OOOOOOOOH I wish I had a…

Vaginal ultrasound machine. I actually sang this to the tune of the Oscar Myer bologna song. Try it! It really works well. A vaginal ultrasound machine takes the guess-work out of ovulation. There are other things I could do. For instance, I could buy OPK’s. Which I did from the dollar tree. I am too cheap and too poor to buy them from the real pharmacy where they have multiple sticks and you don’t have to provide your own cup. The results were that I was not having a LH surge, yet I feel like there is something going on with my ovary…particularly the left one.
With us being on a “break” so to speak from the fertility clinic, I took no ovulation inducer. I am off every type of hormone known to medicine aside from what my body does, or doesn’t in my case, create. This is why I would like a vaginal ultrasound machine. You can see any follicles on your ovaries. Unfortunately, these machines cost many thousands of dollars. You also would probably do best if you had an ultrasound tech that could read them (or a really great husband that would hold the wand where you tell him…HAH!) I also have the thought that my bff would be coming over for ultrasounds all the time (they do come with the non vaginal wands when you buy the machine) so we can make sure little dude is alright.

This whole thought has been going on all week. I should be ovulating at some point this week if I were going to ovulate. I have no idea if it’s worth it to stay up until the husband gets home to baby dance and then be so exhausted in the morning I can’t function. I’m not sleeping all that well but apparently when Jeremy came home the other night and tried to “wake me up”, I smacked the shit out of him. I recall none of this. His being on 2nd shift makes procreation a very difficult thing. He is either waking up in the middle of his “night”, meaning 6am, to give me a sample in a cup or I am staying up way too late, meaning 12-1am, to do the deed and plant his seed. This makes us both very cranky.
ANYWAY! If i just had access to my very own ultrasound machine I would be set. I would know when I could sleep and not worry that ovulation is occurring at every turn. I would also know when to make my husband do his duties as a man.

Normally, I wouldn’t be worried about ovulation without medication. However, I have lost 20lbs in the last month and the doctor told me that with every 10lbs I lose my chances of ovulating go up a good percentage. This means I may not have to go back and spend every last dime I have to get knocked up. Or I could save those pennies to have an ultrasound machine…

The good, the sad, and the ugly emotions.

I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I was laying in bed thinking how I have nothing good to blog about when I started getting emotional, all teary-eyed and brain-racy. Brain-racy leads to perfect blog material! Be warned, it’s a slightly long one.Today we are at 12 weeks 5 days, and we had our NT scan to test for Downs Syndrome. By “we” I mean Chris and I, even though he didn’t have to do anything but sit there. This would be the “good” part of my blog. The appointment literally lasted 5 minutes. The tech asked me for a urine sample before she did the ultrasound. She told me to pee in a Dixie cup. Now, I had just drank a bottle of water and a bottle of orange juice on the way over to try and counteract the Unisom I took to sleep last night, so I should be good to go, right? No. I’m guessing it was the whole peeing in a Dixie cup weirdness that was the cause. Who does that?! Anyway, we moved on to the ultrasound. The tech measured the amount of fluid behind the baby’s neck and it measured 1.4. Anything over a 3 is a higher chance of Downs. Don’t ask me “1.4 what?” because I don’t know. It could be millimeters, centimeters, or fluid ounces, I have no idea. I could Google it for you, but then I’d lose track of where I’m at. Back to the appointment- the tech checked the baby’s heart rate and it was a good 164. This is a little higher than normal, but I did just have that orange juice to try and wake it up. Little one didn’t do much but sit there on it’s back, though it did do a full body jump like a Mexican jumping bean that made me crack up laughing. The tech handed me a few pictures and sent me back to the waiting room to wait for blood work. I’d post more than one picture, but they all are identical, with the exception of the last one that just looks like a blurry blob.

Here (s)he is! 12 weeks 5 days. Little hands and little feet.

I get called back for my blood work. First stick goes in, but the blood doesn’t come out. Pump, pump, pump my fist, second stick goes in, blood comes out. It’ll be a week before we get the results. Doctor comes in, she says everything looks good, asks if I have any questions, and leaves. Now, I didn’t specifically come out and ask if my baby has a brain (if you read a few posts back you’d know about my fear and my drawn out plan just in case,) but she said everything looks good so I’m assuming yes. For those 30 minutes in the doctors office, I was calm. I was happy.

Now on to the “sad.” Once we got home, Chris said that he doesn’t think I can go through this whole pregnancy thing again. He had forgotten that he promised me we could have another baby after we buy a house, because I desperately want a nursery. Since we are moving to a two-bedroom house, we’ll have a room and the girls will have a room. Baby will sleep in our room. That means I don’t get a nursery in this house. No cutesy decorating and it makes me sad. What makes me sadder is that Chris says he doesn’t think I can go through this again. Which means, he doesn’t think he can go through it again. It’s probably a combination of my all-day sickness, my crazy hormonal mood swings, and my miscarriage and brainless fears. I’ve always wanted 4 babies: a boy, twin girls, and then another boy. I’ve had it planned out for years. Obviously, that didn’t happen and God has other plans, but I can’t accept that I’m done after only one. I feel slighted and hurt at the idea. I know it’s a while away yet, but I’m still saddened by the thought that he said no more. I guess we’ll wait and see.

Last, but not least, the “ugly” emotions.

I’ll bullet this section to make it easier to read. I know that jealousy is a bad emotion and I’m doing my best to control it. Don’t get all crazy preachy on me now.

  • I am jealous of pregnant women who did not lose babies or that didn’t have to try to get pregnant.
  • If I know you and you didn’t struggle, I am mad because I picture myself having yet another loss while you go on to have a happy, healthy pregnancy. I see your baby as a reminder of my sadness and pain and I am hurt and jealous.
  • If I know you and you have struggled, I couldn’t be happier for you. I praise your success and pray for a healthy outcome. I know what you’ve been through and I share your joy, as well as your fears.
  • If I don’t know you, this doesn’t really apply.
  •  I still check for blood every single time I go to the bathroom. Even though I have seen my baby growing and listened to it’s heartbeat, many times, I am still waiting for it all to end. I’ve played through it in my mind: what if?
  • I am jealous of those that are pregnant and haven’t tried because they don’t necessarily worry about loss. Especially after the first trimester. They get to hide their pregnancies as long as they’d like and enjoy every minute after they go public.
  • I actually get angry when people ask how things are going. Like it’s a bad omen or something. If we just don’t talk about it, then we can’t jinx it.
  • I’m angry if you announce your pregnancy publically, having known the struggles and losses that I’ve suffered, and don’t have the curtsey to tell me in private, before you share it with the world. This applies mostly to before I got pregnant, but to those of you that were pregnant before I was and I’m just now finding out, consider yourself included.
  • If I have congratulated you on your pregnancy after announcing mine, but you have yet to congratulate me, just know I was only being polite.

We still have 28 more weeks to go. 28 weeks of trying to keep the fears to a minimum, 28 weeks of trying to keep my jealousy at bay, 28 weeks of trying to keep my hormonal outbursts away from Chris, 28 weeks of faith and praying. Only one more week until Mason’s due date. Maybe after that my crazy will simmer down a bit. I sure as heck hope so, for everyone’s sake.

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,

Mom

 

Prepare to cry

Not so much a blog post today, just an update. If you haven’t noticed, Kristen and I have compiled a list of our favorite miscarriage and infertility songs on a tab called “Listen at your own risk.”  I have taken the liberty of adding all of the songs we’ve chosen into a YouTube playlist for your convenience. That way, you have access to them whenever you need a little inspiration or a really good cry. The link is on the “Listen at your own risk” page. Bring on the tears.

It’s a two parter!

So I suck at blogging everyday. It’s not that I’m not amazingly talented or super funny all the time. I just can’t put my thoughts into words very easily lately. I have had 3 job interviews and I go in very confident and I leave feeling like my IQ dropped 100 points in the interview room and I babbled like my 2-year-old niece.
Any who! It has been an interesting first 4 days of the year. I have only been to work 1 day this year which makes me smile every time I say that. As most people know we have not stopped fertility treatments. I took my Letrozole as prescribed days 5-9. I went to the doctor on day 12 which was yesterday. What happens is I get un ultrasound and blood work done. They check all the levels they need to. Progesterone, LH, and estrogen I think. I don’t know, I try not to ask. So yesterday, my doctor is still out-of-town on vacation and they have this “sub” ultrasound tech. She’s nice and all but she’s not my doctor. So they check my ovaries. Side note-I was concerned there would be no eggs because I wasn’t feeling the pinches I usually do on whichever side I am ovulating on. She checks my left side first. I immediately panic when I see not 1, not 2, not 3, not 4, not 5, but 6 follicles. NOW! Not every follicle will produce an egg. They have to be a certain size before they will pop out a mature egg that is viable for use. The size they should be is anywhere between 18 and 29mm in size and the ones on my left side were no larger than 11mm (this all depends on your doctor. Mine once let one get to 32mm before–no baby that month.) I was slightly unhappy but I realize that I am responding very well to this medication. She checks my right ovary. BAM! One big fat one! There were a couple little ones like on the left side but hey, 1 is all it takes. The nice big fat one was 19mm. The routine is to then get the hcg shot and ovulate and get inseminated the next day or do the wild thing for 4 days straight. This month my doctor said wait until tomorrow for the shot. For the last 4 months, these have been my exact results (minus the crazy amounts of eggs on one side.) I asked the girls why he decided that I needed to wait. They said that my numbers have been as close to identical as possible for the past 4 months and he wants to push it just a tad farther to get better results. So today I went back into the office (a 30 minute drive) and got another ultrasound and more blood work. You would be shocked to know that a follicle grows so quickly! Today the big fat juicy one measured 25mm. Go us! So I got my shot and informed the girls we would definitely be going forward with an insemination.
This means 2 things. Not only do the husband and I have to BBD for the next several days but he will have to wake up at about 6am and give me a sample of, what I call, my children. I will be at the office by 7am and they will “wash” the stuff and prep it for insemination. I like to say these sperm get a golden ticket. They pull a chance card and are allowed to pass go, collect their $200.00 and have fun racing to the finish line. There is nothing else to be done after this. I will lay on the table at the doctor’s office and go about my business…oh…and then start my 2ww. (I’m rolling my eyes if only you could see me…) So, there you have it. I will be inseminated like a cow only a farmer isn’t sticking his entire arm up my vag. A doctor gets to shove a catheter in there and splash me with a little Jeremy juice.

I told you this would be a 2 parter. It is but I really don’t want to write about this. I don’t believe dreams really mean anything except for your sub-conscience to make you paranoid while you sleep. I don’t really dream that often but when I do they are pretty rememberable. I know when I was pregnant I dreamt every night and they were such vivid dreams I would wake up and have to wake Jeremy up to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming.
Since I don’t really believe my dreams mean anything I don’t talk about them all that much. However, this dream freaked me out and I had to write it down. I couldn’t stop thinking of the baby we lost. I couldn’t stop imagining him. I couldn’t stop trying to picture his face or trying to feel how small he was or trying to hear him cry. Then all of a sudden he was there. Perfect and beautiful but I still couldn’t see his face. I could see his shape, his chunky arms and legs, his black hair and I could hear his little cries. I wanted to hold him but I couldn’t, someone was stopping me. I looked to see who was holding him and to talk some sense into them only to find out it was my uncle who had passed away almost 5 years ago. Sitting next to him was my grandfather smiling at him, speaking Hungarian to him and I understood everything he said. Next to them was a very dear family friend that just passed away last week. They were smiling at my son and telling him how amazing he was. Then my grandfather, who I never met because he died 8 years before I was born, said to me “We have him. He is ok with us. Your little boy is ok. Don’t worry. His brothers will come to you soon.” I started crying in my dream and said I want him now. I was told by my uncle that I needed to wait. He was needed with them and, again, his brothers would come to me soon. As they turned him around to show me his smile, this light almost blinded me and caused me not to be able to see his face. I told them I loved them all and I kept talking and was still crying. I woke up crying.
That has me completely freaked out. Like I said before, I don’t think about my dreams meaning anything but this was something I have never experienced before. I might need a psychic. I most likely need a psychiatrist. However, this gave me a strange feeling of relief. I felt this calm after I saw all of them with the baby. I know I only carried our son
until 10 weeks but he’s still my baby boy. And I got to see some folks I miss and love dearly.

So, there you have it. I’m insane. I have 2 weeks in front of me that I will be a nut job WARNING! WARNING! And I am in some strange way at peace now that my boy and my family are ok somewhere. So now, I will go make myself pancakes because they are calling to me. I saw them in a movie this afternoon and I can’t seem to get the taste out of my head. So excited for pancakes 🙂

***this is for Candi**** sorry for being a bitch on the phone. i don’t know why but i was and i apologize. i thought i would make it more public so you would believe me 🙂

A New Year with new goals

I have decided I will not be making a new year resolution. Instead I decided that we (Jeremy and I) will be making goals for the year. I have been obsessed with Pinterest since before it became popular so I have a million ideas on how to show our goals and keep track of how we are doing all year.
I woke up about 4 hours late today (as usual) and started cleaning and getting our list started. I was asked if I will have “get pregnant” on my list. Nope. I have been saying for the past 7 years that I will get pregnant. I did last year and we all know how that turned out. I have nothing fertility or baby related on my list. I can’t control my eggs. I can’t control my uterus. I can’t control whatever plan is in place. We are going to continue with fertility treatments which has been the plan all along. I won’t say I will be sane and not obsess over this but I have to get a grip. Fertility treatments and infertility consumes people. It has consumed me. I have let the depression get me in such a horrible place that I have withdrawn from society and personal interactions as much as possible. Luckily I have realized this before it got so bad that I can’t get out of it.
So I have goals. I have projects to keep me occupied. I have plans that, if I get pregnant, can continue or be stopped regardless of the outcome. I have an unspoken goal to get pregnant (even though I just typed it) but I won’t put it on a list. I will just keep it in my thoughts and prayers and know that whatever happens happens.
Good luck with all of your new years plans, resolutions, and goals. One of my goals is to finish my goals. That’s going to be difficult enough for me to do. This year has a lot of great things in store for us. Watch out for crazy to come to town, I know it’s coming soon.
Happy New Year and lots of love to all.

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.

When prayers aren’t enough

This is my letter to Kristen:

I have spent days and weeks and months praying for you to get pregnant. And then amending my prayer for you to carry to term. And then again for your baby to be healthy.  I have prayed that if it were between the two of us, I wanted you to get pregnant first. It only seemed fair. In my joy of finding out that I was expecting, I admit I was a little saddened it was me and not you. I have prayed with all my heart and soul, but I can’t give you what you want. I know that everything happens in God’s time, but dangit- I can’t stand seeing you suffer. I get enough hope up for the both of us and I’m crushed when your heart is broken, yet again. I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss. I can’t protect you from pain. I can’t magically give you a baby.  I’m helpless here. I’m not asking for your reassurance, because this isn’t about me. It’s about you and the fact that I would do anything in my power for you, as any best friend would. Everything in my power and all of my prayers don’t seem to be enough, though. I love you, friend, and I want all of your dreams to come true.You have been a blessing in my life and I can’t seem to repay you for the dark times you’ve helped me through and the good times you’ve shared with me.  There was that one time you almost killed me, as I choked on a chicken sandwich from a joke that you told, but I forgive you for that. Life sucks and it isn’t fair. Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. We have no patience, even though God keeps reminding us to slow down and wait. I will gladly shoulder as much of your burden and sorrow as possible. I will be your cheerleader and hope have-er. I will be your verbal punching bag, (sorry I bruise easily.) I will continue to stay by your side and pray my heart out. I will do whatever I can. I’m just sorry my prayers aren’t enough.

Love you dear friend.

Candi

I’m dreaming of a full uterus.

I had a dream last night that I am pregnant.  I hate those dreams.  I wake up in a panic thinking I need to call the doctor or take a test or something.  It’s never pleasant when I burst into tears 4 seconds after waking up.  Luckily my husband slept through it all and  I could get up and on my way to work.  I think a lot of this has to do with so much “baby” stuff going on.  Obviously, Candi is pregnant which is awesome but I find myself acting like that 10-year-old that didn’t get that really cool toy for Christmas and will spend the next few weeks feeling like a failure.  I love you Candi…I love the baby…this is just how I feel I am acting and I feel like a fool.  I have several friends that are getting ready or have already had their babies.  I should be doing that.  I should be getting ready to squeeze a giant head through my loins.  So, as I was with Thanksgiving, I am grouchy.  I am the actual Grinch.

I had a great weekend.  I got to spend time with my husband and accomplish things that I had on my “to-do” list for a while.  I actually enjoyed myself.  Until yesterday afternoon.  I have no idea what set me off but I had a melt down.  I began freaking out at everyone.  I yelled at my husband for no reason.  I threatened to blow up Walmart…yeah…I still hate that store.  I threatened to drive my car into a pole or something (please don’t worry about me, I’m ok…not suicidal…just extremely hormonal and my car was really pissing me off.)  There are a lot of things that may be changing in my life with work and the husbands work and what not and I am in panic mode.  So, yesterday was bad.
I keep trying to make myself not such a bitch.  As with everyone else in the world, we have a million things going on.  I keep trying to fit in fertility treatments into the schedule and that is making things worse.  We “tried” again this month.  I will find out 4 days before Christmas.  I don’t know what I think about any of it.  Right now I’m trying to keep myself a float in the crazy mess I have created for myself.  I used to have my house decorated by now.  Yesterday I threatened to burn my fake tree that is still in the box in the basement.  I just don’t know what to do with myself.  If you feel like this…you are not alone.  This psycho is right there with you.

This is what infertility does to you.  This is what happens when you lose a baby.  Well, I should say it could happen to you unless you are one of those disgustingly perky folks that some call optimists.  I have told Candi the she has to keep being the optimist because i have no optimistic bones in my body.  I married an optimist.  It makes me sick sometimes.  Sometimes I just want to be angry or miserable.  I pull out of it but sometimes I just need to be mad.  This baby stuff just adds to the anger.  So, here’s me trying to be better and not so Grinchy.  When I get home today, I will clean my house (I say that everyday) and I will put my wreath on the door.  1 step at a time right?

Hello Cracked Eggs…

Hi everyone.

Candi & Kristen asked me to guest post, so I figured “Hey, it’s Wednesday morning, why the heck not?” So, here goes…

A little bit about myself: *clears throat a la an AA meeting* Hi, my name is Trisha, I’m (almost) 35 years old and I am infertile. (Hi, Trisha!)

My story is pretty simple, though a bit different from Candi’s & Kristen’s – my husband, Michael, and I were married in October of 2002 and because of Mike’s reticence about having kids, we decided to wait a year before we started trying. During that year, we had to work out a few things between ourselves anyway. Anyway, so we waited a year, then started trying. Keep in mind that because we didn’t like condoms, we didn’t use protection at all and I wasn’t on the pill. Sure we’d agreed to wait a year but I figured if it happens, it happens. I was totally secure in my want of kids – Mike was just a little unsure, but I knew he would make an excellent father.

Anyway, we keep trying, keep trying, keep trying – nothing. We spent the time trying to get our finances in order (made the typical stupid mistakes with credit cards when we first got married), we work, go to school, graduate from college, get married, work, go to school, graduate from college (me this time), buy a house, etc. And nothing. Nothing happens. By this time we’re pretty sure there must be a problem so we finally hook up with a fertility specialist here in Akron.

Follow through with the typical testing, the blood draws (do NOT be afraid of needles if you decide to do this), etc. Then the doctor dropped the bomb – there is NOTHING wrong. Well, mostly. Mike’s boys are a little odd, but the “good ones” are plentiful – the doctor is stumped, we are too. So we do some IUI’s (inter-uterine inseminations) and by the 4th one we’re old hat at this – and yay, maybe this one worked?!

I was SO excited! I actually HAD a number – 5! Finally – I had the sore boobs, the bloating, etc.

But no. It didn’t stick. There’s a lot at the time that I could have blamed it on – almost 100% of the blame I felt at the time lay with the stress over the job I had at the time. By the time my boobs stopped hurting and the bloat went away, I’d gotten fired from that job. It’s safe to say that things are very different now.

This was 2 years ago….and time for a new adventure in the baby game.

Well, kids, this is where I stop for now (I gotta go to work…dang it). But more later, I promise.

OH, and as I go through and try to hash all of this out (with Cracked Eggs permission, of course) if anyone has any questions, let me know. As Kristen will tell you – I’m an open book. Just may take some time to get all the chapters out. 😉 Happy Wedsnesday!