I was pregnant at the time I came down with a horrible sinus infection very similar to this one. I made my way to the doctor because we were getting ready to fly to New York to go to a friend's wedding and I was really worried about flying without relieving the pressure in my head first. I actually had them give me a BPT there because I had been feeling really funny. (My boobs were killing me . . . . )It was negative. Come to find out, I was about 12-13 days pregnant or so then. (I conceived on June 2nd, I was at the doctor on June 15th) Of course, all of this brings back memories to my husband, so he has been rejoicing in the fact that I have been so ill these past few days. "Maybe it means you're pregnant again!" I don't think there is much logic to it. It would certainly have to be a coincidence. I caught myself daydreaming today, hoping against all hope that maybe, just maybe, it might not be a coincidence. I guess it doesn't mean that I can't cross my fingers. Again.

New Doctor . . . . New Visitor

2005-02-16T20:56:00.000-08:00

I found a new high-risk OB that handles recurrent miscarriages. I gave up on Dr. Never-Call-Me-Back. I am in love with my regular OB, but he suggested I stay on with a perinatologist until I am 16 weeks (ha!) and then return to him. I cannot even imagine what that would feel like. I have an appointment with the new doc on Monday. I went and located all of the test results, echocardiograms, and genetic testing paperwork to take with me for the consultation. Now that I know more than I did three months ago, I know there are a few things I have not been tested for, which is surprising considering I have given enough blood to resupply the local blood bank. Plus, I just want someone to be really proactive in measuring my Progesterone levels, etc., when and if I do get pregnant again. I was talking to my Mom today about my upcoming appointment and mid-conversation, she told me that my brother's girlfriend reads my blog. I dropped the phone and nearly hit a bus. Huh? Did I send my blog address to my brother in a moment of brief insanity? My Mom has actually looked at it, but she does not frequent the page. She's private and no stranger to loss herself. However, she respects and understands my need to talk about it. So . . Holly, if you are reading this, hi dear. And Happy Birthday. :-) Take no offsense to my bitter moments or my truck-driver mouth. I am really a normal person outside of being fertility-challenged. I swear. (after a few minutes of thinking) Well, okay, I am not normal. But that's okay. Who wants to be normal? You are with my brother, so you must understand that. Ha! Okay, that came out wrong. I love my little brother and now the two of you are a package deal. Despite not having met you, I know we would get along magnificently. Just don't use anything I say here againist me, it is like a "free space" in the universe. Ladies, welcome Holly to the blogging community. She has not actually had my brother's child yet nor is she pregnant, so we can still enjoy her company. (just kidding again . . . ) Glad you are here, Holly. I really am. Does anyone else's family read their blog?

Damn . . . .

2005-02-15T02:10:00.000-08:00

It is 2 am here and my cold has officially turned into sinusitis. My tonsils feel as if they are going to break through the skin and the lovely Shrek-colored snot that continues to flow through my nose is doing wonders to my throat when I try to lay down. I had class tonight and Mike had to work until 1 am, so we had planned to celebrate Valentine's Day tomorrow. (Well, today, now . . . ) I bought us tickets to go and see "The Blue Man Group" this evening since neither one of us has been to a show here. When he got home tonight, there was just no way we were going to be able to get in one more session of TTC sex. With my head and nostril maladies and his extreme exhaustion, he surely would have fallen asleep during the act, caked in the run-off from my nose. Since making the decision, sleep has not come easy, and I don't think it is just because I feel like shit. I have little hope that his sperm survived until today, knowing my luck. I am trying to be optimistic here, but I think we "missed" our window of opportunity. Oh well. I guess there is March. (insert cursing here)

Okay, okay . . . I got it now!

2005-02-14T05:37:00.000-08:00

Thank you to Larissa and Vixanne, who have once again saved the day . . . and my sanity. I need to be reminded that the OPK is GLARINGLY OBVIOUS when it is positive. For me, it cannot be two "similar" lines that mean that I have an LH surge, it is the darkest upon dark of test lines. When that control line fades in comparison to the test line, I know I am good to go. And THAT, my friends, is what I had this morning. How poignant for V-day. However, because I THOUGHT that I was getting ready to ovulate already, we have been faithfully acting like the newlyweds that we are certainly not. Not only do I feel like someone took a brillo pad to my crotch, I am sure he feels like it is going to fall off. This is . . . most likely . . . not going to be our month.

Cursing the OPK yet again

2005-02-13T18:18:00.000-08:00

Did I ever tell you how much I loathe OPKs? (oh yeah, I guess I did.) Just when I think I am understanding the process, I get two positives two days in a row, yet no temperature spike. The only difference between these 2 tests is that the lines were the same color, where as before when I had positives, the test line was always super, super dark. So, I am left wondering if I have already ovulated. I am starting to consider buying a fertility monitor in the hopes that it will make things easier. My sinus infection is in full-swing. I have done nothing but lay around all day, putting off the lesson plans and research paper that I should have completed by now. I took a nap and had a dream that someone had installed cameras in all of my air-conditioning vents throughout the house and when I played back the videos, it played my childhood in fast-forward and then showed Mike and I getting our freak on. Bizarre. With some good news, my friend Yvette recently called. She has been married for 11 years, trying for the majority of those to have a child. Her doctors discovered she had 9 fibroids of varying size growing in her uterus and she had them removed through a lengthy procedure about two years ago. They told her her chances of conceiving were small because she had such severe scar tissue. She called to say she is 13 weeks pregnant. I could not be more happy for her. I'm up for suggestions on the OPK front. Has anyone found the monitor more reliable? What about the saliva microscope?

The Big O (and we're not talking about Ovulation, people!)

2005-02-12T17:22:00.000-08:00

Jenna has started a new site to discuss books. While on the topic of reproductive reading, I wanted to hit on something that I did not discuss in my posting regarding the last book I read in that arena. I want so very badly to get pregnant, but I want more to not do anything, ANYTHING that could jeopardize that child. Sound familar? Bear with me for a minute, here . . . When my friend R had her little boy, which I had the opportunity to be present at, the second that the good doc began sewing her up, he gave me the job of checking her uterus. Don't freak out yet. I was mortified when he first said it, too, but he then just explained that I would need to press on the uterus by means of her stomach and if it changed position, it either meant she needed to urinate or that she was hemorraging. I am not sure how I maintained my composure, but seeing the look on her face was enough for me to press on her belly and hope to God the contracting baseball-shaped organ did not go anywhere. I was blown away by how much the uterus really contracts! It was like she had another baby moving around in there, waiting to shock everyone with his entrance. So . . as I was reading the book recently, that memory came to me when the author was discussing the importance of letting your embryo implant as best as possible. All of the normal things we have heard were mentioned, but when the Big O was came up, I honestly had to close the book and then return to it later. Now, whether or not this doc knows what the hell he is talking about, I don't know. But there is a whole section on how, especially in the beginning of pregnancy, orgasms can make the uterus contract heavily and vibrators should be avoided as not to "knock loose" the newly implanted embryo. Is your face red, too? So . . let's just say, not only are my dh and I having tons of quality TTC sex, I am thinking about the Yankees winning the next world series, I am thinking about anything to keep me from having a big O . . just in case implantation is getting ready to occur. The vibrators are also collecting dust.

2005-02-11T20:28:00.000-08:00

Here is a photo essay entitled: "A Day in the Life of Chloe: A Lazy Dog's Story." This first picture was taken around 9 am.

2005-02-11T20:27:00.000-08:00

. . . and now we have changed blankets and areas of the couch for maximum comfort. It is about 1 pm. We think we may be a cat disguised in a dog's body.

2005-02-11T20:23:00.000-08:00

....We have returned to the original sleeping habitat. Sleep has been so rudely interrupted by the flashing light of a camera. Does she not understand it is now about 7 pm and I have already eaten? There is nothing left to do but sleep. Bug off.

5 Things I SHOULD be happy about

2005-02-11T07:02:00.000-08:00

This week has just plain sucked. I am not going to even butter it up for ya. So, in my efforts to remain positive and all of the other BS that I "should" be doing so I don't jump off the Hoover (thanks, B, for the option) I have made a "5 Things I should be happy about, but am having difficulties doing so - list".) 5. My dog has been diagonosed with high chloesterol. Yeah. Not something to be TOO happy about, but it does explain the sudden spike in growths underneath her fur. Fatty tumors. I am happy because my Sri-Lankan vet (whom I wish had a brother who was a high-risk OB because he is just so freakin' cool) cut me a deal on the medication for her since, you know, I am a teacher and have no money. 4. I started taking Robutussin this week and noticed more cm, which is good. (Now I have a cold, though. Go figure.) 3. I took a OPK this morning and got a very dark positive. (Does not help with the question of why I am getting one on cd 11?!?)My sperm provider also does not get home until after 2am tonight, so I am sure that by then my egg will have taken some alternate course through my reproductive system, got lost, and then just evaporated. 2. It's raining. I love the rain. However, my students do not because then they cannot go outside for recess. Guess who suffers about 2 pm when they have all gone crazy. 1. I put my car in the shop to get fixed from the accident that occured by the fertile woman smoking and talking on a cell phone. (Did I tell you that they loaned me a rental and that the battery died last night because the doors are so heavy, no one could be expected to shut them? Yeah.)

Always seeking the answers that never come . . .

2005-02-08T20:00:00.000-08:00

From The Little Zen Companion: "We are here and it is now. Further than that, all human knowledge is moonshine." -H.L. Mencken "There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so." - William Shakespeare "The more you know the less you understand." -Tao Te Ching "Every exit is an entry somewhere else." -Tom Stoppard

Something we infertiles know a lot about . . .

2005-02-07T16:47:00.000-08:00

A fellow teacher told me about a recent experience with one of his first-graders. As they were coming into the classroom in the morning, he gently asked one of the boys to go and be the doorholder for the rest of the crew. My friend realized, at a distance, that as the line approached the door, there was a sudden traffic jam and they were unable to get inside. All of the children began stepping over something in the doorway. Being a concerned teacher, he rushed over to see if the students were simply trampling over their fellow doorholder, but he was amused to see the young boy sitting in the middle of the doorway, eyes closed, legs crossed, hands-up with his thumb and index finger touching, a very yoga-like position. My friend asked his young student what he was doing in the doorway. The student replied very quietly and simply, "Shh . . I'm medicating!"

Does birth and child-rearing change EVERYTHING?

2005-02-06T18:53:00.000-08:00

I witnessed my first birth when I was 18 years old. My friend R asked if I would join her at the birth of her son. Her mother had died and she had no friends in Nevada, so of course I obliged. It was an amazing experience that ended with the birth of a little boy she named Joey. The second birth I had the opportunity to be present at was for my friend Carol. We went to high school together and I was good friend's with her family. Little Westley was born early, but healthy and beautiful. I was twenty then and I think my parents thought it would make me realize how much it took to have a child. (Hmm . . just made me want my own children more. Not like the "birth control" they expected me to get out of it. Didn't matter anyway . . it would be years until I would get pregnant. And miscarry.) The third birth I was present at was Carol's sister, Kirsten. It was a much harder delivery than the first two I had witnessed, but Kirsten had a healthy little girl. She has since had two more healthy girls. The fourth and last birth I have been present at was for my friend B. I briefly mentioned B in an earlier post. B had a little girl a few years ago, shortly before I met my husband. It was a strange time in my life and as much as I really wanted to be a mother, I had accepted the fact that I might never meet that "man" that I felt was my match. Seeing her daughter's birth was just enough to snap me out of my own little pity party. I spent the next few months yearning to be around little O. I was the first person B let her stay with when they went out. She was (and still is) dear to me. What sucks about the whole thing is that B and I have grown apart so much, or at least that is what I guess I can call it. I honestly have no idea what went wrong, but I have spent many long hours trying to figure it out. It is kind of like . . . . like because I don't have a child, I am not capable of understanding her life or spending the time with her that she wants. She has made a whole new bunch of friends, all through Mommy and Me classes and other playgroups, all with children. It makes me sad. This all leads me to what I pondered today as I attempted to do my grocery-shopping during halftime. (The "let's-get-more-beer crowd was slightly obnoxious, but I managed to not get run over in the parking lot.) I contemplated why it seems that those who have children tend to stick together, just like sometimes those without children do. A child should not "change" the dynamics of a solid friendship. If anything, it makes it more fun. Why is it, then, that when a woman has a child, suddenly she gravitates towards other women that have children of their own? For the sake of playmates? There has got to be a better reason. Any thoughts??

My Child's Future . . (Wait! What child?!?!)

2005-02-05T23:43:00.000-08:00

Fertility Friend is the main site I record my BBT chart data, but I like to throw a wrench in my reproductive-spokes and also chart with the hormonal forecaster. It makes you realize how charting is a whole lot more complicated than it appears because both programs will tell you ovulation came at two different times. Nice. Playing around with the software tonight for hormonal forecaster, I stumbled upon an icon entitled "your child's future". It basically takes the day you should ideally conceive (can you hear my chortling?) and then it lists "possible" dates that could coincide with your child's life. So, here's my child's statistics. (Yeah, you know, the child I have yet to carry to term. That one.) --------------------------- Future Child Extrapolation: --------------------------- Conception: February 15, 2005 Birth Date: November 8, 2005 Starts Kindergarten: August/September 2011 Starts High School (9th grade): August/September 2020 Sixteenth Birthday: November 8, 2021 High School Graduation (Class of 2024): May/June 2024 Reaches Adulthood (18th Birthday): November 8, 2023 Twenty-First Birthday: November 8, 2026 College Graduation (4 year degree): May/June 2028 Get Married: * Around the Year 2030 (if female) Around the Year 2032 (if male) Retirement: * Approximately the Year 2071 Longevity: * Likely will live to see the year 2086 (if female) Likely will live to see the year 2081 (if male) * Estimates Based on Average Statistics in the Year 2002 in the United States. Man, they are so optimistic.

No, we're not losing our mind, we're losing YOUR embryos!

2005-02-05T18:06:00.000-08:00

For all those women who take out a second mortgage on their home, sell their cars, get second jobs, and do all but prostitute themselves for a little reproductive assistance, now they are losing our embryos. WTF?!?!?!?! The only refreshing thing about this article is that the Judge recognized a pre-embryo as a "human-being", regardless of whether it had been implanted or not. For those of us who miscarried a baby early in the first trimester, we know what it feels like to be told it wasn't really a baby yet. I am inviting that judge over for dinner.

Rumors

2005-02-04T20:54:00.000-08:00

I threw up on Wednesday. It was not a spectacular event, but it was worthy of some respect. My fourth graders had another national proficiency test beginning that morning. Thankfully, our school counselor was proctoring my room. Just a few minutes after they began the test, it hit me like a truck. I quietly excused myself and ran mock ten down the hall to the (one and only) teacher restroom, where I hurled like it was going out of style. So, guess how many people stuck their head in my room yesterday and today with that look . . . that "is there something you want to tell me??" look. I even had a few, "Well, I heard you were sick yesterday! Is this good news?" This is why I don't eat in the faculty lounge. When I can't hurl because my coffee was too strong, due to the fact that I had been erasing it out of my diet because I thought I might be pregnant, which was really stupid on my part - why deny myself? - like I said, when I can't hurl in privacy, there is a problem! Now the rumors have begun. I actually yelled at the last teacher who breached my room today after school, wanting to "get the goods" on my vomitous moment. J: "So, Sara! I heard the good news! You were sick on Wednesday! Is this what we all presume it is??" Me: (growling) "No, J. I drank too much coffee." J: "Well, you knnow you really shouldn't drink coffee when you could be pregnant. When I was pregnant with my last son, the doctor told me . . . -" *I will skip my response, which was full of lovely explicatives and phrases like "not fucking pregnant" and "leave your fucking past successful pregnancies out of this". Oh, the joy of co-workers.

A little Accutane, A Lot of Guilt . . .

2005-02-02T21:18:00.000-08:00

For most of us that have miscarried or lost a child, I know that we often times find ourselves questioning what it is we did that made this happen. For me, it was questions like:

Was it the cocktail I drank at the wedding we went to back east?
Was it the prescriptions and antibiotics I took for two weeks to get ride of the sinus infection and sore throat?
Was it the roller coaster I got on?
Was it the hot showers or that hot bath I took after that long day at work?
Was it the stress from the argument that Mike and I had about nothing I can even remember at this point?
Was it all of the soda and coffee I consumed?

The list of questions goes on and on and along with that (for many) comes the guilt of thinking they did something to cause this to happen.

I just completed Getting Pregnant: What You Need to Know Right Now, by Niels Lauersen. Basically, if you want to read a book that will just make you worry a bit more about what you SHOULD be doing or would you COULD have done differently, this is your book. It had some interesting facts I had yet to read about, but really . . . . what are the answers, really? If there were great, steadfast answers out there, there might not be such a thing as infertility.

Anyway, my most recent worry that I have managed to push out of my mind until recently (well, until I read the damn book) is that Accutane has damaged my ability to have children somehow. Now, if you don't know about Accutane, it is a drug prescribed to treat severe cystic acne. It has a book-full of lovely side effects, but with the bad comes the good for so many, like myself, that were NEVER able to rid of the painful case(s) of cystic acne that began, for me, when I was 14.

Accutane is also called isotetrin and works well drying up the sebaceous glands in your face that produce sebum (oil) which is usually the underlying cause of acne. It is a whopping dose of vitamin A, essentially, so monthly blood work is required during the short time you take the drug to measure your billirubin (liver enzyme) levels. For women, they also make you sign a waiver that states it causes birth defects and you are to either abstain or use birth control pills for the duration of the treatment.

Unlike most who have taken the drug, I am an exception. I have done three rounds of Accutane since 1994, the last one being in 2001. Most people have only taken it once. Actually, they only suggest you take it once, as it really does a number on you. For me, it cleared me up great each time, but I ended up having 2 horrible reoccurances that were cleared up with another 3-month treatment. I am relatively acne-free (unfortunately not scar free) and happy with the results. The pain and god-awful side affects were worth the end result.

I have heard a lot lately about how they are starting to think Accutane is stored in your fat cells for up to a year after you stop taking the medication. So, this gets me thinking more about what these docs really know about it. What if it is not just a year? Is 365 days the magic time when this leaves your body? I have A LOT of fat cells, what if it is still lingering in my system? (You get my point, the questions go on and on.)

So, I have been unable to find any research on this or cases where infertility or miscarriages later on down the line might be attributed to Accutane. Any thoughts? My Mom made a reassuring comment. "Sara, if this was a known problem, we would be hearing about it on the news because so many young girls have taken this drug." True, but what if no one is connecting the dots? How long did it take doctors to realize Thalidomide and DES were damaging women and their babies?

Just another thing to keep me from getting a full night's sleep these days. . . .

Joey

2005-02-02T06:36:00.000-08:00

I have not felt much like posting, but I think I am getting over the "damnit-my-period-is-here" bump in the road. It seems to take a few days, although I unleash the waterworks at incredibly small things now, like EPT commericials, first-graders that want to hold my hand (who don't even know me), and the fact that we are out of any form of chocolate here at the house. If those things weren't enough, I found out about a little kindergartener at my school yesterday who has had a really unfortunate accident. I know we here in the blog-world of infertility-challenged are overwhelmed anyway with our own screwed-up situations surrounding children,(or the DESIRE for children) but I wanted to share with you just in case anyone wants to help out in some way. (I also know we spend every extra dime on the medicine and treatments that are not covered by our cheap-ass insurance companies, so I doubt there will be many that COULD help, even if they wanted to.) Being a teacher myself, I am only able to put forth a little pocket change, so to speak, but everything helps. This is Joey's site.He has been attending our school this year in Las Vegas and I believe he was staying with family here, although the majority of his family lives in Arizona. At the beginning of January, he somehow managed to pull down a very large, heavy television off an entertainment center and it dropped on his head. You hear of this happening all the time, it seems, with young children. We hear of how important it is to station these pieces of furniture. Regardless, it happened and Joey is in the children's ICU here at University Medical Center. Joey's family does not have medical insurance. Joey is not doing well. However, they think he will live, despite having skull and brain removed. It is so incredibly sad. His classroom was next door to mine and he is the child in line making the witty comments, he is the child that catches the attention of those outside of his class with his sweet, infectious laugh. I have cried enough about it. I thought I would pass the site along to you and if you chose to help or sign his guestbook, thank you. Having children seems to be something we are all working so hard for. Once you have them, the challenge is overcoming the fear of things like this happening. My friend Nancy used to say that when you have children, you are "setting yourself up for heartache." This comment used to annoy me to no end, but I guess in a sense it is true. You end up loving this person you created so much that you would die for them and do everything to keep them healthy. Have a great Wednesday. Hugs to all the women in our "community" that have recently become mothers or are about to - we may neglect to realize you have just as much, if not more, on your plate than we do, the women who are striving to be mothers too someday. And send your warm thoughts Joey's way, too.

Square Freakin' One . . .

2005-01-31T16:59:00.000-08:00

Back at the beginning, folks . . . Welcome to another horrifying, Halloween-esque mentrual cycle, complete with a newly thickened endometrium due to the Progesterone you were taking for the CONCEPTION THAT NEVER HAPPENED . . . I want Motrin, I want my heating pad, and I want a large bottle of wine to drown the pain in. And all are at home, which is where I should be, instead of bleeding like a stuck pig here at school until 9 pm tonight. I am just so sad.

Charting is only making me more psychotic . . .

2005-01-30T09:45:00.000-08:00

And down my temperature goes . . . I am like a bug (pregnancy-challenged person) approaching the windshield (coverline) and I know it is just.going.to.be.bloody.

Prometrium Sucks Big DD

2005-01-29T20:53:00.000-08:00

Okay . . . I have officially decided that I hate Prometrium. I ate dinner with it tonight and let's just say I am more than a little messed up. I feel exactly like I have consumed many, many margaritas and even a few shots. All I need is some techno music and I am 22 again. I am on a high dose of it, 400 mg, and it is taking much effort to write this. I keep having to backtrack to fix my words spelled correctly. I need help. Keep me away fro, f- where is the m, from the pregnancy tests. They are ruining my life. I threw the BFN across the room today and saw some stars afterwards. Now I can't even find the negative test. My dog probably ate it because her bones are thin and white. For some reason, I know that this is not my month. Why am I refraining from coffee and soda and all the other stuff that should hurt your pregnancy? I hate this so much. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it. I am going to go lay down. The world will stop spinning then. Or not and then I will throw up on my new couch.

A Normal Shopping List

2005-01-29T16:16:00.000-08:00

So . . made my usual Saturday errands and stopped at Walgreens on the way home for the following: Pregnancy tests tampons light bulbs To the ordinary person like myself, this did not seem like a strange array of items on my shopping list. However, to anyone still living in the world that is NOT fertility-challenged, like the huge, pregnant woman behind the counter, it would apparently be rather strange and amusing. As she held back her giggles, I just stared at her as she asked me to "enter my PIN number". If there would not have been two little boys in line behind me, I would have told her where she could put my PIN number. Fertile ho.

And we thought we knew it all!

2005-01-28T16:49:00.000-08:00

A co-worker was kind enough to give me a page from the February 2005 copy of Redbook. Now, not that Redbook is the most defining of magazines or medically significant, even, but I thought it was somewhat interesting. I will make it easy on you and sum up the article in a lovely "Top 10" list. The Top 10 Things You Didn't Know About Getting Pregnant: (*I, myself, will be anxiously awaiting the Top 10 for things we didn't know about STAYING pregnant. I am still searching . . . . ) 10. It turns out, according to the University of Utah School of Medicine that OPKs are only accurate 68-84% of the time in predicting ovulation. 9. The National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences discovered that couples who have sex one to two days BEFORE ovulation almost double their odds of conceiving, compared with those who have sex the day of ovulation. 8. Sperm, according to that same study, can live inside a woman's body for 5 days. (Am I the only person who is a little freaked out by that??) 7. Don't smoke or drink and tell your partner not to also! Cigarettes contain agents that damage sperm AND eggs. People that drink 2 or more bottles of vino a week or 1/2 a bottle of liquor are 59% more likely to end up needing fertility treatments to conceive. 6. The optimal BMI (Body mass index) for getting pregnant is 18.5 to 24.9. 5. "Don't worry about the pillow." In other words, the propping up we all have done to our pelvic regions to "get those swimmers swimming in the right direction" is pointless, according to this. Within 15-60 seconds of ejaculation, millions are already zipping up the reproductive tract. 4. Telling your husband "not to play" or "waste" the troops on events that don't involve you does not waste the sperm. 3. Frequent ejaculations don't dilute or weaken sperm. In the New England Journal of Medicine Study, doing the hibbity dibbity everyday during your fertile period means your chances of conceiving are 37%. (huh??) When you do the HB every other day, it goes down to 33%. 2. Wearing tight underwear does not heat up the testicles enough to affect fertility. 1. *Harvard Medical School said that drinking one cup of coffee a day DOES NOT delay conception, as previously thought. *This is my personal favorite because Starbucks has been calling my name for days now. I just cannot bring myself to do it!

Updating on Nothing Important

2005-01-27T19:45:00.000-08:00

Status: 9 dpo, 5 days until I can waste my hard-earned money for a HPT. Mood: Irritable, melancholy, I cried tonight at the restaurant we were at for no apparent reason. Then we observed a woman slap her elementary-aged child across the top of the head 4 times and I had to excuse myself before I climbed on top of her and shoved my fists down her throat. Cravings: I.want.Starbucks. Need I say more? Symptoms: "Symptoms?! We don't have no stinking symptoms!" (bad movie line) Boobs are a little swollen, tummy is crampy, temperature is completely screwed up, back is killing me, constipated beyond belief, but hey . . . the joys of Foltx, prenatal vitamins with fortified iron, and Progesterone are too hard to pass up! (Apparently it could be worse and I could be on Clomid, which according to many recent posts is the anti-Christ.) The only really decent news is that tomorrow is Friday and I am not scheduled for a D & C. Am I being too optimistic here?

Unanswered Questions

2005-01-26T21:27:00.000-08:00

For some extra connecting information about myself, I am finishing up my Masters program, along with 16 others who are in the same cohort as I am. We have all been in the same classes together now for 2 years and like our first instructor told us, "you will soon be like family". We are, essentially, thanks to spending long hours at the same schools and then attending classes together two evenings a week. One of the women I attend class with, whom I shall call "Anne", is the class clown of the group. She is always outspoken, whether it be an inspirational saying for the evening or a hilarious joke or experience to help remind us why we became teachers. Whenever we get a new instructor, we tell the "guinea pig" that Anne is the quiet, shy one. It always cracks me up seeing the shock spread across the instructor's face when they realize (by the end of class) that Anne is actually the loudest and craziest one. Last year, after returning from my D & C, Anne pulled me aside and whispered to me the story of her two miscarriages, both of which she experienced on her own. For her first, she had barely made it to the public restoom at her work when she miscarried and she was so scared and bleeding so much, they had to call the ambulance to come and take her. Imagine trying to keep your new pregnancy hush-hush and then being wheeled out on a gurney, skirt full of blood, in front of everyone you work with. It is truly such a private thing that we should be able to share by choice. Anne is so optimistic for me and I think this comes from the fact that she later went on to have 2 children, despite the fact it took her many years to conceive again. And you know what's sad? I actually had this conversation with Mike when we found out about the last miscarriage. He asked me, "If you had to have 5 more miscarriages to get ONE healthy baby, would you do it?" At the time, I think I said yes, but that, of course, would be out of knowing you would, at some point, have a healthy child. This is so blind for all of us. There is no answer, there is no guarantee. What is sad is that I actually caught myself thinking today, "If I am pregnant right now and I am destined to miscarry, then hurry up and let it happen so I can move on to the next one." It is not like I want to keep this up forever, you know? I can't! I catch myself being happy when I notice a twinge or something, thinking, "Hmmm . . maybe I am!" But then that stupid conversation we had floats back into my mind and I start thinking about how many MORE of these I might have to go through to MAYBE get to my healthy child. Basically, I just want to know. I want someone to tell me either it is going to happen or it is not. I don't want to try for the next 10 years and miscarry over and over again just to find out I never could have carried a child anyway. I really, really just hate that there are no answers to these type of questions. Meanwhile, my husband, bless his heart, buys walnuts at the store and demands that I eat them because he read somewhere that they help the baby in the first few weeks after implantation. And I don't even like walnuts. Oh well. Crunch crunch.

"Can't she do that at home?!?!"

2005-01-24T16:37:00.000-08:00

Well . . I'm afraid, ladies, it has come to this. . . . Yes, I offically felt myself up in the car on my way to class this evening, searching for ANY presence of abnormal soreness. All hope is lost for the pathetic, psychotic headcase I have become since babymaking invaded my mind. It gets worse . . . Today a nice, young teenager observed my fondling that I was trying to conceal. ***Please make a note that I am ruining today's youth in the process of trying to make one of my own. So much for tinted windows.

I Feel . . . "Off"

2005-01-23T18:05:00.000-08:00

I am sure this is not the first time in the infertile community you will hear this and I am sure it is not the last, but I feel . . . . strange. I have always liked to think that I know my body pretty well and I know when something is wrong, etc. For the past few days, I have been exhausted. Not just your run-of-the-mill tired, I mean pass-me-the-pillow-before-I-fall-on-my-face tired. I'm thinking it is either A) the Prometrium kicking in B) coming back from vacation and dealing with the lovely 4th graders C) the non-stop running around I have been doing having an effect on my energy level or D) ?? dare I say?? The thing is, last month throughout those last few weeks, I had some tiredness and I almost always felt it coming on within an hour of taking the Prometrium and the Foltx, both of which have side effects that include fatigue. But here's the kicker . . . I woke up this morning with little stingy shocks running all throughout my left breast. I thought, "Hmm, maybe I slept on the boob wrong." I went to work and did some copying and about 3pm, the other one kicked in. Like I said, strange . . . Now, during my last pregnancy, within DAYS (yes, DAYS!) of getting pregnant my nipples sort of took on their own personality. They were hard ALL THE TIME, much to the happiness of my husband. They also felt sore. I describe it like (forgive the ick! description) the skin felt raw, almost. Like when you cut yourself shaving and the skin is exposed and when the air hits it, it aches a little. Now, I am definitely not feeling that, but they are just . . . sore. God I hate this damn Prometrium. It messes everything up! So, I am a few days past ovulation (not totally sure yet because my chart has not drawn a cover line) and already I am eyeing the HPT for this weekend. I really hate what trying to conceive has done to my brain. Every ping, pang, every sensation that alerts you in some small way seems to turn on that sensor in your head that says, "What is this? Could I be pregnant? Is this how I felt last time? My mother says each pregnancy is so different, so maybe this is the difference. No, yes, no, maybe, no, no yes, ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" Just shoot me and put me out of my misery.

Can someone clean up my vomit?

2005-01-22T17:26:00.000-08:00

If this is true, I am going to kill myself. Really.

La Musica

2005-01-22T16:36:00.000-08:00

I sometimes think of the impact music has on our lives. My father used to tell me that your brain is wired so that smells, in general, remind of us previous experiences or memories. I think, for me, music is the same way. Even new music, whether there is a line in the song that "hits close to home" or a melody that reminds me of another, certain music holds descriptive images in my head, sometimes so vivid it is like I am living in the past. In the weeks after my last miscarriage, there was a song that completely captivated me. I am sure it is about something really random, but there is something beautiful about the song that sends me back to the way I felt when I knew that I was no longer pregnant. I still enjoy listening to it, although I think I do it because it allows me to remember, if that makes sense. "The Scientist", by Coldplay: the lines, "Nobody said it was easy, It's such a shame for us to part, Nobody said it was easy, No one ever said it would be this hard, Oh take me back to the start." I once heard the song was about the lead singers wife (Gwenyth Paltrow) but to me it is the conversation I never had with my child. I also like the lines: "Questions of science, science and progress, did not speak as loud as my heart." Through thinking about music, I have taken the time to pay careful attention to what songs remind me of. It is interesting, really, how we ignore that part of our brain sometimes. We simply know we love the song or type of music, but we don't consider why. Here are my recent findings: "Higher Love" - (Steve Winwood?) - reminds me of trips through the Colorado mountains with my family. The car smelt like apple juice and dryer sheets and I was obsessed with the weather we watched out the car window. It was a great time. "The Chauffeur" - (Duran Duran) Reminds of driving the Red Rock Mountain Loop here in Nevada with my first boyfriend. We would roll down the windows and let the rain sting our skin and blur our vision while enjoying the amazing shadows the mountains made on the road. "China" - (Tori Amos) A strange time in my life, trying to figure out "things" for myself. It was my first year in college and I was trying everything out or "testing the waters", so to speak. My friend Clover (what happened to Clover?) was my partner in crime. :-) "Satisfaction" - (Rolling Stones) Ah . . my mother. She loved (still loves) the Rolling Stones and although she has no beat whatsoever, she tries to dance to it. It is rather fun to watch. "Cowboys and Angels" - (G. Michael) I worked at a restaurant in high school and Kent used to come in and try to pick me up. He was much older and I liked toying with him some. I remember his shoes bothered me, he had these beat-up boots because he read gas meters for a living. He let me borrow this cd and I never returned it. Sorry, Kent. "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" - (Paul Simon) This song reminds me of my father . . . I don't know what else to say. "Lover Lay Down" - (Dave Matthews) When I met my husband, I kept telling myself that I needed to be single longer and not get tied down to anyone. I remember knowing I was going to have that conversation with him when he picked me up for lunch, but this song was on in the car. Yeah . . we never quite had that conversation. D. Matthews Band does amazing things to me. :-) My brother is in a band that has gone on some larger tours throughout the US and one of his favorite bands to tour with is "Jimmy Eat World". I bought one of the cds a few years ago and there is song that I also cherish. "Hear You Me", the lines: "If you were with me tonight, I'd sing to you just one more time, A song for a heart so big God wouldn't let it live . . " Beautiful . . Ladies, share some of your favorites!

Mothers . . .

2005-01-20T20:54:00.000-08:00

Parent/teacher conferences are going on right now. Today I met with M's mother, who is from the country of Jordan. She is an interesting, vibrant woman to speak with, our long multicultural conversation on Ramadan was the last we had before today. Now, not only is her son that is in my classroom one of the most beautiful children I have ever seen, he has 10 brothers that look just like him. Yes, she has 10 children of elementary and middle school age and then three more in high school. 13 children . . . baffling, really. During today's discussion of M's grades, she suddenly reached across the table and grabbed my hand. With her thick accent, she asked me softly, "Why don't you have children? You talk of my son like he is your own." I immediately began scanning the table for my box of kleenex because I knew the tears were coming, but when I saw all of those children looking at me, waiting for my answer, I tried to contain the waterworks for their sake. I told her we were trying, but had difficulties in the past. She shook her head and said, "You have been blessed with so many boys in your classroom (I have 21 boys and 7 girls) because you will have many of your own." Ironically, this is my long-running joke with everyone, that God is preparing me for boys because for two years now, I have these large numbers of boys in my classroom. Her comment soothed me and when she grabbed my other hand and began to pray in foreign tongue, I politely bowed my head, too, and squeezed her hands. Even though I didn't know what she was saying, it just felt right. She opened her eyes a few moments later and said, "Not long now. I have asked for my luck to be passed on to you. I am done having children." Isn't that amazing? Sometimes I lose faith in my children's parents. One student recently told me they couldn't do their homework because the power has been shut off for 3 days and there was no light to see. Another brings a moldy sandwich to lunch, so I end up giving her mine. And then a mother prays with you, in words you don't even understand, and it makes your day feel just a little brighter.

Ding, Dong, The Wicked Witch is Dead

2005-01-18T22:01:00.000-08:00

There are no words . . . My "Amazing Race" addiction has been quelched for the week. Now my love for the show is so much more now. Yes, it is true. Jonathan and Victoria are now eliminated. (fake sniffle) Ladies, if those two can weather a marriage, then by God we can handle anything.

Normal

2005-01-17T19:09:00.000-08:00

The Story of T I married T when I was 21 years old. We were what some call "high school sweethearts", although we went to two different schools. We began dating when I was 17, so marriage seemed to be the next step we were supposed to take, or at least, that is what I thought at the time. Co-dependency struck me early, even before T. My parents divorced when I was 13 and I think I was plain lonely. I dated a great guy who ironically has the same name as my current husband. I don't know if we paint a prettier picture of someone after they are dead or not, but I thought he was swell. :-) He was a year older and 15 years wiser and we spent our spare time reading every meaningful text we could get our hands on while listening to U2 and making love like we knew what we were doing. My sweet Mike died in his sleep of a genetic disorder called cardiomyopathy. His heart, the coroner told us at the time, was nearly twice its normal size. It was truly only a matter of time and he said Mike would have known, experiencing pain or other symptoms. I truly believe he knew, but he wanted to live every moment he could without addressing the issue. Life without parameters. I met T shortly thereafter through Mike's childhood friend. T made me feel like no one else did, that I was not a stupid, childish teenager mourning a boyfriend, that I was a real person with intense feelings about many things. T, although uninterested in the academic, intellectual topics I was, simply filled a void that was growing in my life when Mike left. And I let him. He thought I was beautiful. T and I moved in together right after high school and I began college. The problems began then, although they were always there, festering beneath the surface of an already unstable foundation. T had an "issue" that he disclosed to me when I was 18 years old and I never thought about the reprecussions it would have in my life later. I was so accepting and carefree, who would have thought? His issue haunted his sleep, made him grow angry at himself and at his parents for who he "was", made him do the only thing that made it all better. He began to drink. I turned my head. I forgave the lies, I forgave the times he wrecked our car or spent our savings or arrived 12 hours late. I forgave the tickets and the bar fights and the bad decisions. I forgave him because I thought that was I was supposed to do, being I did love him. It took me years, though, to realize the person I needed to start forgiving was myself. It is funny, when you look back and things go in slow motion sometimes. I remember feeling the dread of my life and my relationship, of wanting children so, so badly, but knowing that I would be a fool to have them with his man I shared a bed with. It happened so quickly, a Dateline show catching my attention and I became entranced, knowing that the show was really about me and T, although it was another couple in California. Except they had a child together. And now the child was suffering their poor decision making, all because of the husband's "issue". If you have ever seen a movie called "Normal" on HBO, a wonderful, painfully sad movie, that was my life. (minus the children and plus a little substance abuse on his part, of course.) Except I just couldn't do it. I couldn't sell myself short for a life I could not live. When I made my decision, I began planning my route out of that life and into a new one. It was then that he told me that he wanted to confront his issue head-on and that children were never going to come into this marriage. It was the last piece that helped me make my decision. I left T on December 7, 2001, my mother's 51st birthday, and I moved back home. It took me eight months to regain my self-worth, rid myself of my co-dependency, and live alone. And I learned to love it, never having lived alone before. And on one of my warrior weekends I had with the girls for many months afterwards, I met Michael. And here we are. We love each other, have faith in each other, and meet each other's intellectual needs. We talk, laugh, tickle, poke fun at, respect, and nuture one another. We also wander into the empty bedroom in our new home, the room meant for our child. When the sun comes in those windows on Sunday mornings, we stand in it and close our eyes and smile. And we wait.

#&%!*?

2005-01-17T10:17:00.000-08:00

I had a brief lapse in sanity yesterday when I THOUGHT my OPK was positive. Let's just start this very teeth-gritting entry to say that I really do hate OPKs. They suck because it is not cut and dry, like it should be. I don't know what the limits are to when you can view your result either. (like on a pregnancy test, they say to only review the result for so long before it is considered changeable or something.) So, I have three days of OPKs sitting on my computer desk, much to the confusion of my husband, who I just would rather not have to explain to why I need to test everyday anyway. Yes, my little test line has gotten thicker and darker over the past few days, but just as the instructions say, IT IS NOT THE SAME COLOR OR DARKER THAN THE REFERENCE LINE. So . . . ovulation has not yet been reached. MF. I am thinking of just investing in the ones that say "yes" and "no" so I don't have to deal with all of this drama. Am I the only person who has issues with this?!?

Old School Rappin'

2005-01-16T10:55:00.000-08:00

You down with OPK? Yeah . . you know me!!

Bitter Ramblings

2005-01-15T16:21:00.000-08:00

I remember when I finally became coherent after my D & C last July that there was a program on HBO about women who were addicted to heroin. The two women the channel chose to do this expose on were both very, very pregnant, so I watched in utter disgust, gagging as I watched these women shoot up and then waddle around, saying, "Oh, that was a good hit. Look, the baby is kicking!" I remember thinking at the time, "Why does it seem that the ones who really deserve and WANT to get pregnant, don't . . . and the ones that ARE mothers need a child like they need a hole in the head?" Of course, it is not totally true, but through my Vicodin-laden thoughts, I was more than bitter. I was thoroughly pissed. So, I thought my anger had left me. I was finally able to watch the Kindergarteners perform at school without having to excuse myself to cry and I have reached the point where I don't want to shove a ruler down the throat of many of my student's unfit, lazy-ass, welfare-taking, crack-smoking, waste-of-humanity parents. Yeah, well, I was wrong. After reading this article this morning, the anger is back. Who knew the eight steps after the loss of a baby would be more like the neverending, vicious circle of emotions. So, I'm back to step one. Anger.

Stuff

2005-01-14T16:52:00.000-08:00

I made the trip to the doc yesterday. My appointment was at 2 pm, so I thought I would have enough time to stop by the Social Security office and get my new card. I don't know what the SS office is like in other parts of the United States, but I felt like I had stepped into hell. It appears that the drudges of society just go hang out there. In between random name calling, number calling, and loud choking/coughing, you hear bits and pieces of arguments like, "No! I was in jail and I couldn't get my check! I am out of beer and I need my check today, man!" After two hours of waiting, I finally got my new card and then took an anti-bacterial bath out in my car in fear that I had caught the plague that was infecting everyone inside. My ultrasound was interesting. Who knew that my colon created shadows on the rest of my organs. I have to attempt to put the image out of my mind so I don't add "Mean-Colon-Man" to my already f-ed up dream. (see yesterday's post.) The original thought was that my left ovary had a growth on it, most likely a cyst. As the technician is poking and prodding around, she smiles and says, "Here's your right ovary! And there are your cysts!" Picture me trying to sit up on the table, rubbing my eyes. "HUH?!?" I was trying to explain to her that it was my LEFT ovary that was bothering me, not my right. Yeah, well, apparently the right ovary had some friends that are tagging along for the ride, too. Thankfully none of the cysts measured more than a few mm's. Everything I have read says this shouldn't affect your ability to get pregnant, so we'll see. The story behind my left ovary: well, she couldn't find it. Yeah, apparently my left ovary was hiding. She could get small shadows of it, but no clear, defined picture like my tricky right ovary. So, who knows what the doc will say when he gets a chance to read the results. Most likely nothing. My ovulatory pain will be identified as a side effect from the Prometrium or something. Right before she finished, she measured my endometrium and then looked at my uterus. I don't know if this has ever happened to any of you, but I felt so, so immensely sad when I looked at that black pit of a uterus on the screen. The last time I had looked at it, there was a little sac and baby inside of it, what my mother began referring to as the "Peanut". Now, nothing. Emptiness. I got dressed in the bathroom and sat down and cried. Upon reading getupgrrl's latest entry, which saddened me to no end, I sometimes wonder the same thing about loss and when it ends. I know that those of you that read me, which according to yesterday is so few, understand what I am saying. I am ready for all of the losses to be over. For you, for me, for everyone.

Dream Explanations and Reassurance Wanted: Apply Within

2005-01-13T09:56:00.000-08:00

Our one-day adventure out of this town was a nice escape. Too bad it didn't last a little longer and I could forget about all that plagues my mind these days. That night in the hotel, I soon discovered trying to sleep in a bed as hard as that one would be a challenge, plus the fact that the husband has a sinus infection and was snoring gloriously next to me. So . . . I laid awake for a long time, read a book, and flipped through a few magazines when sleep finally met me. My dream that erupted shortly thereafter seemed to go on all night and when I awoke, I was speechless and amazed that something so . . . totally bizarre . . . . could even be imagined. My reproductive organs are enemies. Yes, you heard me right. In my dream, they all had distinct personalities and voices, the most 'ironic' part being that each side of my endometrium was like a man's face. (no one I know, thank God, just a random man.) They were cracking jokes to each other, grunting, scratching, watching football, when here comes this perfect, beautiful little girl. She was pink, decked out in a very Gone With the Wind type of flowing dress. She carried an umbrella and she had no mouth with which to speak back to the masculine endometrium. They began heckling her. "Hey! Hey you! You think you are such a pretty little egg, right? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Come on! Lose the umbrella!" The egg looked as if she was going to cry and tried to move her umbrella to cover her eyes but the men kept on going. As she moved down into the uterus, the men finally began laughing hysterically. She moved the umbrella to see what it was that they were laughing at and they smiled these evil, deviant smiles. "The boys are never going to meet you here. They lied to you and said they would take you out for a spin on the town, but they decided to sleep in. " (Laughing uncontrollably) It was then that the little Southern egg became wispy and then simply disappeared, making the men laugh even harder. Is this what happens every month in my body during ovulation? WTF?!?! Lord knows I could never tell Mike about that or he would send me to a shrink. So . . for the remainder of the blog, I would like to ask for your help. When I say 'your', I am talking to those that read my blog. Based on the fact that NO ONE has commented on my escapades lately, I am only assuming that NO ONE is reading it, thus, increasing my already paranoid, low-sense-of-self that truly only comes out of the fact that I am without child. I am following "Galloping Cats" format here, and formulating a questionnaire. 1. Do you read my blog and if so, what do you think? Dull like a used pencil or ?? 2. How did you find me? 3. What are your thoughts on my totally demented dream that I recently had? Explanations, anyone? I need a pick-me-up, so help me out here, ladies. The most recent news on my reproductive front, other than the fact that my parts are starting a gang war, consists of a visit to my OB yesterday when we got back into town. I had my yearly exam. (I figured I would get that overwith just in case I get pregnant. I don't want anyone f-ing with my cervix when I am trying to keep it CLOSED.) When asked about my recent cycles, I described the mind-blowing pain I have been having with each period after my D & C. Upon feeling around, a growth was discovered on my left ovary. Cyst? Polyp? Some other strange thing that has attached to my body that is NOT an embryo? Anyway, there was expressed concern since I have had so much left-side discomfort recently, so I am off to get a pelvic ultrasound. Let's see if I can manage not to punch the tech today when they decide my bladder is not full enough and jabs the wand in more, simultaneously giving me water to drink. A final thought: When I was leaving and they gave me the ultrasound paper with the instructions, it listed all of the types of ultrasounds you can have and they check the right one for your appointment. At the very bottom of the page, there was a listing for "Just for Fun" Ultrasound. For some reason, this made me want to cry. I want the days to arrive, for all of us, that we can see the box checked in the "Just for Fun" ultrasound category. Until then, we can get violated by the "Not-so-Fun" ultrasound.

Making a Getaway

2005-01-10T22:15:00.000-08:00

Five screwed up things that happened today: 1. I got rear-ended by a lady who was too busy smoking and talking on her cell phone to notice those TWO BRIGHT RED LIGHTS ON THE CAR IN FRONT OF HER. (me) No offense to any smokers out there, but she had a baby and another child in the car. Grrrr. 2. I got the testing schedule from now until April in my in-box at work. Basically, there is some type of test (Interim testing, CRT test, IOWA tests, DIBBELS testing, 4th grade writing proficiency exam) from now until the end of time. They need to change my job title to "Tester". Not teacher. Do I get to actually TEACH my children something or am I just randomly administering tests to appease our "No Child Left Behind" Act. (aka "No Child Left Untested" Act)??? Thanks, Bush. Way to go, buddy. 3. One of my fish disappeared. (I know what you are thinking, HUH?!?) Yeah, me, too. I have 10 fish. (Well, now 9.) I have Columbian freshwater sharks, along with some other really cute ones, all that have pet names. Scooter, my small little guy who THINKS he is a shark, is missing. None of the other fish are aggressive, so WTF? Did the others suddenly get a craving for guppy or did he join Fish Purgatory and he is in Fish-Limbo somewhere? 4. My houseplants have been recently infected with fungus gnats, these little annoying fly-creatures that resemble fleas. They often show up in the winter and are SO HARD to kill without killing the plant. Plus . . . I have a certain affliction to pesticides of any kind, thinking in some way they could harm my already-compromised reproductive system. So, if anyone has a HAZ-MAT suit I can throw on to spray my plants, let me know. 5. I decided to wrap up this last week of vacation by touching up all of the spots that were scuffed, etc. in our recent move. I went from room to room, dabbing on the touch-up paint our builder left for us. It was not until it dried and the sun briefly came out that it is NOT AT ALL the color of white that was originally used. My phone call to our customer service rep., whom I affectionately refer to as Mr. Jerk-off, went as follows: Me: "Hi Mr. Jerk-off. I am calling because the paint that was given to us when we moved in a few months ago is not the correct color of touch-up paint. I was hoping you could drop the correct paint by when you get a chance." Mr. Jerk-Off: "Oh, ma'am. That IS the correct color. Perhaps you are just confusing the flat paint and the semi-gloss paint?" Me: "Uh, no. I am not confusing the two. It is clearly a very off-white color, as the TRUE color underneath it is a very WHITE color. You feel me?" Mr. Jerk-Off: "Ma'am, maybe you are color-blind. I have heard of a lot of people being colorblind these days . . . Ask your husband to look at it and see what he says." Me: (Through gritted teeth) "Look, I know what I am looking at here. So does my COLORBLIND HUSBAND!!! Drop off the correct paint to my home so I CAN NOW TOUCH-UP MY TOUCHUPS THAT SHOULD HAVE ALREADY BEEN TOUCHED UP!" Needless to say, Mr. Jerk-Off didn't want to continue our conversation and has NOT dropped off the correct color. When our shower pipe began leaking through the kitchen ceiling right before Thanksgiving (oh yeah, that was an exciting one! You would have thought we bought a house built in 1657 or something!) . . . the painter that had to come cut out our wall and clean up THAT Mickey-Mouse job had made a comment about how they used a different BRAND of paint for our house, for some reason. So, until Mr. Jerk-Off gets his head out of his ass, I am stuck with polka-dotted walls. I called Mike at work tonight and told him we are leaving tomorrow. No work, no cell phones, no screwed up Vegas drivers, no annoying gnats, no Mr. Jerk-Off. I reserved a room at a hotel about 2 hours outside of town. I also reserved full body massages and honey coconut baths. By God, if I am going to get knocked up this month, I have to unwind.

My Blog is Pretty Now!!! :-)

2005-01-09T19:34:00.000-08:00

Well, Jaime, my lovely friend at http://babywait.blogspot.com was kind enough to help me format my blog. My hat is off to you, dear! Laziness is starting to get the best of me on my break. I had the WORST case of cabin fever today, so I ended up going to work for about an hour and rearranging my classroom a little. I then went to the gym, you know, that place many of us pay to have a membership to and never go? Yeah, I made an appearance. I have added a little "junk in my trunk" due to the yummy Christmas sweets. Mike and I ran into a teacher I used to work with at the grocery store today. She is a lovely woman who helped me realize that I wanted to teach. I observed her a lot before I actually began teaching, hoping her wonderful techniques would rub off on me. She has been married for about 12 years and her and her husband have been trying to conceive for about 10. We talked briefly about where they are at - all of their tests have come back normal except for slow motility on her husband's swimmers. I guess the doc put him on Clomid (him?! huh?!) and his motility improved, but no baby. So . . . I guess IVF was a little pricey for them, considering they live on teacher wages. (plus the fact that our insurance does not cover much in the fertility department.) So, they are looking into adoption. I am so happy they have begun the process. She will be a wonderful mother.

Malfunctioning

2005-01-08T18:31:00.000-08:00

I am really debating on whether I should throw this computer out my second story window. Okay . . . so it is not the computer's fault. I have to blame someone, though, I am simply refuse to chalk this up to "Sara's just not very computer literate!" All I want . . . . (yeah, er, other than a baby) is to POST A PICTURE UNDER MY PROFILE!!! Better yet, ABOVE my profile! I have attempted to put it into the template by posting it to the site, deleting it to get the location, and then pasting the location into the template. Didn't work. I have tried putting it directly INTO my profile where it simply says, "Add photo here." Didn't work. I have tried everything but pasting it onto my screen simply to please myself and I am sure THAT would not even work. See?!?!?! I can't carry a baby for more than 2 months in my body AND I CAN'T MAKE MY BLOG PRETTY! @*&^%#(*&^@#*&@^*&@^ I need a drink.

2005-01-07T16:24:00.000-08:00

Mike and I spent the day driving around the Northwestern part of Las Vegas, enjoying the snow. It blanketed that part of our valley, which was beautiful and a LOVELY change. I would love to move back East. (And those of you back East are cursing at me right now!) I'll shovel your snow and you can come here and fry during the summer! :-)

2005-01-07T16:15:00.000-08:00

Snow in Las Vegas?!?!?

Hope

2005-01-06T13:43:00.000-08:00

Mike has a cousin that lives here in Nevada. Although we are not close, I am very close with her mother, whom we lovingly refer to as "Aunt P". When my husband was a baby, his mother was diagnosed with cancer and she was hospitalized for many, many months. Mike's father was nearly 50 years old and there were 3 other boys at home, so Aunt P took Mike and basically became his surrogate parent until he reached the age of 6. (His mother passed away when he was barely a year old.) He then returned to live with his father in grade school. So, Aunt P was here for Christmas, visiting us and her daughter who lives here. Over the holidays, the subject of our ongoing efforts to get pregnant and stay pregnant came up and Aunt P and her daughter disclosed their own private hells. Aunt P had three miscarriages inbetween all of her children. (Miscarriage, daughter C, miscarriage, son B, miscarriage, daughter D) All of her miscarriages were well into the second trimester and she was forced to deliver all of the children as if they were full-term. No explanation was ever reached for her difficulties, but she has 3 lovely children. D, her daughter, had a little girl last Christmas that is the most precious child ever. We loved spending time with her here in our home, Mike busy chasing her around since she has recently found her legs. D told me that she was married once before and tried for many years to get pregnant. When she finally did, she was rushed to the ER with an ectopic pregnancy, her right tube having ruptured open. She had that tube and ovary removed and was told that her chances of having a child were minimal considering she was already 40 years old and only had one working ovary. It was last year that she divorced, met a wonderful man, and had her daughter. She is discussing trying for a second child soon. For Christmas, Aunt P gave us a small, silver-plated frame with a picture of D's daughter. D was upset her mother had given us a picture of her little one, saying, "They don't want a picture of her in their house, Mom!" But Mike and I smiled and shook our heads, placing her little picture in our bedroom next to Yankee Bear. Our Yankee Bear was created on our honeymoon at a "Build-A-Bear" Workshop in California, our small ritual to make a bear for the 2 children we never had and for the child we dream of. Lastly, we adorned the bear with a Yankees t-shirt, for our favorite team, and placed the bear in our bedroom as a reminder of what is to come. We are more than optimistic. Now, next to Yankee Bear is a picture of D's daughter, a reminder that great things come to those who wait and that anything is possible.

Aunt Flo Has Ruined Her Welcome

2005-01-04T16:51:00.000-08:00

I have been secretly praying that this was it. My Basal temperatures were still pretty high, I was approaching day 32 of my cycle, hoping against all hope that Aunt Flo had gone to Egypt for the year, not to be returning anytime soon. Yesterday my temperature went from 98.3 to 97.8, dropping below my cover line for the first time since I ovulated. I kept thinking maybe it was a fluke, but last night the cramps arrived, bad cramps, so I have just been waiting around. Normally my period starts the day I get those nasty pings and pangs, but I have only spotted a tiny bit last night and a touch today. Enter my head, where thoughts like,"Could this be implantation spotting? Is this really my period? My temperature went down, so it has to be. Unless I had a chemical pregnancy, then maybe not. (squeeze nipples) Nope, no soreness. Bloated, crampy, could be the Prometrium, though. . . " (and my thoughts never stop, thus accounting for the past two nights without sleep.) Inside, I know I am not pregnant. And I am sad. I had to pick up my friend's baby shower gift last night and I didn't even think of how Babies R' Us would make me feel. Pregnant women walking around everywhere, shopping carts full, excited Dads laughing with their wives, and then there is me, the girl struggling not to open a box of baby wipes to clean up my mascara. I am frustrated and pissed this is the way my year is starting off. More than anything, I am just feeling . . . down. Mike has tried to cheer me up, saying, "But we get to practice so much more this month!" Blah, blah, blah. I just want a baby.

Friends, Pals, Comrades, anyone?

2005-01-01T22:15:00.000-08:00

My New Year began EXACTLY the way I didn't want it to. Mike was supposed to get off work at 10 pm and we were going to spend a relaxing evening together. His lovely boss made him stay, despite the fact that he did not have any customers for 3 hours. (Um, hello?! They were all at the Strip or at home with their families, like my husband should have been!) So I was all misty-eyed over thinking this is how my year is going to be. Mike is sweet-enough (or smart enough) to realize females often need to be reassured in times of moodiness, so I feel a little better. I dreamed last night about friends, old and new. It was a very long, vivid dream full of past experiences and then some new ones. Earlier in the day I had a conversation with Mike about how it seems, for one reason or another, I have (or we have?) grown apart from my friends. Why is that? Am I not a good friend? Are they not good friends? Are we simply too different and just end up growing apart? I want "Sex in the City" friends, is this possible??? Here is the shortened, soap-opera version of my historical background on friendships. . . . . -Moved to Nevada from Texas when I was 13, so that immediately made my childhood friends kind of fade out of the picture. K., C, K2, and A - friends, but not close friends. They were of the . . . how shall I say, religious upbringing? We have lost touch over the past few years, but they all have 3, 2, 3, and 3 children respectively. J. - My best friend throughout high school. She was great, the mirror opposite of me, so we complemented each other well. I have no idea what hapened here, except that there was a disagreement over whether she wanted to be in my 1st wedding or something like that. We have talked, but not in the past 2 years or so. At last, she had a daughter. I miss her. B - friend during college, worked together. We were very close, but something, once again, happened that I don't know what it was. We have grown apart, we call every few months, but still have not seen each other's new homes since we moved in this Fall. She has a daughter. J2 - friend I met through my x-husband. We still talk on the phone, she lives in CA. She has a daughter and is pregnant with another little girl. Going to be moving back here this summer. At the time we were close, I introduced her to B, and now they are the best of friends and somehow I am left out of the loop. (hmm . . no baby?) V - oh . . . . . .the story of V. I don't even have enough room to tell. I will say that we had an . . . . interesting relationship. We shared many things, perhaps TOO many things. She has recently began shacking up with the x-husband of a friend of ours. We don't speak. Our last conversation: V: "Hey! I am back in town and living with !*&^@(*&. Can you believe that? He is so great. " S: "Wow. What does K think of you living with her x and her two children?" V: "Oh, you know, she deals with it. So . . are you still pregnant?" (We had not talked since before my bridal shower, which she did not come to because she was too busy knocking boots with new sugar daddy.) S: "No, I had a miscarriage again back in July." V: "Aww, sorry. So, what else is new?" (This is where I began slamming the phone down on the coffee table and screaming, "BAD CONNECTION! BAD CONNECTION!") So . . as you can see, my history of friends just kind of sucks. I think, in some ways, I have not wanted to get close to anyone lately, either. It is rather hard in this city to get close to people, too. Everyone is do freaking busy or stuck in traffic. Mike and I had a long conversation and after the next school year, we want to move to New York where he is from. (Western NY, small town.) I went for a visit in June and LOVED IT. I am slowly beginning to hate it here. On the el prego frontage, yesterday revealed one m-f-ing pink line. My father brought our Christmas gifts over (late) and gave us a book called "The End of Evolution". He told me that I have to read it before I give birth and I lovingly said, "Well, does not look like that is going to happen anytime soon, so I guess I can get started!" I don't think he understands me.

Reality Check

2004-12-31T15:06:00.000-08:00

Today was another one of those lounge-around days. The hubbie did not get off work until 2 am, so it was nice to sleep in with him. We woke up and went for soup and salad at Tony Roma's and then came home to a jumping, running-around-in-circles dog. (Chloe loves the weather right before it rains, so she demanded we take her for a long, leisurely walk.) When we got back, I was sitting here in the kitchen debating on where to start the massive cleaning session I need to embark on when a Bristish tourist came on CNN with his newly-released video from the Tsunami in Asia. Now, I am a cryer. Maybe it comes with being female or maybe it is more just me. I am a notorious nose-blower for camera commercials or anything that has to do with family, children, babies, pregnancy, animals, well, shit, name it and I will shed a tear over it at some point. This video blew me away, though. You could hear his little children in the background, identifying the impending wave, which impressed me because, you know, the teacher in me . . . But it was more real than the other snippits that I have tried not to watch. This is what all of those people saw, I kept thinking. Then, of course, they go to the footage in the hospitals of all of these orphaned children, crying for their parents, and I lost it. Not only do I hate crying in front of Mike, because I do it so often, I hate crying when there are no kleenex anywhere nearby and I am forced to walk past the television and fumble my way upstairs to the box I keep so handy next to my bed. (you know, for those "Daddy is leaving on a plane, let's-call-him-using-Sprint commercials.) I guess it just seems so truly unfair what people are often forced to endure. You know, in my first post, I talked about how my OB and I talked about how you can't compare sorrows. I always felt so guilty for crying over my 2 miscarriages when I read of others who have lost 8 babies. (Plus, there is always that a-hole, carefully reminding me, "God works in mysterious ways, Sara. At least you know you can get pregnant.") It is you that I have to force myself not to vomit on. You can't see what finger I am holding up. Anyway, it is New Year's Eve, and as much as it should be a time of celebration for many all over the Earth, I am thinking today of those little children with missing parents. I would take them all. Before I decided to become a teacher, I was getting my degree in Social Work. I changed that once I did my first internship and watched the Social Workers pry a screaming, beautiful boy from his foster mother, because, as they later told me, "The Mom changed her mind and there is a statute of limitations for 2 years here." I told me husband at the time (my x, long story, I married my high-school sweetheart, dumb-da-dumb-dumb, I'll explain later) well, I told him that I had to switch careers or I would adopt every child I could get my hands on. So, today, and this evening, I'm staying in, and I am going to be thankful for life. I am thankful that we are safe here, despite others who aren't. I hope 2005 brings joy to all of those whose blogs I read regarding their own fertility issues. Maybe this is going to be our year. :-)

On "Holiday" . . and All I Want Are my Sweats

2004-12-30T19:24:00.000-08:00

Teaching children is a dream job. I almost pee my pants at least twice a day listening to something that comes out of one of my dear student's mouths. And the hugs are great, too. The best, though . . . . . is the vacation. (sighing, streatching, yawning) I work at a 12-month school, so my summer vacation, or what would be my summer vacation, is spread out variably throughout the year. I have one of the better "tracks", so my vacations back up to Spring Break and Christmas, thus, making a normal vacation seem . . . like a super vacation. :-) So . . . I don't have to go back to work until the end of January and my house looks like I had family in town. Hmmph . . . I DID have family in town, you mean I have not mopped or cleaned since they left days ago? Yes . . . I have more important things to do, like watch my Netflix DVD's so I can send them back and get more. Tonight's viewing was composed of two movies that, let's say, did not really captivate me. XX/XY was a dull, lifeless movie about a "almost-threesome" that never really happened, but kind of did, and how the 30-something three attempted to deal with it later. (Big yawn.) I also watched "We Don't Live Here Anymore", which was slightly better, only because it had the guy (Peter Krause?) from "Six Feet Under", but had the other annoying guy from XX/XY. I have already walked the return-envelopes out to my mailbox and the only thing I have left to do is . . . clean. Somehow it just does not look that appealing right now. Mike, the hubbie, works in the evenings at a local Italian restuarant. He is beginning his student teaching in a few weeks and will soon be joining me in the throws of educating today's youth. (I have to teach them Reading, Writing, and Math and he is forced to teach them how to exercise and eat properly, one which I think would be slightly harder and more unsuccessful considering the amount of fast-food we now have to choose from.) So . . . here I am, laying with Chloe, our four-legged child. I tried to brush her teeth today, but she simply thinks that is hilarious and spits all over me. Her 11-year old, pit-bull breath is not appealing when you cuddle with her, but we love her anyway. On the pregnancy front, I was proud of myself today. I have not peed on any of the evil sticks. However, I have fondled myself 643 times, searching for nipple soreness with no luck. I felt like I needed to hurl today, but Mike says it is psychological and I say it was bad iced tea. Who knows. I do know I had already felt something by now when I was pregnant earlier this year. (I am a dork, I made notes.) The thought of waiting until January to try again just pisses me off. I am going to a baby shower on the ninth for a co-worker. She is wonderful, a deserved-mother-to-be. She had IVF and is expecting her daughter at the end of January. Some of her earlier tests show the baby might have Downs, but she choose not to go ahead with the more elaborate testing and just wait and see. God Bless her. I am craving Starbucks badly, but have flipped off caffeine until I know if my husband's sperm joined up with my egg for a little fun. I think I am going to go and settle for a ice water and a turkey sandwich. Maybe I will wash the sweats so they will be soft and clean for my day of lounging tomorrow. Maybe not.

Introductions

2004-12-29T18:06:00.000-08:00

Allrightie . . . I have been attempting to type a decent introduction in the "About Me" section with no luck. 1200 words or less . . . gees. So, here is a more detailed intro if you are interested. I got pregnant in December 2002 and had no idea until I reached my doctor. I wasn't trying, but certainly was not opposed to, as children are amazing. I also am a teacher, so being surrounded by their wonderful, amazing presence daily is a gift that keeps on giving! I had just met Michael, the man who I am now married to, and was freaking a little about having to tell him and my mother at the same time, who was getting remarried the next month. So, I decided to take a break from thinking about it and took my prearranged trip to visit my Mom and brother in Texas for Christmas. I had what I thought was breakthrough bleeding while there, but upon coming back and visiting my doc again, was told I had a "chemical pregnancy." Basically . . . . "Hey, you're pregnan- . . oh, wait, no you're not." It was sad to me, but for some reason I don't think it affected me the way I thought it would have. I think I kind of pushed it out of my mind. So, Mike and I continued dating and he asked me to marry him in May 2004. We celebrated and were preparing to fly to New York to visit his family for an engagement party when I started feeling super-bad. (Like I said, we celebrated!)Tired, tired, tired! I took pregnancy test after pregnancy test, all showing a negative. I wasn't late yet, though, but I just felt off. It hurt to take a shower, that water hitting my chest was like a gladiator spearing me in the areola! We went to NY and returned, still no period. I took a test, the brightest line coming up in about 2.4 seconds. I was ecstatic, scared, nervous, happy, shocked, all of the above! Telling Mike was funny, he knew before I even told him. :-) My first appointment was July 5th and they did a vaginal ultrasound at that time. It showed everything was fine, about 5 weeks along, no fetal pole yet, though. I told my family, something I am not so sure I would do now, at least, that early. We were so excited, it just seems right to tell everyone! I had my bridal shower on July 10th and noticed that evening I had brown spotting. I had already read every book known to man about being pregnant, so I knew brown was usually considered old blood and I didn't worry. The night of the 11th, I passed a clot about 7-inches long. I screamed, cried, knew that was it. Mike peeled me off the floor and we called my doctor, who told me to go to the ER and he would call and see what their ultrasound said. We arrived, waited for 3 hours, had the ultrasound, and there was my little baby's heatbeat, beating away. 145 bpm. Beautiful. Perfect in every way. I felt peace. Rolling me away from that picture on the machine, though, was rolling me back into reality. A lot of talk and paperwork about "threatened miscarriage" came next and I was upset again. Threatened? It made no sense. The bleeding stopped except for a small brown spot here and there. The next Sunday, we were right back where we started with it. I began bleeding a lot more and passing clots and my back ached some. We went back, had another ultrasound, except this time they wouldn't let me look. There was no talking, no sound, there was physical discomfort this time, like I was super-sensitive to be touched with the wand. My hcg was 8,000, but we had nothing to compare it to since I had not had a count. The technician told the doc through the curtain that "there was no fetal movement or heartbeat" and my world crashed. It seemed so wrong that something could live and die so quickly. They called my doctor and he told me to come in the next morning when they opened. That was the first, and only time, I have ever seen my husband cry. My doctor did yet another ultrasound the next morning. He said that so many times he sees women that bleed like I did in early pregnancy to go on to have normal births. However, his u/s confirmed the sac had shrunk. No fetal pole. I was scheduled for a D & C at 4pm. The D & C itself was not as serious as I thought it would have been. It took them an hour to get in my IV needle because I had not eaten or drank anything, so I looked like a crack addict. I had little to no pain afterwards, hardly any bleeding. I just slept and loved sleeping because there I could forget. It was waking up that was the hard part, remembering that I was no longer pregnant. We got married on August 16th and began talking about trying to get pregnant. My periods were awful, though, lasting 8 days and being heavier than anything I have ever experienced. My doctor sent me to see a specialist because I have a congential heart defect. (nothing serious enough to prevent me from having children, but just to be safe.) In the genetic testing that was done, the only issue that arose was that I am a heterozygous carrier for the MTHFR gene. (or as another one of my reproductively-challenged gals calls it, the mother-fucker gene) Sometimes a carrier of this gene gets raised homocystine levels in the bloodstream. It is unknown if this could be part of the problem, but I am taking the prescribed Foltx for additional Folic Acid. I also take Prometrium and a baby aspirin daily. My story takes me to here . . . we decided this month to try. I read "Taking Charge of Your Fertility" cover to cover, began charting in November for practice, and ovulated about a week ago. So, if I am pregnant, I won't most likely know until the beginning of January. (Don't worry, I already started peeing on those damn sticks and cursing myself the entire time, all negative so far.) My temps do not follow the books exactly, they are a little off, so who knows. Anyway, I am starting this journal for a few different reasons. One of them is that I hope to create a sense of peace. I think everyone and their brother is sick to death of hearing me talk about getting pregnant. (at least, in my family) Hopefully this can provide an outlet for me. Two, during my many midnight tiptoeings to the computer to search for answers that are NOT THERE, I have discovered a whole slew of women that are in the reproductively-challenged boat along with me. And we are just rowing away. Their stories have helped me learn to cope better. As my doctor says, "There is no way to compare sorrows." Your sorrow, her sorrow, my sorrow, it is all the same. Whether you have lost 10 or 1, our sorrow is our own. Talking about it with others, however, will hopefully ease the sense of solititude and mend old wounds. I hope to further friendships with these women. While my friends here all go to Mommy and Me classes, I can stick out my tongue and blog. :-)