It’s been a while: Some exciting news and some boring stuff

It’s been a while since we’ve posted anything. It’s definitely not due to lack of things to say. Sometimes it’s just better to  leave things unsaid. I’ll fill you in on what’s been going on with me and Kristen can fill you in whenever she’s ready. We aren’t leaving out any juicy news or anything. Don’t worry.

So where are we now? By “we” I mean my happy little family. As far as I know, baby is doing well. Today is 18weeks 6 days. That means I am 1 week and 1 day out from the switch from miscarriage to stillbirth territory. Yes, I have been dreading it. God forbid I lose another baby, but if I do, I at least want to make it to 20 weeks. I understand it’s horribly morbid, but stillbirth seems to hold more weight than a miscarriage does, when it comes to public opinion. I still hate talking about my pregnancy to most people. I hate when people ask about it. I hate it all. I should be so excited right? I mean this is what I’ve wanted for so long, but the truth is, I don’t think I’ll be able to breath until I have a healthy, happy baby in my arms. I’m fearful. I’m scared. I’m terrified. Maybe when I start feeling some more movement I’ll feel a little better. Right now I’ve got a couple little bubbles every now and then, but nothing that I’m absolutely sure is baby. Our ultrasound is at the end of the month, so I’ll fill you in if we are having a little miss or a little mister soon! So far, pregnancy after loss is awful when it comes to fears. I just can’t seem to relax and enjoy it at all. I’m waiting for July with open arms.

In other news: Chris and I are getting married!! He asked me about a week and a half ago as we were starting to move into our new house. Yup. We moved. I think I told you that we were planning on it, but we finally got *mostly* moved in this past weekend. So we’re moved, unpacking, getting married, and having a baby! Talk about crazy busy. We haven’t discussed the wedding in too much detail since we’ve been mainly focused on the move, but it’ll probably be this summer before baby is born. It’ll just be a small ceremony, maybe at the courthouse, followed by a smallish reception. We just moved and we’re having a baby, therefore, we are poor. At least poor in the sense of not having a multi-thousand dollar wedding!

I’m taking Chris on his first ever plane ride at the end of the month, too! Engagement, babymoon, our 2 year anniversary, and ultrasound all in one month! Awesome! We’re going to Kansas City to visit my far away best friend who is 5 weeks more pregnant than I am. We almost always have a trip together (Liz and I) for our birthdays, since we are so close together (February 3 and March 3rd.) We’ve got a trip to The Melting Pot planned and lots of fun Kansas City stuff to enjoy. I’m looking forward to the BBQ! I haven’t been to KC since the weekend I met Chris 2 years ago.  I met him on a Friday, left on Saturday for a week in KC, and have only been a part from him maybe 2 weeks total since then. Ain’t love grand 🙂

Well, I think that’s all for now. I’ll try and keep you updated a little better next time.

Sam and me 2.5 weeks ago

Sam and me 2.5 weeks ago



Note* This blog was started on Friday, the 25th: It’s late and again I can’t sleep. I have taken my pregnancy safe Unisom in hopes of getting some much needed rest, so until it kicks in- I’ll blog. I’ve had the flu the past two days and so that’s been fun. Tomorrow is the much dreaded day of what should be Mason’s birth. Granted, hardly any babies come on their actual due date, but it’s the closest thing I’ve got to knowing when he should be in my arms. It’s also my grandpa’s birthday. Two of my angels, celebrating in Heaven, together. I’ve been anxious about this day since the beginning. It’s one of those milestone markers that you face after a loss. You know the ones: first time saying your baby died.  The first time going back to your doctor. The first time starting your period again. The time when you should be so many weeks along. The due date. And finally, the anniversary of the loss date. There may be more, but right now in my broken, jumbled brain- these seem like the biggies.

For those of you that have been following our stories, you know that my pregnancy with Mason presented a few additional challenges. I was due 2 weeks after a friend and 2 weeks before a cousin. I found out about my cousin’s pregnancy after having lost Mason. I also was to attend the wedding of a pregnant friend only a couple days past my D&C. I was unable to make it to the wedding, but did get to go up for some quite time after the ceremony.  Three weeks ago, my friend delivered her chunky little boy, Liam. I handled that pretty well. I was prepared. I had expected it.

As I’m sitting here typing this, the news has already been spread and photos are being shared of the 2 week early, tiny little Morgan. In all honesty, I had forgotten, just temporarily, that another baby was to make her way into this world. I was wrapped up in honoring Mason. I was planning his day. January 26. A day when I could grieve and honor him simultaneously. And then there was Morgan. I wasn’t prepared for her arrival. When I was anticipating it, I had time. I could get through tomorrow, Mason’s day, and then prepare myself for Morgan’s birth.

I am glad that my mom called me to let me know of the news before I found out any other way. I was helping Emily with her homework and as I was hanging up the phone, my voice cracked. I took a deep breath and swallowed my pain. Chris asked who it was and what was said. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it (meaning I didn’t want to talk about it that second in front of the girls because it was almost dinner and I wouldn’t be able to pull myself back together.) I put it my grief in a box and threw it away somewhere. We sat down to eat dinner as a family- Chris, the girls and me. I didn’t make it long though before I had to excuse myself. I went upstairs, laid in my bed with my head buried under a pillow like an ostrich and sobbed. Apparently, I didn’t throw that box far enough away. I muffled my tears for about 10 minutes, composed myself again, and went back downstairs.

*I can now feel my Unisom starting to kick in and everyone else is already in bed, the dog included. I’ll take a short break here, 24 minutes until Mason’s day, and be back to you in the morning. *Don’t worry, luckily for you I’m not posting until the whole blog is written, so you won’t even notice the time difference. It will just make more sense to you when I say today as opposed to tomorrow. Good night friends*

*Another note: it’s now Wednesday! I came back to you on Sunday to finish up and my blog had been mostly deleted and the revisions section was gone. Dangit WordPress!! I wasn’t able to get my blog back until now, but I digress…*

So here we are on Wednesday. It’s been a few days since Mason’s day, which was Saturday. I surprised myself and made it through the day with few tears. Mostly, I sat quietly on Facebook or Pinterest and blocked out the feelings. I didn’t really do anything to honor my son, which I regret. I just couldn’t handle it; I don’t think. I did tell him I missed him and that I loved him. I did make it through the day. I did survive. Today is week 14 with the little one and I think Mason would want me to enjoy this pregnancy. He’d want me to be happy and optimistic. I think that is how I will honor my son and my daughter: enjoying every moment I have with this one. ❤ Mason and Jordan, Momma loves you. We’ve made it through the rain and now we are working on our rainbow.



Mason’s day: Missing my son

I’m mental.

For the last few days I have been sick. Generally feeling like crap. I don’t know if I got a little of that flu bug or if I just have been so ridiculously depressed that my body is succumbing to my mental inadequacies. Either way, it was not fun. I was to the point yesterday where I didn’t care what happened. I cried all day long. I would be fine and then I would get a text from Candi, my husband, or a message at work from Trisha and I would have a mental breakdown. All day long. I have been trying to figure out if it’s PMS or if it’s hormonal because maybe, just maybe, this cycle worked and I got pregnant so I have a little alien leaching off my brain stem. Of course I am hoping for the latter but who knows.

This is what kicked off this post. During all the crazy and not feeling well I kept feeling as though I had cramps. I never used to get cramps before I lost our baby. I very rarely knew when Aunt Flow was coming for a visit unless I checked the app I have for that. Now I get cramps. Normally, I would say women are giant babies when they get them if they call off of work or don’t function and only stay in bed until they are gone. I apologize to everyone for thinking that. I have never had so much physical pain until I got cramps. So just thinking I had cramps made me mad. I knew I would be irritable and not very happy until they were gone. Then a funny thing happened. I didn’t have cramps. I was confused. I figured I was trying to make myself have them because I did something stupid. I never test before I go to the doctor to find out if I’m pregnant or not but this cycle I tested 5 days early. My TTC rule #28483 don’t do that!!! It’s just dumb. I get upset and possibly it’s wrong.

Fast forward to this morning. Again I think I have cramps. But I don’t. Do you know those crazy women that trick their bodies into acting like they are pregnant? I feel like I’m doing that. I have had the stomach flu, I’m nervous about an interview I have this afternoon, I am super stressed out, and I am 2 days from the start of my cycle. Maybe it is cramps. I can’t decide. I don’t have all the normal symptoms I get before I start. The symptoms haven’t changed in months but I wouldn’t be surprised if they did this month just to piss me off. I keep gagging and feeling like I’m going to throw up. I never throw up. Yeah, I may have thrown up with the flu but this is different. But again, I’m mentally screwed so I’m probably bringing this upon myself.

So here I sit. 2 days before I’m supposed to start my period, apparently wishing cramps on myself. I am incredibly insane…which I can attribute to many things. Which, by the way, I need to apologize to everyone who has been in the path of my rage. There is a list so long that it would take me an hour to write. But, I’m sorry. I have way too much on my plate and I’m pretty sure my husband is moments away from committing me to the psych ward. I hear it’s nice there. They give you the good drugs.

We aren’t going to try next cycle. We are going to do another hsg (dye into the uterus which clears out blockages) and birth control so that I can get my mental faculties back. If you have ever done months of treatments before you know how crazy you can get with the extra hormones. If you know me at all, you know how absolutely nuts I am WITHOUT the hormones…it’s better for all involved. I don’t feel like me and I’m losing grip on reality. We both think this is a good idea before I do end up in a straight jacket or in a clock tower somewhere. Here’s to a much saner month and less crazy in the future. Also, here’s to another wasted cycle. I know I haven’t been checked but I am supposed to start on Sunday and my doctor’s appointment is Monday….I have a strong feeling that, because it’s the grossest thing in the world to me, I will have to have an internal ultrasound while bleeding like a stuck pig. It’s just how my luck runs.

Letter to my little one: For when you doubt my love

Good morning sunshine! Right now we are 12 weeks pregnant. That means that you have been growing for 10 weeks now. I’m still not feeling well yet, but I’m cherishing every moment I have with you, because I know how precious every minute is. If we haven’t told you yet, but I’m sure we have, you actually have 4 older siblings! You have your two sisters, Brooke and Emily, that you are well aware of. You also have your sister, Jordan, and your brother, Mason. We lost both of them before they were born and we miss them every day. So far, I’ve gotten to spend more time with you than I have with either of them. Thank you for hanging in there!

When we first found out I was pregnant with you, my doctor (who I adore!) told me that my blood work didn’t look good, and to be prepared that we might lose you. I was devastated. I sat in her office and cried hysterically, as she continued the conversation with another concern. If we did in fact lose you, she wanted us to take some time out from trying to have another baby. She was worried that I may not be able to handle another loss, mentally. I could barely wrap my head around the fact of losing yet another child, let alone not being able to try again for an undermined about of time. Luckily, your dad vetoed that idea. He knew how much we wanted you and taking time off wasn’t an option.

As I was waiting over an hour (and the longest hour of my life) to have more blood drawn, I asked your dad if we could let every one know that we were pregnant. I felt strongly that we either needed prayers, support, or both. He said to do whatever I felt I needed to do. Right there, at the doctors office, at 4 weeks pregnant, I told the world about you. I posted a message on Facebook for all the good thoughts and prayers our family and friends could muster. I told them how much I loved you and how I didn’t want to have to lose another baby. If you were going to go to Heaven, they would at least know the depth of my love for you, in the short time you were with us. At that moment I prayed a prayer I had never prayed before. I told God that you were His. He was in control of your destiny and that if he was going to take you, I’d let you go. I wouldn’t be happy about it though. I left this pregnancy up to Him.

I got my blood taken and the next day the doctor called with some good news. You were growing! Prayers and good thoughts continued to come in. My hormone levels were increasing the way they were supposed to, but we weren’t safe yet. I had blood drawn every day for a week. Each time the news was better and better! We made it to 6 weeks, when I lost Jordan- milestone. I heard your heartbeat and saw your picture- milestone. We made it to 9 weeks 4 days, when I lost Mason- milestone. We just made it to 12 weeks- milestone!

On Monday, your dad and I will get to see you again. It will have been 6 weeks since we’ve seen you last. You’ve grown a lot since then. They say you are about the size of a lime, but I don’t believe it. I check your heartbeat every few days, just to be sure, but you seem to be doing great! I can’t wait to see you, baby!

Now you may wonder someday, when did I first know that I wanted you. Well, always. There has never been a time that I questioned if I wanted to have kids or not. Not even for a second. I really knew and began thinking and planning about you when I was 14. I would watch a talk show called Maury. He had teens on his show that really wanted to have babies. They were trying hard to get pregnant and they were only the same age that I was! I really wanted you then, but I was smart enough to wait. I wanted to be married. I wanted to have a job. I wanted to be able to take care of you. No matter what though, I knew I wanted you.

When I was 18, I got married. I had a job. I joined the military. I was so ready to bring you into my life! I prayed for you every night and wished upon every star. God had other plans, though I didn’t know it at the time. I spent the 5 years that I was married waiting for you. My ex-husband was manipulative and abusive. It would not have been a happy environment for you, little one. Looking back, I’m glad you waited to come.

Fast forward 5 years and here we are. We have your dad and Brooke and Emily. Oh and of course the dog, Sam. He loves kids. He thinks he is one, actually. We have two angel babies in Heaven, watching over you. You are already so loved and have been for so long. Your dad is an amazing man and I can’t wait for you to meet him. You will love him so much. He is kind, caring, strong, hard working, and he wants you just as much as I do! We are so happy to have you, baby. You were wanted for so long, and now here you are. We are counting down the days until we see your smiling face. You are loved. You are wanted. You are a dream come true and an answered prayer.

Love Always,



Insensitively: it’s how we roll

I am a very sensitive person. I do not have thick skin; I take things personally and I’m a crier. It’s common knowledge that we, as people, act differently depending on our situation. We may use different language and caution when dealing with superiors or strangers than if we were interacting with our close friends and family. I know Kristen and I told you that we’ll keep things uncensored, but there is a line we try not to cross. However, a can of worms was opened in a post a while back. You may at times find us insensitive and absurd; you may even lose respect for us. As business owners, our lives our out there for the public to see. We want to share our stories with you first hand, so that there is no misunderstanding in the future. We aren’t perfect. We’re human.

Kristen told you in a previous post, back when we were working at the flea market, that we called my cousin a whore. Please know, 1) we said it to her face, 2) we said it in jest, 3) we do not mean that she is literally a whore, 4) we do not discriminate: all pregnant women and women with children that we know (and love) are aware that we call them whores. We use it as a term of endearment. And maybe also out of jealousy.

Like previously mentioned, we act differently when faced with different situations and different people. After a loss, we grieve. Each person grieves differently. Kristen and I make ourselves feel better by saying since we aren’t teenagers or whores, we can’t stay pregnant. We constantly joke that if we were whores, maybe we’d have babies too… Well it was that month, after my “whore” cousin wished baby juju on us and Chris joked about giving me money after sex, that I did indeed get pregnant. I am now a whore, and proud of it! Maybe we were right after all!

***We know that teenagers and women who get pregnant unplanned also experience loss and complications. Pregnancy loss, stillbirth, and infant loss do not discriminate. It’s a difficult process for anyone involved, whether your pregnancy was planned or not. We are not being hateful, we are just telling you how we are coping, hoping you can see the difference between a joke and actual hate.***

It all started when I lost Mason. Chris was trying to make me feel better and he mentioned that no one ever said growing a human was easy. Through my tears, I responded with, “except for teenagers and whores.”

We live in a society that glamorizes teen pregnancy and almost encourages single parenthood by way of government assistance. I know some very good moms that got pregnant at teenagers and I also know some really bad ones. I actually have a cousin who will becoming a grandma in her early 30s because her stepson (16) is having a baby with his girlfriend (15) in March. Of course they had no problems with their pregnancy.

Chris and I plan to get married sometime in the future, but we would technically be better off financially, if we didn’t. I could apply for Medicaid and WIC, if not other government assistance programs. **Please, don’t think that I am putting down single parents or those who need government assistance. I am for government assistance when needed. I am going to school to be a social worker- I deal with government assistance. Chris is a bricklayer who builds houses in low-income neighborhoods. I am a disabled veteran. I receive government benefits. I know some pretty kick-ass single moms (and dads). Government assistance is awesome, when not used as a way of life.

I don’t remember how it happened, but shortly after the loss of Mason, the “whore” fad exploded. I made an e-card that I’ve received a lot of hate and mean comments over, but if you’re insulted, screw you- you’re probably a whore. 😉


Holidays and the blues

I am a pessimist.  Always have been, always will be.  I think this is part of the reason why I despise the holidays.  My husband, poor Jeremy, gets the brunt of this.  Trying to get pregnant takes a toll on everyone in the family when emotions cloud joy and happiness.  I used to love the holidays.  I probably would already have the house decorated, complete with tree and outside lights.  Usually I have the holiday dinners at my house every year but this year is different.
When we found out I was pregnant in April, one of the very first things I said was “HEY! This baby will be here right around Christmas!!” and my husbands quick response was “And you will not be 9 months pregnant entertaining the entire family in our house!”  That was perfectly fine with me.  Not knowing if I would be in the hospital having a baby or so tired that I couldn’t cook the normal feast for 15 people made the proclamation from Jeremy completely acceptable.  When we lost the baby in June I realized that this plan was probably still the best idea.  I knew the holidays would be difficult…way more difficult than usual.  I always get incredibly stressed out starting right about now and the stress doesn’t end until the end of the last night of Christmas celebrations.  As I worked through my grief in the past few months I thought it wouldn’t be so bad.  I tried to tell myself I could get through it with the support from my husband.  He said our house would be our “safe haven” when I start feeling overwhelmed we could come home to our quiet house with our fur-babies and relax.  Now, 2 days before Thanksgiving, I don’t want to leave my house.  I wake up in the morning with this overwhelming feeling of despair but I pick myself up, go to work, and try to make the best of this life I am living.
To make things worse, my appointment with my RE is scheduled for tomorrow.  I told the receptionist that this was a cruel joke to give me shit news right before a day of thanks.  She reminded me that it’s not always negative news she gives me and to try to be positive.  As I said earlier this month, I was trying not to think about it.  I tried not to care.  That didn’t work so well for me this month.  Every day, at one moment or another, I would think about the test.  I would think about the fact that I would probably be pissed off tomorrow afternoon.  So, I created projects for myself to keep me busy as best I could.  I stayed in a good mood.  I kept my bitching to a minimum.  I tried not to think about the possible cramps or the other feelings you get when you are about to get your monthly curse.
Today was a great day at work.  I laughed, got a big part of a project done, got a hug from a very unexpected person who has WAY more crap going on in her life right now than I do (not to mention she’s a mean ass old lady), and I looked forward to coming home to my husband who is on vacation.  When I got home, I started getting upset.  I started losing my temper.  I caught myself becoming a witch.  I know the signs of PMS.  I know how I get and how my body gets when it gets near to that time of the month.  Right now, I am fighting it.  I don’t know if you can fight a menstrual cycle but dammit I am trying.

I promise my mom I would cook the turkey, ham, mashed potatoes and bake 3 pies.  I feel like a dumbass for agreeing to it because I really don’t want to do any of it.  So that’s where I sit.  At this exact moment I hate my body, my ovaries, my uterus, the holidays, and pretty much anything else that is going on at the moment.  I know we are trying to keep this light and humorous but sometimes that is just physically impossible.  I wanted to let you readers know that you don’t have to be ok all of the time.  If you feel like throwing a freshly roasted turkey at a wall, it’s normal. I considered asking my husband if we could go out into the country with a bag of potatoes and have target practice.  The holidays are difficult for a lot of people and I want you to know that I am right there with you.  There is no shame in grieving even if the grief is from a day ago or 35 years ago.

The cliché thing to say is “be thankful for what you have.”  Yeah. Do that but take care of yourself as well.  Try not to worry about what others are thinking of you when you avoid a family function because seeing someone may make it that much more difficult for you not to start the family brawl before the gravy hits the table.
Try to relax (hahahaha yeah…I know) and make your holidays the best you can for you.  I will probably just eat all of the food and stuff myself until I pass out and don’t wake up until Monday morning.
Much love and hugs.

Being thankful doesn’t mean I’m happy

But I am. Currently. So, before my body goes and confirms that I am in fact not pregnant this month and throws me into a temporary depression, I want to take a minute (or a few) to express how much I have to be grateful for. I will continue to be thankful, even through any sadness I may yet encounter. First know in life, I have been dealt a raw deal, many times. I was in an abusive marriage. I am clinically depressed. I struggled with self-injury. I have a laundry list of health issues. I was left by my fiancée months before our wedding, without warning. I have lost two babies and am waiting impatiently for my third pregnancy. I pray to God it ends with a healthy baby in my arms. You know what? Actually looking back at this hand in life that I feel I have unfortunately been dealt, it doesn’t seem so bad at all. I have a wealth of blessings that far out weigh the badness that has happened.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe in God and that all things happen for good for those who believe in him. Not one of the issues I have listed above do I regret. Not one of those things can I not find the silver lining.

I was in an abusive marriage: because of this I joined the military. The military has given me adventure, friendship, education, health benefits, and life experience.

I am clinically depressed: I suffered a long time in silence before I was diagnosed and treated. This goes along with the self-injury issue. I have spent many hours in utter heartbreak and emotional struggles before I was prescribed meds and a therapist. I take away a sense of empathy. I feel that I have been given a better understanding of peoples emotions. I am willing to put my story out there in an attempt to let others know they are not alone. If my pain helps even one person,  I think it’s worth it.

My health issues: they range from hip problems to allergies to migraines to sleep issues to asthma etc. This one is a little harder to find the silver lining, but it could be worse.  I have all of my own parts and pieces. I am able to walk, see, touch, and take care of myself. I am able to experience life.

My fiancée left me: but I ended up with a man that couldn’t have been more perfect for me had I created him myself. Chris has been my rock. My source of laughter and joy. My cheerleader. My lover. My best friend.

I have lost two babies: without my love and eventually grief that came from Jordan and Mason, Lotus Be Infertility and Miscarriage Awareness Foundation would have never came about. Yes, it did also involve the loss of Kristen’s son at the same time. I feel if it had only been one of us- we wouldn’t have this same drive and passion for spreading the word on infertility and miscarriage and giving women hope and a place to share their stories.

There is a silver lining in all the bad I have experienced, but I said there is even more that I am grateful for. I have a full time job. I have a roof over my head. My bills are paid. I have a supportive and loving family and friends. I am co-owner of a wonderful company. I have gotten to travel. I have Chris’s two daughters that I love as if they were my own. I am alive. I am well. I have so many things that others would die to have. I have freedom of speech and religion. I have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I do not want for anything, except a child. I may not have it all, but I have so much. I am blessed; I am thankful, and at this moment, before my body betrays me again, I am happy.

You know you are dealing with infertility when….

I know I will miss some things that many people dealing with infertility see.  If you think of more, let me know.  I only know from what I experience and what I read.

You know you are dealing with infertility….
1) When your life revolves around your reproductive organs.  My uterus and ovaries tell ME when they want something.  My follicles tell me when I have to get shots and when I have to force my husband to perform his marital duties.  The medications I take are on a strict schedule.  My RE appointments are how I plan my day.

2) You spend every waking moment wondering what that twinge was.  As I type this, I am concerned with the status of my ovaries.  I am wondering if I have, in fact, just ovulated or if my follicles are growing into “nice, fat, juicy eggs” as my doctor calls them.  I think about the burning I had on the right side and wonder if that was another follicle or if I had gas.  Don’t even get me started on my boobs.  Those bad boys take a sharp pain and I immediately think there was an immaculate conception.

3) You have an un-natural bond with the vaginal ultrasound wand.  The fact that you have this thing digging around in there looking for signs of anything can be humiliating.  When you first meet Mr. Wand, you are shy and timid and have a little difficulty allowing him to do his job.  After I would say the first 3 months of being shy, you shed all of your inhibitions and you walk in the ultrasound room and before the nurse can say “Undress from the waste down” you are waiting covered in a paper blanket and ready to get it over with.  That wand gets more action than….well…everything.

4) You know every single fact about your diagnosis.  Unless it’s unexplained and that is a whole other ball of wax.  If you have a solid diagnosis, you are almost more knowledgable about causes and treatments than your doctor and sometimes you can mess with their heads if you can give them solid information they don’t have.  I personally enjoy debating the statistics with my doctor.  That’s a fun time.  Also, when giving advice to friends and other IF people, you can tell exactly where they are in their journeys by what treatments they have done and what drug dosage they are on.

5) If you happen to have a friend TTC at the same time you are, most likely you talk about your cycles a lot.  Not only do you talk about cycles but you discuss “relations”.  Example: Candi is trying again.  I know what cycle day she is on, the status of her OPK’s, and limited details of her sex life.  In fact, on multiple occasions in the past few days I have told her to go get it on with her man.  NEVER would I have thought that I would know when someone was getting lucky nor have I ever imagined that I would be cheering them on once the deed was done and reported back to me.  I also report to her.  It’s like a fact checking system or something.

6) You know what cervical mucus is and you know how to check it.  I won’t go in to details because even I have trouble with this topic.

7) You have been told at least once “You can always just adopt.”  Well, yes, thank you.  I hadn’t considered this option every time I got a negative test or been told we missed the timing this month.  Or hey, even when I was told that getting pregnant was going to be very difficult I forgot there are millions of children waiting for homes.  This thought crosses my mind everyday.  Trying to adopt is like trying to get pregnant.  It doesn’t always happen the first time.  There are failed attempts.  It costs a butt load of money.  My DH and I looked into it and found that in order to have a newborn infant adoption completed it costs close to $20,000.00, international adoption $30,000.00 give or take several thousand dollars.  Domestic adoption of a child from “infancy” to 18 costs a few thousand unless you do the foster to adopt thing and then you can get in the program for less but your chances of actually getting a child that will be “ok” in your home right away are slim to none.  I am not bashing adoption.  We are probably going to go that route if I don’t get pregnant again here very soon.  I’m just saying, it’s not something you just do.

8) You have hormones and you know how to use them.  Or you have no idea they are going to hit you and you become insane.  That’s what I do.  I go nuts for a few days.  Once the first set of hormones are done I move to the 2ww hormones.  Those are a monster.  You mix in some pms in there? That man of yours is in for a treat.  And men, don’t think about hiding…no.  Even if we say “get the hell away from me”, don’t.  If you value your life, don’t.

9) You know your spouse/significant others sperm count…or your donors sperm count.  I know for a fact that my husband could single-handedly (hahaha that made me laugh) repopulate the world if there was a world crisis and his sperm was the only thing could fix it.  I also know how well those babies move and swim.  Mobility and motility.  If you haven’t gotten to the point in your journey where your husband can give you a “sample” without so much as a slight glance of discomfort, then he hasn’t had to offer up his seed enough.  I hand my DH a cup and say “you have 5 minutes before I leave the house.”  Poor guy doesn’t know what romance is anymore.  It’s either a sterile cup or “wham bam thank you ma’am” and I’m laying with my feet in the air meditating and willing the smart ones to reach the egg in time.

10) You feel that the skill of peeing on a stick may be on your next resume.  I know I have mastered the art of pos.  When I got pregnant in March, I didn’t believe the doctor.  I took 27 hpt’s because I thought I would wake up one day and it would all be a dream.  I think next time I get pregnant I will just believe them.  Had I not been so lucky to get all of those tests for free from work, DH and I would have been buying stock in EPT.

11) Last thing for now that proves you know you are dealing with infertility.  You know every single abbreviation I have put in this post.  You may even use them in spoken word.  I know what a text from Candi means if it says “OPK is +. bbd tonight. this better make a sticky bean b/c I’m tired of ttc.”  That’s like infertility shorthand.

Tell me your signs…I have so many more but if I go on any longer I may miss my LH surge.

Baby dust and other crazy ideas

If you read Candi’s last post, you saw the term “baby dust.”  I felt the need to expand on baby dust and explain what it is.

First, no, it is in fact NOT dust made from babies of any kind.  To normal people, that seems like a horrible thing to even say or write but if it passed through my mind I can guarantee it has crossed someone elses mind.  Baby dust is a term of sort made up by the TTC (trying to conceive) community to show support and positive thoughts.  It’s like saying “I’m sending you good thoughts” or something to that effect.  I realized that many people don’t know this term when I said to my sister-in-law I had a great idea about making a tangible baby dust item for our website to sell for fundraising.  After I was so excited about the idea she told me she had no clue what I was talking about.  I became frustrated because I thought it was a common term because I hear it and use it often.  Obviously to a person that doesn’t troll forums about infertility and making babies and being pregnant and so forth, it sounds like the insanity has finally set in.  To me, the person saying I am crazy happens to be crazy.

So, the term “baby dust” is easy to understand.  Candi and I decided we needed tangible baby dust so we can send a physical representation of good thoughts to people…when they pay for it.  We have possibly the cutest bottles of “baby dust” ever to grace the earth.  I am personally excited about them because they were one of my good ideas.  Of course, Candi took the idea and made them happen and made them absolutely adorable which I think she does to make me crazy.  I try a craft and it sucks.  She tries and she’s freakin’ Martha Stewart.


Since we now have “baby dust” on hand, I have constant thoughts of bathing in it.  I often consider dumping it in my bed and sleeping in it.  None of these options have been proven to work so, since I am not a trend starter, I will wait for someone else to let me know how it works for them.

I hope this helps people unfamiliar with this idea grasp that most women who are trying to get pregnant are nuts.  I am the first to admit I am a basket case.  When your life goes from normal day-to-day happenings to constant charting, endless doctors appointments, shots of chemicals you would never consider putting in your body…unless it was to have that smooshed up wrinkly baby, and so many other things I will explain later…you become insane.   I have said before I feel like a walking science experiment.  I just add baby dust to the mix to make myself feel like I have magic dust in my possession and when I tell my doctor my list of medications for the 400th time on Friday, I think I’ll add that just to confuse him.  It seems like the proper thing to do.

Sunshine and Unicorns

Candi told the truth.  No sunshine and unicorns.  If I had a unicorn, I would name him Stabby.  But I digress…

Today was one of those days that started out like any other.  I woke up late for work which is an everyday occurence.  Candi texted me to see if I was up for work.  I got ready and ran out the door and, as usual, my phone rang with a call from Candi.  Our usual commutes to work and school follow this routine unless I screw her day up and get up WAY too early just to get out of work or I have a doctor’s appointment.  Again, typical day.  Work, complain about work, get done with work, wait for Candi’s call and then I talk to Candi on my way home.  Today was grocery day.  I hate grocery day.  Candi and I chatted for a while and I got to shopping.  I knew I had to go to Wal-Mart for a prescription so I finished shopping and went to Wal-Mart.  Ladies and gentlemen, I have a love hate relationship with Wal-Mart.  The hate comes here in a minute.  I go to the pharmacy and they inform me of a 45 minute wait for 10 pills.  Begrudgingly I tell them I will wait and I begin to meander about the store.  I grabbed the food items that the “cheap store” didn’t carry and kept walking.  I needed cat food so as I purposefully walk around 10 extra isles in order to avoid the baby section, something catches my eye and I head towards babyville keeping my eyes down, slightly averting my gaze.  What I saw was completely irrelevant because at this point I had forgotten about it and was now staring at baby clothes.  Not just baby clothes but baby snow suits.

Now, if you have ever gone through fertility treatments for ridiculous amounts of time or lost a baby, you know that ANYTHING baby related makes waves of emotions sweep over you.  It’s completely normal, or so I’ve heard.  I have a really hard time seeing pregnant women, babies (especially tiny ones that are still wrinkled from being stuck inside liquid for 9 months), and baby clothes.  Snow suits make me mad because I would like nothing more than to have to carry around a star-shaped baby for the entirety of winter.  In order to avoid a panic attack, I walk away. My continued need to wait for this medication keeps me walking towards the Christmas aisle.  Again, I love Wal-Mart but….seriously…holly jolly go screw yourself.

Normally I am insane about Christmas for completely other reasons.  I love decorating, out-doing the neighbors, buying presents, wrapping them, trying to put red noses on my dogs, and all of that other happy horse crap (take no offense please).  This year I am Scrooge.  The reason is that our miracle baby was due on Christmas Eve give or take a few days.  I was so very pleased to be having at Christmas baby.  I was planning the holidays around baby coming.  We were so excited that I would be on maternity leave for the last month of the year because Jeremy wouldn’t have to hear me bitch about work being boring.   I walked in the department and saw a sign that said 53 days until Christmas.  I don’t think about Christmas.  I think about “53 days until I would have had our baby”.  Christmas is inevitable.  I know I should try to make the best of it and put on a happy face and try to not be miserable but….guess what…that is a little harder to do than I thought it would be.

So, I finish my shopping trip and pick up my meds which are the Letrozole pills that make me ovulate (yeah….my ovaries suck because of PCOS which I will explain another time).  I get home, start putting groceries away and I realize that I bought 2
dozen eggs.  As I am trying to shove them in my crowded refrigerator I realize I currently have 2 other cartons of eggs.  At the moment I have 50 eggs in my refrigerator.  My only thought was “my damn refrigerator is more fertile than I am…”