Holidays, hormones, and the Apocalypse

Well, as I feared would happen I failed to keep my goal of blogging every day. It’s been quiet in crazy town. A little too quiet. Technically though, it hasn’t been quiet. I just figured that if I wrote down what I was feeling and posted it online the courts would have hard evidence and I would get a longer stay in the crazy house.
So I will fill you in on everything I can think of.

The holidays.
I hate the holidays. I’ve mentioned this before. It’s not really actual hate it’s more of a dislike of the pressure we all have to sit around a table with people we barely see and make chit-chat while shoveling food in your face then open gifts that we can’t afford to buy and really hope the receiver doesn’t hate it but you had no clue what to get for them because, again, you see them a few times a year and never talk. Remember what happened with Thanksgiving? I found out, yet again, I wasn’t pregnant? Fast forward about 30 days. Rinse and repeat. On the 21st I had my appointment to get checked. I was trying not to get my hopes up. I love Candi but I swear on my life her optimism may, in fact, be killing me. I mean that with all love and respect and thankfulness that she is positive for me and the both of us but one of these days I am going to kick her ass. Everything that was going on was a sign that AF was coming…or a sign that Jeremy jr was growing in my womb. I believed the first, Candi the second. I was right, she was wrong. We were both crushed. I HAD been having an ok day or 2 before I found out. I was getting in the Christmas spirit. I was thinking maybe my Christmas miracle was about to happen. Nope. The powers that be told me to go screw myself without a second thought. I should have known this was going to happen after I lost my temper with our car salesman (had to buy a new car the week before Christmas….ridiculous) and called him every name I could think of in a 5 second time span. That’s where my hormones come into play. I ripped this car salesman a new one. Tore him up one side and down the other. I didn’t stop there. I ripped my husband a new one. I ripped a sales guy at Verizon a new one for being a dick and ALMOST threw my phone at him but then I realized I couldn’t afford bail money if I did that.
So. The day the Mayans ran out of room on a rock and caused a lot of crack pots to believe the world would end, I went bat shit crazy. After the doctors and the Verizon incidents, we got in our new car and as I backed up to leave my phone went off. I had a new e-mail. YAY! Maybe this is the e-mail from the company I have been interviewing with for the past month, where I just had an interview with 2 of the owners and I am pretty sure I got this job. So sure in fact that I cleaned out my desk at my current job when I decided to “rage quit” because I only got a 15 cent raise because I am “too loud and don’t know how to stop talking.” I open up the e-mail with excitement. I read: Dear Kristen, Thank you for showing interest in the position however, we have chosen to go with the other candidate…. I stopped reading and threw my phone. I EXPLODED. If spontaneous combustion is real, I should have done it right then and there. My husband looked like he saw a bomb go off in his face and he knew the shock wave was coming for him. I honestly don’t remember the rest of that evening except I cried. I sobbed in fact. I sobbed like I did when we lost the baby. All my “new dreams” had been crushed again. I don’t really remember talking to anyone for a few days. I truly went off the deep end. I am really starting to question my mental stability these days. And of course, like clockwork, Aunt Flo came into town just in time for Christmas and caused me to be an emotional mess the entire holiday.

I read on theinfertilityvoice.com a post about the apocalypse and it really hit home for me. I mean, too close to home. She said: “There may have been moments in your own family building journey: a pregnancy loss, an adoption fall through, or even just another BFN – those days may have felt like your own personal End Times. We don’t need prophets and wackadoos telling us the world is going to end when many of us have lived through a monthly apocalypse of our own.” Amen sister. That is the truth. Many people don’t understand this. They think we are the wackadoos (I am one but still…) My world ended again on Friday the 21st which is freaky but just happened to be a coincidence. The 22nd I woke up and started fresh even though I didn’t really want to. All week I thought about how I shouldn’t be getting another BFN. I should be holding a beautiful baby boy in my arms. I should be fighting for sleep. I should be recovering from bringing new life into this world. Instead, I was crying because of grief. I was trying to make new memories to help heal the scars of my loss. I went to church hoping that I can find my faith that I have lost track of and need to find again. I spent time with my best friend and her family and made fun memories. But I never forgot what I was trying to heal from.
My 2 best friends bought me gifts for Christmas that were perfect. Hilarious and perfect. Candi bought me a book called “I hate everything.” It is perfect. When I start getting upset, I pick this book up and read a few pages and laugh. She knows me way too well. Calley bought me this box that says “Friends will help you up when you fall, but best friends will push you back down and laugh.” Inside she put fertility rocks and crystals and said to put them by my bed since they are supposed to do something. I have 2 of the most amazing friends anyone could ask for. I have an amazing husband (even though sometimes he’s a jerk but he’s working on it and I’m working on not being such a psycho bitch….) and I am very lucky.

Even though my world ended again on the 21st I am very lucky. I’m alive. I have my loved ones, my home, my fur-babies, a job, and a car we are paying way too much for. I am very lucky.

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Link

Lotus Be’s 12 Days of Christmas Giveaway

(Click on the above link to go to Lotus Be Infertility and Miscarriage Awareness foundation’s Facebook page.)

Today starts our 12 days of Christmas giveaway!!

Here’s how it will work. 1 like= 1 entry, 1 share = 1 entry. Entries will count for that day’s prize only. Winners will be drawn around 8PM EST daily. Prizes tie in with the actual 12 Days of Christmas lyrics, but have a twist. You won’t know the giveaway of the day until that morning. I’m a little behind today, but will be posting momentarily. Good luck and Merry Christmas and Happy holidays!!

Give me the chocolate and I will only slightly harm you.

A normal woman has her monthly “visit” every 28-30 days, give or take a few days.  I don’t unless it’s medically induced. That’s the wonderful part of having PCOS (please read that as sarcastically as you choose.)  I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I “started” but I think I was 11 or 12.  From the jump it was never normal.  I never knew when it was coming.  I lived in fear from the time I was 8 years old when my mother explained what she used those sticky pieces of paper for.  I would go to the bathroom in 2nd grade and check every day because I was petrified I would have blood coming from an unholy place and then I would have a baby.  I don’t know how I missed that middle step of what makes a baby.  I think my mom left that part out.  I do, however, remember being at my grandma’s house one hot summer day getting ready to go to my father’s house in a cute little outfit of white shorts and a tank top.  I got out of the lake after swimming and when I went to change I saw red…literally.  I figured then life was over.

Here I am, 16 years later…it pains me to say that by the way…wishing I had a normal, reliable, regular cycle.  It may make this baby thing a bit easier.  The thought never entered my mind that being so screwed up in the reproductive area would result in difficulty conceiving a baby.  Since we began our journey of trying to get pregnant, my doctors have tried everything from Clomid and Provera to what we are doing now which is just Letrozole (Femara) every month and then my cycle restarts like clock work if I am not pregnant.  It is not, however, the same every month.  I don’t know how many women are going through what I am going to explain but if there is just 1 person out there then I know I am not just nuts.
(This is where, if you are my brother, you stop reading unless you already have and then if your wife is reading this you should gross him out with all of the gross details because I like to watch him squirm.)

Ever since losing the baby in June I have had ridiculously odd flows.  I went from having a d&c to not bleeding much afterwards which the doctor told me was weird.  He put me on birth control to keep my cycles coming in normal fashion.  Once that started I again had really light periods.  Then 2 months later I believe, it was like Hiroshima hit my pants.  I woke up one morning covered in blood.  I honestly thought I was hemorrhaging.  That was when the life altering, doubling over in pain cramps started.  I figured maybe I would have one bad one then I would be ok.  Boy was I wrong!  They seem to go in their own little circle of hell.  I have a really light one then a horrible one then a “normal” one.  Life still revolves around my uterus even when I am not trying to fill it with life.  I carry ample protection.  When I cleaned out my purse today I counted 6 pads and 3 tampons.  That’s not normal either but I really don’t know what to expect from one moment to another.

This month when I found out I wasn’t pregnant but my uterine lining was really thick according to the ultrasound, I figured it would be ugly.  Like the nastiest fight scene in 300 and it would last for what seemed like an eternity and I would be a millionaire after my husband bought stock in Kotex.  Again I was wrong.  I have no clue what is going on in there but I will tell you that it is complete and utter BS.  My uterus is a bitch.  Not only do I feel like I didn’t get a good flush and fill but I feel like I got screwed for December.  I am concerned that because it’s not all out of there I will have no luck trying this month and I will have the worst cycle on Christmas.  Merry freakin’ Christmas baby, you aren’t gettin’ any.
I have talked about this with my fertility doctor.  He has a penis.  He only looks at vagina.  He thinks I am insane.  I think he is an ass…sometimes.  I think it may be time to revisit the subject with him but it concerns me that he will want to do another biopsy on my uterus.  If you have had one of those done, you know why I have a severe panic attack at even the mere thought of that procedure.  It feels like a red-hot poker stabbing you in your most precious of areas and then radiating pain all the way into your chest cavity.  This all happens in about 4 seconds but it’s enough to make you want to kick the doctor in the face while simultaneously vomiting on the person holding your hand.
So, we are back to square one.  We decided to go ahead with trying again this month with just the pills again.  January 1st our medical stuff restarts and we will be able to actually “afford” treatments…the ones that will probably land me in jail because I will become a raging lunatic on hormone shots every day for a month.

Anyway, that is my rant about my monthly.  As every other woman in the world does, I hate it.  I wish I could pull a Michelle Duggar and just keep on poppin’ out the babies and get TLC to follow me with a camera to show how amazing I am at being a mother to my 19 kids and counting…but I got screwed by genetics or probably by my fat.  Today I blame my fat.  I leave you with this amazing image.  It describes exactly what my house is like for approximately 3-7 days a month every month until I get so lucky as to get pregnant and STAY pregnant.  And then I will just keep on making that happen because I would rather push a watermelon through a tiny hole than bleed every month.  It’s late, I’m rambling, Good night.