Whisper Words of Wisdom

I spoke with nurse Monique-the-freak at the fertility office and we scheduled the next appointment, which is the "Consultation" appointment that happens when the three IUI's are made of total fail. I guess I can see the need for this, but I'm fairly sure our options are pretty much IVF (Anybody got an extra ten to fifteen grand lying around? Huh, strangely I don't either), a surrogate (also pricey and see also: kinda freaky), adoption, or going back to having sex during that lucky four-hour window of ovulation I must have and hoping for the best, which hasn't seemed to work out so great thus far. Unless there's something new I haven't yet heard of, this is about it, right? Either way, the appointment isn't for another couple of weeks, as I opted to wait until the next time my doctor would be here rather than driving all the way the hell down to Charleston again.

A little while before that my social worker co-worker came to my office to see how I was doing. We talked for a few minutes and she asked me if adoption would be a consideration for us. I told her that yeah, I'm still open to whatever at this point. She told me she has a good friend with a lot of experience with this who'd be happy to talk to me about it if I wanted. That was nice to hear, though I'm not sure if I'd be comfortable taking her up on it, at least for now. Brian's aunt and uncle adopted one of his cousins and his aunt has let me know she'd be more than happy to talk to me about it as well. I'm not close with her, but I'd feel more comfortable with her than a complete stranger. But who knows. The fact I work in an environment like this, one that is partially devoted to this very thing, I think is an interesting detail in this whole thing. Who knows what could come of it and I'm certainly not ruling anything out.

Adoption. It's been on my mind a lot lately, which duh - shouldn't be too surprising. Like with Brian, one of my cousins was also adopted. So was one of my closest friends. So was one of my old boyfriends and his older sister, but he turned out to be a raging crackhead who has spent most of his adult life in prison and his sister went on to drop out of high school and have three or four differently fathered interracial illegitimate kids, all while living off of her mom and I think she also lives on the wrong side of the law. So maybe those aren't the best examples, but I was just composing a mental list. Before it became the latest celebrity trend, I feel like adoption has been an important and really amazing contribution to society and it's something I've always admired, long before I thought it might be something I'd even consider.

Of course, there is a ton of information about it which I have no clue about. I've avoided tapping into the internet just yet, as I'm pretty sure once I start I may not emerge again for days. I know it's there; it'll also still be there when I'm ready to read it. Right now it's hugely intimidating and scary, but so was this whole thing before we started the process. The unknown is always scarier, so I'm looking forward to when it becomes the known.

And with that, I bid you a lovely start to the weekend.

Happy bloody Memorial Day

Right as Brian was running around yesterday getting ready to leave, I went to the bathroom and saw that my period was in the process of arriving. The scary part was the almost absolute emotionless reaction I had. Considering I didn't once for a minute believe I was pregnant this time, I guess it's not too surprising. I could tell he felt bad but I didn't want to make a big scene right before he left to drive two hours to see family, so I didn't. After he left though, and it started raining and I went to the bathroom again just to confirm what was true, I thought, Wow, I wonder if this day could this day suck any more? No, I don't think it could. Then I accidentally rammed my toe into the cabinet under the bathroom sink and thought, Ahh, yes.

I half-assed started cleaning up, but my heart wasn't in it anymore. Which now that I think about it, I actually was reacting to getting my fucking period; I just wasn't really allowing myself to acknowledge it too much. But when I woke up from a three hour nap, I was ready for the pity party to be done with. Each of the last two times this has happened, all I wanted was to be left alone for the day and hey, here I was. I spent the rest of the day doing laundry, reading, making potato salad in honor of it being a cook-out holiday and renting a non-Brian movie off of PPV, Rachel Getting Married, which was good and worth the $3.99.

Today I'm one of a small skeleton crew here at work, which is a good mix of being out of the house and also somewhat left alone. It hasn't been the kickoff to Summer celebration weekend for me that it is for most people, but this has never been a significant holiday for me anyway, so it's fine. I'm thankful to all our vets, but I live with a man who watches the History Channel a lot and get plenty of opportunities to be thankful and cry for them.

The highlight so far has been my cousin Scott emailing to let me know there's a Land of the Lost marathon on the SciFi channel today and he's ecstatically introducing his older daughter to what used to be our favorite show when we were her age. I'm looking forward to watching a couple of episodes when I get home and I'm damn sure going to see the movie when it comes out, even though I know it'll be nothing like the show. Scott and I used to "play" Land of the Lost and the most fun part was always going over the waterfall. Now it's being described as a "cult classic," so I doubt anyone knows what the hell I'm even talking about so I'll stop.

I'm looking forward to Brian coming home this afternoon. I did fine without him, what with avoiding getting murdered in the shower while home alone and all, but yeah, life is much more fun with him around. I don't know what's next on the baby agenda, but I'm finding it difficult to care right now. Life goes on and it's still better than the alternative.

Whoa, can you FEEL the ennui?

I'm fine. Really.

Round and round

So I've shared with one of the social workers here about the recent details of my life, Re: fun with fertility. I mean, what better way to get some free therapy, right? Actually we'd been discussing something else and then out of the blue she asked if everything was okay with me, which took me aback. Here I've been so proud of how well I've held my shit together and faked it til I maked it in front of co-workers, not revealing anything about the hormonal roller coaster I've been riding without interruption for six months. UP and down, UP and down, and I'm tired and dizzy and feel like I could spray vom down the front of my shirt at any moment.

She said, "I don't mean to pry, but it seems like you have a lot on your mind lately and I just wanted to make sure everything is okay at home." Which is technically prying, but okay. I've been feeling beat down with this thing and when she said that, I took it as my cue to turn into a snotting, sob-heaving mess right there in her office for a little while. Later, like the next time I'm having trouble sleeping, I'll probably rehash it all in my mind how I shouldn't have gotten so personal and be regretful and embarrassed about coming unglued in front of her and all that but right now I feel sort of relieved.

Well, except for one thing she said. Which was: "Kim, if you want to be a mother, you will be, somehow. We may not know exactly how yet, but you will do this. And you'll be a great one. That's what I can tell you." And gave me a hug, which I repaid by leaving a large snot stain on her shirt.

But I didn't pursue that line of talk, which I took to mean what several other people have suggested as well - adoption. That is something that he and I have discussed only in the abstract and never very enthusiastically. I'm not saying I'm against it; in fact ever since the last IUI, I've been thinking maybe I need to start talking to some of the adoption people who I conveniently work with every day and at least try to find out some answers to all the scary, overwhelming questions I have about even how to start the process.

That's when most people get pregnant, right - when the adoption ball has started rolling? Yeah, another platitude I've heard many, MANY times over the years. It doesn't help. I know people mean well when they say it, but when all your energy is going to keep thoughts like, I WILL NEVER GET PREGNANT, I WILL NEVER BE A MOTHER, I DON'T DESERVE IT ANYWAY at bay, trust me - it doesn't help.

I made Brian promise me after we started this that I would become a mother. He may have just been trying to get me to stop standing in the doorway of the computer room being psycho so he could go back to his poker game, but no; he has been a super trooper through this shit and he does keep his promises to me, so...there's that. But if that does have to mean adoption, that brings a whole new and different slew of issues. Like how important his ancestry is to him. How he laughs fondly over how much his nephew looks exactly like his brother. How that male proclivity to reproduce to keep the family bloodline going seems so fucking embedded in him. Not that I'm just accusing him of those feelings; obviously part of my desire to become a mother is of course to have my husband's child; made up of him and me, old school style. I'd say that's pretty obvious, but I still felt the need to clarify, just in case there were any doubts.

I feel like to even talk about it with him is the first step in depriving him of something really important. And at this point he'd just say I'm jumping the gun, that this process hasn't failed yet so why am I already giving up. I can clearly hear him say it. But this is how my mind works and I know myself too. When I find out next week that this has failed again, (I'm allowed to test Monday, but I'm QUITE SURE I'll start bleeding sometime around then, just like fucking clockwork, just like every other fucking month)I need to know how to proceed and quickly move onto the next plan. Because I'm afraid of where my mind might go otherwise.

I fought the law of gravity and I didn't win

Who knew procreation could be so dangerous?

Yesterday we went and had the third (and final) IUI. Being old pros by now, the nurse pretty much told us afterwards, you guys know the deal - but don't forget intercourse tonight or tomorrow can only help. Considering I'd just been shot full of the same stuff Manny Ramirez just got in trouble for (Who knew Hcg can both kickstart ovulation and also help prevent revealing steroid use?) (Well, I guess Manny knew that but I didn't), I was more than happy to follow doctors' orders this morning.

Fastforward to post-coitus. Brian gets up and leaves the room, headed toward the bathroom.

Well, first some backstory that will hopefully help justify my idiocy a little: After the IUI, while you're sitting in this neat dentist-type chair, they pull out a little section at the bottom of the chair that tilts your pelvis back and you lay like that for 15 minutes while your husband talks to you about doing a spreadsheet for him to help him with starting his new job next week. Or at least that's the way it works for me. You also send up a little prayer, going "Please, God - really. This time, really let those swimmers find the right place; just one out of the 251 million would be great." And then you get up, pay a bunch of money, drive two hours home and sleep the rest of the day.

Anyway, this morning. We attempt making a baby the old fashioned way and after the polite amount of time, Brian leaves the room. Sidebar: I know there are people who do the whole cuddling and/or romantic stuff after sex, but maybe those people haven't been together for a decade or more? Me, I'm ready to move on to the next thing (usually getting a glass of water) and I'm glad he is too.

But today I decided to put forth some extra effort and figured if medical professionals suggest propping my tweeter up in the air, wouldn't a handstand would be even better? Sure it would! Sorry to be so graphic, but this was the scene: me, wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. I prop up on my hands at the headboard and somehow swing my legs up and balance my feet against the wall. And here was my mistake. Totally forgetting to take into account the dog and how very interested he always is with whatever I'm doing. I barely got into position when he quickly leaped onto the bed and started licking my face and up my nose. I couldn't yell at him because of how hard I was laughing and before I knew what was happening, I lost my balance, heard a loud cracking noise and me, the dog and the front portion of the bed went crashing to the floor.

Brian from the other end of the house: "What the hell was that?"
Me: "I just broke the bed."
Dog: *Flies to the other end of the room and stares at me while tilting his head inquisitively*

Brian's pretty sure he can fix the bed, but he's asked that no matter what happens with me getting pregnant, from now on I only practice gymnastics outside.

Summer breeze makes me feel resentful

Well, hell.
Just got back from the ultrasound that tells how big the follicles have grown and it appears they haven't grown much at all this time. As with everything else, the nurse really didn't have any satisfactory answers for why this is, so I now get to wait on a phone call that will most likely tell me there won't be an IUI this cycle. I'm not sure I've even processed this information completely yet, as this particular problem hasn't happened to me before. Either way - shitty. Brian suggested we could have sex anyway, just for the hell of it. What? Oh yeah, back in the old days when sex was for fun? Yeah, I forgot about that. Might be a good idea though.

This weekend has been slightly more productive however, as I decided lying around feeling sorry for myself is getting old. We attacked the yard work with a vengence yesterday and at the end of the day I was happy to see progress had actually been made. Now we have a leaf pile roughly the size of Mount Vesuvius and have contained it with chicken wire. He had a little too much fun with the leaf blower, aiming it at me and the dog every so often so that my boogers are now black and dirty. That must be great for the sinuses.

I'm a little disgusted by the fact Spring seems to have given way to Summer without any warning or my approval. I was enjoying the doors being open and cool breezes blowing through the house, but now it's All Air Conditioning, All The Time and the roaches and mosquitos got the memo and are all enthusiastically reporting for duty. Bastards. Brian already sprayed once, so that now any roaches we see are in the process of dying a slow horrible death, but still.

We're going to visit his parents today, as Tuesday they're leaving for Hawaii for a week. They haven't gone on any trips in awhile and this is to celebrate their 25th anniversary, so I hope they have a great time.

Other than that, I can't think of anything exciting except since I worked Friday, I have tomorrow off. Since it doesn't look like we're making the trip to Charleston, I'm hoping to finish off the rest of my Spring (Summer) Cleaning list and make the most of the day.

Peace out.

Keep feeling fascination

Why didn't anybody tell me my boyfriend is in the new Wolverine movie?

It's Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights! This is the man (boy) who has replaced Jim from The Office as my number one TV boyfriend but I don't know much about him surprisingly. As if Hugh Jackman's torso wasn't enough of a motivator. We may be back at the movies sooner than I thought. Rowr! And just in time to make with all the sex again too - tres convenient.

Which reminds me. Annette sent me an article the other day about how Hugh Jackman's wife sometimes makes him wear the Wolverine costume when they do it. Now there's a woman after my own heart. I've often lamented (hey!) Brian's refusals over the years to be Darth Vader, Brett Favre (all he'd need there would be a simple GB helmet), Spiderman, Batman and Captain Jack Sparrow. I mean really; I don't think it's asking too much. Then again, I've never actually bought him a costume to wear and I know half his problem is he has a shopping phobia, so maybe I need to look into that a little more. Either way - Hugh Jackman's wife = my new hero(ine).

Here are two things currently making me feel old (in addition to all the usual things): Grace and my 23rd anniversary of friendship is tomorrow (we use the first time we went out together to mark the date) and her daughter just made it on the high school cheerleading team for next year. This is the same kid who was JUST BORN. Or so it feels like. Holy hell. We always joked by the time I had a kid Elizabeth would be old enough to babysit, but now it's more like she's old enough to be its mother. Not even close to funny. But technically true. I predicted she would be a cheerleader for our alma mater; it wasn't hard to imagine since she's been involved with it since the time she was four years old. The first and only cheerleader I've ever loved.

So...what else. Uh, oh yeah. Brian, who is in charge of giving me my fertility medicine shots (I do not stick myself with needles; it's a personal choice), was all ready for me yesterday afternoon, saying cheerfully "Isn't it time for your shot?" Why yes honey, how strangely responsible of you to remember. I stand there all smiley, thinking how thoughtful he really is. He opens the fridge where it is always stored. And then he asks me where it is. (Insert needle-scratching-across-record sound)Me: "Why are you asking ME where it is; I don't touch it, that's your job, where is it, what the fuck, aaaaggghhhh!" Or something like that. Turns out he had left it out on the dining room table last night after shooting me up. Which should tell you the state of the table that we didn't notice the bright red hazmat container, needles and medicine. He started making apologetic noises as I dialed the on-call nurse. Got her on the phone and quickly and panicky explained the dilemma to her. At the end of my rant I added, "I'm going to kill my husband; this is his fault." She laughed and said "Honey, you're fine. Take your shot now and put the medicine back into the refrigerator. Don't kill your husband yet; we still need him for the process. You can do that afterwards." I think more medical people need to get a sense of humor. It helps.

Glad for the end of this work week; it's been about as much fun as a punch in the throat. The next IUI is either happening Monday or Tuesday; we won't know until the follicles get measured Sunday morning - I'm hoping for Monday, but it's not up to me. I'm not even going to speculate what my mental state is going to be like after this one. I do know I have lots of fun questions for the doctor though. Things he is likely not able to answer, but damn it, I'm asking him anyway. Starting off with WHAT IS THE MAJOR MALFUNCTION, NUMBNUTS? (Anyone else a Full Metal Jacket fan? I love that movie.)

That's all for now.

Fight the power.

Lifestyles of the poor and poopy

As a general rule if my personal life is in the shitter, work is usually smooth sailing and vice versa. I figure it falls under that old myth about God not giving you any more than He thinks you can handle type thing. Which out of all the stuff out there advertised, I tend to buy into since I can site many examples of this being the case with my life.

God, or Whomever must not have gotten the memo this week.

Remember that whole thing about me getting my period Sunday? Yeah, that hasn't changed. And what a positive attitude I had last week after attending that inspirational conference - I mean, I felt absolutely ecstatic about coming back to work this week and applying all the neat new positive stuff I'd learned. Which was squashed during the first half of Monday when the shit pile kept getting bigger and bigger and for every one thing I crossed off my to-do list, three more EMERGENCIES got added.

I mean, it's only Tuesday and I feel like I've spent an entire week at work already. That's never good. It hit me at some point today there's no way I'll be able to enjoy my usual Friday off this week; now I'm just hoping I won't have to be in the office all day.

This morning, as I raced into town to make my ultrasound appointment, I got this sick feeling I'd forgotten the checkbook and a quick search through my purse confirmed this. At the same time I was simultaneously envisioning my debit card lying on the computer desk where I'd left it after paying a bill online. Who shows up to a doctor's appointment without means to pay? Me. But in I went anyway, thinking Screw it. Because being the expert I now am at fertility and all its wonders, I knew there was no choice but to have the ultrasound done this morning - certain things must happen at certain times - and if they refused me, it would throw off this entire cycle - a whole month wasted. They'd either take my word that I'm good for it and that I'd pay later or take the blame for messing up my chances to get pregnant. For the third time in a row.

Sometimes it pays not to give a shit. Besides having the longest ultrasound in history (I can now honestly say I've had an object inserted in one orafice for twenty-eight consecutive minutes), the payment thing wasn't an issue. They know me well by now, which is either good or bad, depending on how you look at it. The nurse even stopped herself after she'd begun to give me the injection lesson, saying "What am I saying -y'all are pro's at this by now." Yes. Yes we are.

I got home this afternoon just absolutely wiped out, when something occured to me and I panicked. The electic bill. When was the last time I paid it? Who knew. I told Brian I had a weird feeling it might be due soon and he said there was an unopened bill on the table. I opened it and read the big bold letters: "Service will be disconnected if not paid by 4/28/2009 at 5:00 p.m. It was 4:53. Considering I'm now using the computer to write this, you can probably presume I made the payment on time. Because after reading about everybody's adventures with air conditioning over the last week or so, no offense, but I wasn't interested in joining the ranks of the hot and sweaty. Not this week.

So I guess even though work is a big fart bubble right now and I'm once again smack in the middle of prepping my eggs for insemination (that will be on Sunday or Monday, depending on how the follicles decide to grow this time) it could be worse. If I've learned anything in this life, it can ALWAYS be worse.

Happy Deadliest Catch Night - when life is an asshole, TV never lets me down.

Sunday, bloody Sunday

This post is coming to you from a remote corner of Siberia, where I ran away to escape reality. Just kidding - why the hell would anyone go to Siberia? I'd go to Alaska. But I can't afford it right now.

I got my period yesterday. Yeah, it sucked. What really sucked was Saturday morning when I was in the middle of hurredly making an apple pie and playing with my new haircut and picking out what I was wearing to the cook-out and I went to the bathroom, wiped and saw a wee bit of color on the toilet paper. I thought I would be able to hold my shit together but before I could tell Brian what happened he noticed I was shaking. Way to betray me, whatever bodily system causes you to shake. I had a small breakdown then, and told him sorry but there was no way I was going to the festivities when I figured I'd be bleeding any hour now and he totally understood and went by himself. He knows my limit.

So when the blood did eventually arrive yesterday morning, I was already post-freakout and it wasn't too bad. Of course I spent the entire weekend reading and watching mindless TV (I LOVE the Real Housewives of NYC now) and now I'm at work and feeling okay. I am thankful again that I work in a fairly isolated location and can hide behind a closed door most of the day. Sometimes for me it's best to keep human contact to a minimum.

I was reading a collection of short stories by Alice Munro yesterday and in one of them the husband/father was just this total dick. MEAN, mean man. The wife loved the kids completely, but led a miserable life with him. I got up to get some grape juice and passed Brian in the dining room. Without saying anything, he just gave me this awesome and much-needed hug. Timing is everything. I'm going through something that is just flat out emotionally draining right now, but I have an amazing person helping me through it and I need to tell him that more often.

Just being out of the house I already feel more human. And there's certainly not a lack of things to do here to keep busy, so best get to 'em. Thanks for all your words of support; they really do make it so much easier. And laughing is good right now, so if you get a chance, I wouldn't mind hearing a joke or two. I still can laugh and that is good.

Another post about peeing

I must admit I had a big smile when I read all the "Pee on the stick, already!" comments. And I promise I'm not trying to be coy - I'm so not that person. I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm severely frightened to take the damn thing. Which is really dumb, because me not taking it is obviously not affecting the outcome. I think maybe I'm enjoying the ignorant bliss while I can? Like, as long as it's still a possibility I can continue to be in a good mood but if the possibility is ruled out, I go back to the end of the waiting line.

I got myself so riled up, late last night I wrote Swistle a semi-hysterical email and as is her way, her response calmed me. I wasn't so much as asking for advice as I was asking her to share her pregnancy test experiences, as she's had quite a few of them. In general I like hearing pregnancy stories but right now is the time to share with me your TESTING stories, if you would be so indulgent. And if you would like not to broadcast to the world like I do, you can always email them to me. I promise I'm not doing a social experiment; I'm just really curious right now and I guess need other stories to compare mine to.

Today I'm either one, two or three days late for the period, based on what's happened with my cycle for the last three months. Damn me for not keeping track of my cycle more carefully over the last year, because that would tell a better, more accurate story. To me it seemed as though I'm very consistent but not when I see the last three months of 34, 32 and 30 day cycles. So I'm thinking tomorrow might really be the day, as if I'm STILL not bleeding but also not pregnant, it might indicate a problem that I'd need to make the doctor aware of.

This is riveting isn't it. I'm boring MYSELF, so if your eyes are bleeding right now I don't blame you and I apologize.

Dinner with the family was way less annoying than I imagined it would be which is usually the case. I sat between Brian and the good sister-in-law, who traded a couple of giggling snide whispers with me and made me laugh. The mean sister-in-law acted so nice and sweet like she always does and every time it amazes me. It's a rock solid cover and I certainly find it hard to picture her throwing things and punching Grant (in the balls!), but then again why would he make those things up and tell them to Brian because it only makes him look like a wuss. But the parents were surprised and overjoyed with the dinner and that's all that matters. It didn't make me jealous seeing Iris's whole face light up when she saw and held her grandsons; it made me happy for her. It made me clearly picture her doing the same thing with my future child.

More fascinating news: I had Kelly cut six inches off of my hair. That's not very dramatic though, considering it's still a little below my shoulders. It was long and scraggy and not doing a damn thing but being put into a ponytail every day and making me curse at it. Now it's light, flippy and really cute and I'm glad I did it. Especially since we had our first glimpse of hellish summer temps yesterday. It reached ninety, is what I'm saying. That's NINE plus TY. Hauling home some groceries that included Breyer's ice cream, I thought, "Please no. I'm not ready for this shit yet." It's supposed to get back to more seasonable pleasant temps, but still.

So today is the big family cookout, with more family coming from all over the state. This means I should be baking George's birthday pie and not futzing around on the computer.

And then tomorrow...might be very interesting. *GAG*

Viva la weekend!

Zoo, almost

I think without realizing it, for the last few weeks I've been somewhat hermatizing (not a word but I'm using it anyway) myself. I've avoided seeing his family who were up visiting from Florida. I've avoided the redneck friends. I've made no effort to see any of our other friends. Books. I've spent a lot of time with books this month because you don't have to make conversation with them if you dont' want to and they don't care at all what kind of mood you're in or if you've put any make-up on. (See why I don't mind the rule about ending sentences with prepositions; I do it all the time. Because I'm the grammatical gangster.)

I wouldn't classify this as depression, per se; I've been fairly good company for myself. Yes, I may have slept a little more than what would may be considered normal lately, but whatever. I think I've just been wanting some quiet while I waited out this latest two-week period between the last procedure and taking another test. I'm not excitedly waiting to take the test this time and as a matter of fact, I don't think I'm even buying it until the day comes and goes that my period should arrive. If that scenario even happens. While the thought of getting my period again this month is utterly putrid, the thought of peeing on another stick only to see one line show up is just abhorent.

That day is arriving quickly and just thinking about it makes me break out in the cold sweats and have heart palpitations. And that's always fun. Because this would be strike two and the way this particular office works is that after strike three, you're out. Out of luck, that is. They say if three inseminations haven't worked, odds are pretty high it's not going to, and I can certainly buy that. What would happen then is we'd discuss other options, most likely IVF. I don't even want to think that far ahead however; the financial aspect of it is the hurdle I haven't figured out how we'd jump over yet.

But yesterday was a beautiful day and I woke up knowing if I didn't get out of the house for awhile, I'd start to become foul. It's funny that Laura posted yesterday about feeling poopy and how she was going to work through it by doing productive things around the house - usually that strategy works for me as well, but I think I've been in the house waaay too much recently.

I wrote Brian a note and stuck it to the bathroom mirror with a gorilla sticker "Please take me to the zoo today." When he got up a few minutes later and went to the bathroom, I heard him laugh and knew my plan worked. I've been wanting to go; the Riverbanks Zoo is rated pretty highly as far as zoos go (one of the best in the Southeast they claim), it's not far from here, it's not too expensive and like I said, the weather was the stuff my weather dreams are made of. (Preposition! Sorry.)

We set off happily, camera in tow. I babbled excitedly about how we hadn't been there in almost ten years, how I couldn't wait to see the Silverback gorilla and how the botanical gardens were probably ridiculously gorgeous right now. As we approached the zoo exit, we noticed traffic was getting thicker. As we looked at the exit ramp and the overpass leading to the zoo entrance, we noticed cars were stopped. All in the direction of the zoo. He looked at me and I just said "No." We got off the exit and headed in the other direction, wanting to get away from that clusterfuck as quickly as possible.

What I don't get is that I checked the website that morning to see if anything was going on that day, because I know sometimes they have large-ish events. Boo at the Zoo for Halloween and Lights Before Christmas, etc. The site allows you to click on the date of the month you want to visit and let's you see if anything is happening - which I did and it wasn't. Obviously SOMETHING was happening, though; I'm sure I'll read about it in the paper today.

I was sad. I didn't want to go back home yet. I had flashbacks to when we were headed to Disney World once when I was a wee lass and the interstate was backed up for miles with rabid tourists all clamoring to get in at the same time and my dad saying he was very sorry but we'd have to go to Sea World instead. Sea World? I'm sorry - marine life is no substitute for the mighty Mouse. Not when you're ten anyway.

We started throwing out ideas and finally he said, Want to see a movie? I answered with Crank 2 just came out. He said Hell yes, that's perfect! Then fate intervened, I guess to make up for the previous debacle. We got a newspaper and I saw that the movie was playing at the theater that's within walking distance of our neighborhood and the next showing was twenty minutes from right then. We walked in just in time for my favorite part, the previews.

So while it was disappointing I didn't get to see any animals, it turns out Jason Statham IS an acceptable substitute, because the man certainly brings out the animal in me:

The movie was just as absurd as the first one, but take a gander at that specimen above - do you think that bothered me? Ha!

And now, another weekend is coming to a close already. Sheesh.

Today's post: definitely falls under the "laments" portion

"It's so unfair."

It's a phrase I hear a lot, sometimes from myself though I try to keep that to a minimum. I don't always succeed, but having been a bitch of a little kid, I have tried to grow out of my propensity to be a whiner. I don't like people who are and I want to be able to like myself - that's a fairly simple way to keep control over it.

For the first time since setting off on the fertility journey, I dreamed last night I was pregnant. I don't remember most of it; only a vague idea of bringing the positive pregnancy test stick into work to show the only person here who knows I'm trying and having her get all happy and then I woke up. And it was the opposite feeling of when you're trying to shake off a disturbing dream; I tried to cling to that excited feeling as long as I could. I'm pretty sure I was even smiling when I woke up, which might be a first. It lasted a little while, but sometime this morning it dissipated and turned on me, leaving me to feel, truly, that it's never going to happen. I hate even writing that; but my hobby is to document and it's the truth. Yes, I'm riding the newest theme park attraction, the EMOTIONS Roller Coaster, up and down and up and down, twisty and turny and oops I think I just threw up! Who wants to hop on board; come on - it's fun!?!

Actively trying to get pregnant has brought about a lot of highs and lows that weren't there before. Yes, it was something that was on my mind almost constantly, but that's different and a lot more vague than having actual real hope for the first time. And then reading all the statistics. And the stories about people who have done this for years. The first failed attempt. It has been a real challenge at times not to turn into a sniveling whiny titty-baby and I'm sure at times I have.

To try not to say or even think "It's not fair."

I've now heard about two different families who seem to be well-known in the blogosphere and who have both lost babies in the past few days. I haven't really looked into it that much beyond what is being said on Twitter, because I know my limits and I know this isn't something that would be at all good for me, especially right now. I hadn't read or known about the families previously, so there would be no real reason for me to give my condolences. They're certainly in my thoughts and if there was a way I could figure out how to do anything in my power to make them feel better, I'd do it. Unfortunately there isn't.

This doesn't mean I think what I'm dealing with has been diminished; I've never felt one tragedy cancels another out or ever dispense this gem to someone who's hurting: "Well, you should feel lucky for what you have because so and so and these and those have it so much worse." I myself do feel very lucky most of the time. But it's like finding out my marriage was falling apart the day after September 11th - I was horrified on both counts and one had nothing to do with the other. I don't think I've ever heard it put any better than Swistle, who has the perfect disclaimer right on the heading of her blog: "I acknowledge my luckiness, without giving up my claim to the suckiness." I don't think I could ever find a better example of the point I'm trying to get across.

Grace has always had this saying, "Whatever Kimmy wants, Kimmy gets." It sounds bitchy when you don't know the entire context of it; she actually says that to encourage me to keep hoping for whatever it is I'm hoping for because things usually do work out okay in the end. (I think. Grace? You're not secretly harboring a voo doo doll of me, right? No, you wouldn't do that after all the time and effort and money you've spent helping keep me alive) During the marital rift she calmly told me one night when I was losing my shit particularly badly, "If you want to stay married, you will stay married," and whaddaya know, she was right. But there are those annoying pesky times like now, when my brain is mocking me, going You actually think this is going to happen, fool? Bitch, please! What even makes you think you deserve it? Oh, you've wanted it so long and so badly and you'll be good parents - that's supposed to justify it? Millions of people want to eat today too, but that shit ain't happening either. And I want to ask Grace, "So how about this one; am I going to get this one too? No really - I want your guaranteed seal of approval, because what you're telling me and what I'm telling me are two totally different things entirely. And I like yours better."

The other day Sister told me there's a good possibility she and Travis are going to England in June. Remember, that place I posted about a couple of months ago, the one I called my number one most dream place? Yeah, that's the one. Now, if you know me and/or my sister, you know there's nothing in the world I want more than for good things to happen to her. She's one of the most generous, giving, hardworking, kind-hearted person in the world, and she's married to the other one. But, and Sister do not take this the wrong way or I'll drive down there and put a rotten baloney sandwich in your mailbox, sometimes I just have to wonder where I veered and what the fuck happened. Come on, I'd be a big lying liar if I didn't admit that. Or maybe it's just simple like when I told Brian's mom about it the other day: "Well, Kim (Kee-yim) I'm sorry, you didn't marry a rich man." She is nothing if not direct and to the point. And this is her beloved first-born she's talking about, so it's not like she meant any malice with that statement. I just had to laugh.

This is starting to head toward dangerous pity party territory and I know it's a slippery slope once you get started. Like I said, I don't like whining so I hope this wasn't taken in that tone because that's not how I meant it. I don't have the talent to sometimes accurately spit out what's going on in my head; I just know it gets a little crowded in there if I don't let some of it out sometimes.

Life. Sometimes it isn't fair. But I will buck up; I always do. In the meantime I'll take the useful advice my prolific husband once said: (and trust me, he was joking because otherwise he wouldn't still be walking amongst the living)
"Quit your bitchin' and get in the kitchen."

From zero to bitch

Today is one of those days I feel like my fight or flight instinct is on high alert and I either want to punch someone in the face (myself would suffice) or get in my shitty car, start driving in any direction and BE GONE. This doesn't happen very often, I have no idea what brought it on and I know it will pass soon. Having this much pent up unprovoked rage isn't healthy, so tonight's exercise might have to include more than just a nice neighborhood walk. A punching bag would prove very effective, but I don't own one of those. Not sure why.

I thought the work day would be pretty laid back, as the boss isn't here and I have a light week scheduled. Don't ever go into work thinking that - I should've known better. My phone hasn't stopped all day and at the other end of the line is some asshole asking me not relevant or else calling to bitch to me about shit that's out of our control.

Brian picked the wrong day to also call many many times. Not totally his fault, but uhhhh....

Rage. It's not good for the skin.

The repeat performance IUI went well on Saturday. This time we made the trip without his mom tagging along which was much cooler - she doesn't make me feel pressure per se; we just can't totally relax and be ourselves in front of her. That puts a strain on people who curse a lot.

We got there right on time at 10:00 and they immediately called Brian in to do his thing. He mentioned he wished he had a t-shirt made up that said "Super Stroker" that he could wear for these occasions but I took it in stride, knowing that's how he deals with being nervous - the stupid jokes. I never really thought about it, but unless you're in the porn business, semi-public masterbation must be a little bit stressful. But like last time, he handled his business (literally!) like a champ and was done in less than fifteen minutes. Whoever said Hustler magazine doesn't have its useful place in society has never gone through fertility treatments.

So thank you, Larry Flynt; you provided us with enough time to go grab some Egg McMuffins before it was time for me to have to be back in the office for my part of the procedure. That McDonald's right across the street from the clinic must do a ton of business from the infertile portion of the population. Just saying.

I had a different doctor than the one I've seen previously and this one wasn't young or cute, but he was a little old and weird. I liked him all the same. He reiterated my follicles looked good, that there were three big ones this time and 95 million sperm. Not to get too graphic, but he also noted my cervix gave obvious signs of ovulation, which nobody said last time. I know better than to be all hopey this time, but it was encouraging to hear that everything was as good if not better than last time. We also topped off the procedure with some more activity of our own, because you know - if 95 million is good, 190 million is better. And activity in our case usually begets more activity, though I had to remind him last night he accidentally deposited everything in the wrong location.

Okay, that was just gross. But true!

The doctor did say something weirdly comforting; that all we can all do is our best with trying for this and then let God and/or magic take care of the rest. I completely agree. But here's the thing. I don't want to hear from well-meaning people who tell me maybe it's not meant to be. I know this to be true, but I'm not ready to give up yet, so I'd rather not even enter into that line of thinking or conversation yet. My aunt told me that on the phone yesterday and I know she means well, she's just stupid sometimes.

That's like a comment I read somewhere not too long ago on a fertility site where someone chimed in that people who aren't able to have kids should probably take it as a sign that God is trying to thin the herd and keep from breeding too many idiots. I wanted so badly to get ahold of that person's contact information. Just to explain some of the examples of awesome parenting I've seen in my time - because in thier opinion everybody who currently has children must certainly be of high intelligence and background. Okay, that's enough of that - not in the right frame of mind to really be discussing this subject AT ALL.

Other than this, I sadly missed the cousin's girlfriend (baby mama) while she was here; she flew back to Florida yesterday. When Brian was over there Saturday night, she told him, "I wish Kim would've come with you - I really wanted to show her the baby!" Ahaha! I bet you did, honey! DARN IT ALL! What's awesome about that is that his cousin, aunt and uncle are still here for another week so I'll definitely make a point to visit them; they weren't the ones I was trying to avoid. Yeee!

The next couple of nights we're having our last hurrah of frozen overnight temperatures. While at first I was begrudging having to bring all the plants back inside, I just realized this is a good opportunity to have a couple more fireplace nights. And there is nothing like the fireplace (besides actual real sedatives) to calm me, so this couldn't have come at a better time.

Signing off now.
Click click boom!

Birds and bees and syringes and pee sticks

How naive I used to be. There was a time, right around the time I got my first period (The summer I turned twelve - I like to compare that with other girls; so, when and where did you first get yours? I was in New York with my sister visiting family for the summer, my grandmother had taken us grocery shopping and then to McDonald's for lunch, Sister and I went to use the bathroom and we discovered that Girl You'll be a Woman Now) that I thought having a baby was easy. You meet a nice guy, get married (I was taught old school), you and your husband share a special hug, and you have babies. SILLY ME. As if a big penis doesn't sound scary enough when you're learning about the birds and bees (What do birds and bees have to do with sex? Anyone?) - I'm glad I didn't know back then it was also going to involve a bunch of peeing (both in cups and on sticks), leg spreading (for strangers), calendar checking, day counting and blood donating (without the complimentary juice, cookies and t-shirt afterwards).

This is the part where I'm supposed to say, but look at how amazingly far technology has come; the fact that so many people are able to have babies now who wouldn't have even twenty years ago. Okay, yeah. Yay for technology. And what about the part where his parents so generously offered to help us out with this, a true blessing. Yes. Still thankful, yes. Correct me if I'm wrong but I am allowed to have more than happy unicorn kitten fart feelings over this whole thing, because to be honest, I'm a little worn out from all the positivity.

It's hard to believe, but it's already been four months of this baby business. One third of a year. I now know why they tell you in the beginning to be prepared for a time consuming situation and I should have heeded that warning a little more seriously. This seems like it's been going on a really long time, is all I'm saying.

But whatever. What else did I have to do the past few months anyway, right? Haha.

I peed on yet another stick this morning, and though it brought bad flashbacks to a couple of weeks ago, this time it was just to see if I was ovulating. Which it said I am. When I called Monique (she's on my damn nerves, especially after causing me to have a freaking car accident yesterday) (yes I've decided to blame her) to report the results, she said and I quote "Ruh-Roh." Huh? I thought you said only yesterday that if the test was positive, we go forth with the IUI on Saturday instead of Sunday - what's the biggie? But no; a positive test result was not good enough for Monique, that pain in the ass - she wanted me to go in and get MORE blood drawn just to make sure. Sweet Christ.

But okay, I hung up with her and hurried on downtown, made it there in twelve minutes, got pricked yet again (left arm now has serious track marks) and paid another seventy bucks just to confirm that yes, the test was correct. Now I no longer need to get an Hcg shot (What? Gee willicers, my night just won't be complete without Brian giving me an injection!) and everything's a go for tomorrow morning's trip to Charleston.

We have to be there by 10:00 and she warned me that the Cooper River Bridge Run is also tomorrow morning, so we'll probably run into some horrendous traffic which I'm very excited about.

Despite everything I just said (bitched about would be the more accurate term), I am still excited about everything. It sometimes takes awhile, for us anyway, for good things to come to us, but they always do eventually. Patience has never been my strong suit, so even though it sounds like I'm angry and bitter it's mostly just me blowing off some steam. I do recognize the positive in all this. If I do end up getting a kid, that kid will eventually fuck up and look at all this extra guilt making material I already have:

"Do you know what I went through just to have you and now you think it's okay to make a "D" in Algebra?"
"But Mom, you never even PASSED Algebra!"
"Don't talk back to me, Young Lady/Man!"

I am happy, it's just not totally obvious right now.

In other news, Delorme just stopped by to say hi and I was happy to finally be able to give him his long overdue birthday present. Except when I handed him the six pack of the German beer, only five beers were present. He laughed and said had Brian been here, he would've shared it with him anyway. I think I'm going to smack him in the mouth when he gets home, just for fun.

I gave it to him in the rear but he was cool about it

I tweeted, twatted or whatever the hell the other day "Just when you think it can't get any worse someone sneaks it in your butt." Oh, the prophetic nature of that statement. That's why you'll never hear me say something stupid like, "It just can't get any worse!" because OF COURSE IT CAN AND IT USUALLY WILL!!!

Money has been a major issue for over week. Add to that the general stresses of a busy work week, a broke-down truck (it's fixed, praise Jesus) and many more doctor's visits with all the poking, prodding and important time-sensitive activities that go along with all that. Just today I was back there again, with strict instructions to be waiting on a call from Nurse Monique to give me further instructions. Of course she called while I was racing back to work in a monsoon from running errands on my "lunch hour."

I was stopped at a red light behind some other cars. My phone rang. I could HEAR it; I could not FIND it. While searching frantically through the black hole I call a black purse (swapping that bitch out tonight, I can tell you that much), my foot slipped off the clutch and I bonked into the car in front of me. Hard. Fuckitty Fuck. While I sat there in shock for a second, I noticed his license plate was of the South Carolina state government employee variety. Aces!

We both got out and proceeded to inspect the damages. I was already trying to calculate how much our insurance would go up, but was having a hard time seeing any damage to his car. He couldn't see anything either and then it hit me. I knocked on my front fender area and said, "Oh, I forgot - this car is plastic!" He kind of laughed, inspected his shit for another few seconds and said, "Well, alright. Thanks for stopping anyway." I said, "No, thank you Sir!" FOR BEING THE COOLEST GOVERNMENT EMPLOYEE EVER!!! The whole ordeal only lasted as long as it took the light to turn green again (which tells you how messed up the friggin' lights are around here) and we were soon both on our way again.

What. The. HELL.

Well. Thank God it ended up like that and after I stopped shaking I felt so much relief, I kind of started laughing and haven't really stopped. This isn't sane laughter by any means, but what the hey, it's laughter.

Luckily the only things I have to worry about the next few days are having sex tonight (nurse's orders, no joke), peeing on an ovulation test tomorrow and scheduling the next baby making time for either Saturday or Sunday, based on what my pee says tomorrow. After the week I've had, all that will be a total breeze.

I'm spent.

Insert witty title here

Coming soon! (Or a week from Thursday) The Baptists attempt to do a Passover sedar! Oh, if only you knew how much I am looking forward to this, but I guess now you do. So far all I know is this: they gave certain Jewish recipes to certain Baptist peoples from the church (including Iris, who's gonna rustle up some potato kugel action, which is sort of the Jew version of hash brown casserole) and they think just because it's Jew food, they're supposed to call it "kosher." I let Iris know this was dead wrong the other day, because what kosher really means is food that was prepared in a kosher kitchen, which means the dairy stuff is separate from the meat stuff - two different refrigerators, for real - and also that the ingredients have been blessed by a rabbi before they are packaged up.

I don't think she appreciated my input, but whatever. Shit's not kosher! Haha, that was funny. To me. But the potential for comedy is going to be endless at this shindig and I love comedy. Especially the unintentional kind. Brian was like, Is baked chicken Jewish, because I didn't think so. No, not exclusively, but it is a very safe choice when you're talking in terms of a bunch of weird food most people will be leery of. At least they'll have baked chicken (which I will skip) (unless they totally screw up the Jew food).

Whenever I go to the doctor now, as I'm getting ready to get half naked the nurse tells me as she's leaving the room: "I'll be right back; you know the drill." Yes I do, especially as it pertains to the fact I'm about to get drilled in the privates yet again. I can't think of an appropriate and/or funny enough way to tie this weak pun together and I'm afraid the opportunity will pass before I think of one. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Well, but anyway this morning. Doctor's office. I was pretty excited about the fact I've been tanning and while I'm not yet close to being tan, my legs are no longer translucent/glow in the dark. Also, I'd given myself a professional-level pedicure the other night, so I'm thinking those things, along with my usual groom 'n shave routine - this nurse is in for a visual treat today! Finally! What I didn't take into account when I left the house in sandals and capris was the fact of it being fifty degrees outside. Sucked. Goosebump city. Not to mention, as I was hoisting my bidness up to the edge of the couch thing and into the stirrups again, I remembered my still-prickly bright pink sunburnt ass. I hoped it would not be visible to her. Too late now.

The verdict: This time instead of two follicles the drugs produced four. So along with Ollie and Lolly, we now also have Molly and Polly. You know it. Does this bode better for my chances this time? Say like, if two follicles produced zero babies, four might produce one? I don't know, nor am I going to do any mad Googling this time to support or discount my hopes and wishes. That way madness lies and I'm not in the mood to be a crazy right now. All I know is, four follicles, still somewhat small, a few more days of shots and then Second Try. Either way, Brian is now a certified pro at giving me shots in my (almost tan!) fat roll, so that's a plus.

Later today I have the choice of going with him to visit his cousin, cousin's girlfriend and their baby all of whom are up from Florida. This is a dilemma. I like the cousin a lot, but the girlfriend nearly drove me over the edge the first and last time I met her. I wrote about it. She's the one who stared at my wedding ring for a minute then asked, "How big is your ring?" (Shari, remember when that crazy girlfriend of Forest pretty much said the same thing to you then asked you if she could try your ring on? Awkward.) I'm almost tempted to go buy a ridiculous big fake ring and seriously blow her mind. The one who after being here for a day decided that this place is full of nothing but rednecks and idiots, unlike Fort Myers, Florida where she lives - and if you knew Fort Myers, Florida like I do, you would realize the absurdity of that statement.

From the way she talked and acted, she's one of those people who are constantly keeping score on who has what, etc. and now that she has the one thing I want more than anything (a baby, just in case you're still paying attention), I don't know if I can bring myself to act pleasant around her like I barely did last time. Petty and foolish? You betcha. Catty even! Would I have a totally different attitude if I was pregnant right now? Well but of course I would! I'm just trying to keep it real, yo. I can be honest with you, right? I'm not always the pure and innocent lovely girl you think I am and this girl brings out the nasties in me. So I should probably skip the visit today is what I'm thinking. Brian thinks I'm being silly. Perhaps. He's probably a little pissed too, considering I just told him I wasn't sure if I would feel like going visiting later, though I didn't elaborate as to why. Oh well!

Uhhhh, I think that's all for now.

Perspective

I've made an effort to try not to bitch too much over the past few days...oh, a little escapes here and there because I am still myself after all, but I've mostly tried to keep the raging, obscenity-laced, whiny, tearful, irrational and almost unrelenting feelings to myself and a few lucky people. I don't get like this very often, I don't like it and I don't want to spread my misery around.

Obviously I am really disappointed with the unsuccessful first IUI. It took a few days I think for me to get over the fact that even though everything happened as it was supposed to and that there are no obvious problems, it just didn't happen this time. I also had to get used to the idea of round two, which started this morning. When you start riding the Fertility Express, all the experts advise not to live your life in thirty-day increments and to keep living your life as normally as possible. Well I tried that, but it is hard not to think about it every single day, when most days involve either peeing into a cup, getting prodded in your baby-hole, taking this pill, taking that pill, taking this shot, etc. Inspecting your underwear, for the love of God.

This morning, for instance, started with the special treat of the Day 3 ultrasound, which is a bloody mess of a good time and fairly painful as well. Again, a new nurse in training was there in attendance with my regular hole-poker and she was teaching her how to read the screen and pointing out where my eggs and whatever were. All while putting intense pressure on my girl region with the large phallic Wand of Invasion; it was a bit much today. It also caused the exam to take a full five minutes longer than most times and five minutes is a long time when you're in pain. I thought about farting on her for spite but then figured I better not. It wouldn't strike her as a revenge thing so much as it would just look like an accident and then I'd have to act embarrassed and who has that kind of energy at 8:00 in the morning? Anyway, starting tonight it's back to the pills and shots and in another week we'll see what kind of follicle action I have going on.

Which just so happens to completely screw any plans I had for going to Florida. Even postponing it for a week wouldn't really work, as Brian's truck is going to need tons more money thrown at it before it will run again. Tons. And as anxious as I was to get away for a little while and go be with people I love, I can't come close to justifying it. "Okay Honey, you stay here and deal with all this shit by yourself while I go traipsing off on vacation. See you next week!" That's not me; I guess I don't qualify to be a Real Housewife of Whatever County, because I'm quite sure any of them would have no problem with it. That's the problem with having a conscience. And a soul. And not starring on a Bravo reality show.

So yeah, I was feeling pretty poopy thinking about all this on my way back into work this morning. Then I sat down to the computer to read a few blogs while drinking some coffee (YES, I AM DRINKING COFFEE RIGHT NOW; DOES ANYONE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT???) and got a shock. A blogger I've read for awhile and really enjoy, well, her husband passed away last night from heart failure. Right around the time me and the dog were taking our nice nightly walk. It was almost a screeching tire sound effect that happened in my brain as soon as I read that. My heart broke for her. And I felt like a complete and total schmuck. THESE are the problems I'm bitching about? Not getting pregnant on the first try, postponing a vacation and car trouble? What the hell is wrong with me. Yesterday when I was at a low point, I called Brian and burst into ugly, hiccuping, hysterical tears. He does what he always does and helped me to get a grip and even made me laugh before we got off the phone. That? Is everything to me. I'm so lucky for that. I'm done complaining. I'm sure it won't last forever, but that was a little wake-up call right there.

For that lady's husband, for my Dad who passed away seven years ago Sunday and for my friend Lisa who has been gone one year this coming Sunday:

"and, when he shall die...
take him and cut him out in little stars and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night" - William Shakespeare

"Turn around and say good morning to the night/For unless they see the sky/But they can't and that is why/They know not if it's dark outside or light" - Elton John

Some of the best laid plans

Woody Allen has this great quote (well, he has a lot of great quotes and also his books are so much better than his movies and a lot of people don't know that except I do want to see Vicky Cristina Barcelona if only for the Scarlett Johansson/Penelope Cruz make-out scene) and anyway the quote is this:
"If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." He also said "Why are our days numbered and not, say, lettered?" but that's not really relevant to my point.

You know how in job interviews they sometimes ask Where do you see yourself five years from now? Just once I'd like to have the balls to answer truthfully: I have a hard time seeing where I'll be five days from now. Because I should know better than to write things down on my calendar(s), in pen anyway, until after they've occured. That is the number one way to jinx myself, such is the power of my pen to paper.

We were supposed to go bowling last night. Until Brian's truck took a dump and he spent two days working on it only to find out it's going to cost another five hundred dollars or so before it's fixed and I don't know about you, but we don't have five hundred lying around the house anywhere. Well, I shouldn't assume - you may very well have five hundred lying around somewhere, but I can assure you we do not. This might take a few days. He was gone from 7:30 yesterday morning until 9:30 last night working on it and all we did when he got home was eat bacon, watch part of a fishing documentary (still impatiently waiting for Deadliest Catch to begin) and went to bed at 10:30.

I was supposed to leave for Florida on Tuesday. Then things at work started happening so that this coming week looks a little like a guided tour through hell, the aforementioned truck took all our money and it started making a lot more sense for me to go the following week instead. And although I don't want to be cynical about it, I hesitate to get too excited until I actually wake up one morning next week, look around, and realize I'm at Sister's house. I really want to be at Sister's house.

Treat yourself as if you were already pregnant, the nurse said over two weeks ago. Okay, that's easy enough, I guess. Until I peed on a stick that turned very rude and said NO when all I asked of it was for it to say YES. I'm sorry, but NO doesn't follow along with the plans I was excitedly, if tentatively, making. In my head, not on my calendar(s) of course, because even I'm not that stupid.

"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." John Lennon said that one. So, I guess that's what's going on right now. Life sounds much better than in the interim, limbo, or purgatory. It's just life. Which is still better than the alternative.

To be continued

I guess this is the reason most people in my position would probably keep to themselves all these details in the process of trying to get pregnant. When the test came up negative this morning, the first thing I thought of was having to break the news to almost thirty people via email or text or phone call (Johnann is the only one I'd feel comfortable enough to call at 4:55 a.m. because I knew she'd been awake for an hour already, even though Heather was awesome enough to offer as well - I didn't want the first time we spoke to be this). But, that's me and it always has been. Whatever I have going on, good or bad, big or small, odds are a few people probably know about it. Which is why blogging is so great; I get to tell total strangers all my personal business!

Anyway. Negative test. And really I think the most upsetting part for me was Brian. When I went to bed last night sometime around 1:00, he was sitting on the couch watching TV. When I got up at 4:45, he was in the exact same spot. I've seen him do this a couple of times and I knew it was because he was too excited to sleep. He had that crazy look in his eye. So when I had to break the result to him I felt like I was letting him down, which has been a common theme with the whole not getting pregnant thing. I know he wants it as badly as I do and if this makes any sense, I want him to be a father as much as I want to be a mother. But as usual, he reacted by being completely positive and upbeat and said all the right things to make me feel better. And I was reminded again how lucky I am to have such a kind person who loves me. Even the doggie got in on the action, leaning in on me and crawling in my lap. He doesn't like to see Momma upset.

Not that I want to prolong the agony of waiting again, but I'm pretty sure when I call the doctor today, they're going to tell me to wait a couple of days and take another test. My period isn't due until Tuesday, so this is still considered early, the test is supposedly only 50-something percent accurate today and blah blah blah. Should the next test show the same result, we then make the decision to start the process all over again, which is most likely what's going to happen. For someone like me, this is an extreme test in patience. But the way I'm choosing to deal with it is to still feel lucky. This isn't the end as Brian said, and he's right. This only means when it does happen I'm going to be able to appreciate it that much more.

Hitting the home stretch

I made the mistake of paying all the bills that were due, so we were poor this weekend. I hate when that happens. The weather was crappy too, so I figured a good plan would be to make a library run and for once I made him come with me instead of going alone with a list for him that says "WW II, Russian History, Lewis & Clark." I hate picking out books for him. And just like I thought, he picked out six great books for himself and would've probably gotten a few more had I not explained to him the library will probably be here for awhile and he can always come back for more when he's done with these. He was excited with his finds and then glanced at what I had picked out.

Five books about pregnancy. Oh yeah, you know it. And here's why. I know it might be a little premature; we won't know if I'm offering anyone womb service until Thursday. I know I don't have any right getting too excited until it's officially confirmed. But you know what? It's pretty much All Pregnant, All the Time in my head right now and when I'm obsessing about something, especially for the first time, the first thing I do is find books about it. I've done it with cooking. I've done it with decorating. I've done it with writing. Books. I'm all about the books, so I'm not sure why he was so surprised. He said something like, Don't you pretty much have all the information you need by now? You silly, silly man! You really are new here, aren't you. I just looked at him like he was retarded for a minute while he reassessed what he'd just said and then came to his senses. Riiiight. It's me we're talking about, remember? I want to hear everyone's story, yes. I will read things online until my eyes bleed. But - books! Duh!

I wanted a good variety but also wanted just light reading, so this one immediately caught my eye and I loved the title: Skinny Bitch Bun in the Oven-it sounded right up my alley. Oh my God. Do not EVER read this book. I of course dove into it first, right after we got home. Not knowing it was written by two freaks of nature who must be vegetarians, vegans or just plain psychotic. I mean, I understand that a lot of sugar is bad for you, but their chapter titled "Sugar is Satan," pretty much says you are a selfish weak asshole loser who will give your baby diabetes 4-LIFE if you are stupid enough to eat anything sweet besides fruit ever again. I was horrified to learn aspartime was denied eight times when it was first brought before the FDA - could've gone my whole life without knowing that, thank you but very glad I stopped the Diet Coke a few months back, and...Jesus. It was the ridiculous fear mongoring extremism shit I normally wouldn't even take a second look at, but was fooled by the cute picture and clever marketing.

I was up to the chapter on how we shouldn't ever drink milk of any kind unless it's soy and even then not really, when I handed it over to him and asked him to take a look while I went to go throw away everything in the refrigerator and pantry. He flipped through it and showed me other stuff that confirmed I was reading a bunch of bullshit. It's already back in my car, ready to be dropped back off tomorrow. Thank GOD I didn't buy this piece of crap. What to Expect was such a nice, pleasant thing to read after that.

In fact, I think it was lucky we were having a financially tight weekend; otherwise we may have ended up at Barnes & Noble (which is only another mile further than the library which is only a mile from our house) and who knows WHAT kind of money we may have wasted on unnecessary stuff. I know it hurts him to have to return a great book; it hurts me too. But that's when I make a note of the book, put it on my various want and wishlists and patiently wait for it. Hopefully I'll still be wanting to read these books at the end of this week, or should I say hopefully I'll still have a use for them, but if not, I didn't waste any money in the meantime.

Pat's a saint but I ain't

I had mentioned something awhile back about this whole Operation Knocked-Up schedule interfering with St. Patrick's Day. Gone are the days when drinking was a common occurance for me and now it's pretty much relegated to special occasions, i.e. my fortieth birthday, going out in a boat, maybe the 4th of July and St. Patrick's Day. I managed to forget about it in the meantime. Until ten minutes ago.

Delorme's birthday is tonight and a month ago I already knew what I was going to get him. He loves this German beer called Maisel's Weiss; he introduced it to me on my birthday and I liked it a lot too. Or at least I think I did; it's hard to tell how things taste after five or ten shots. He discovered the beer while traveling in Germany and gave me the whole history of touring the company's brewery, meeting the owner, etc. but I can't remember the any more of the details because I was really drunk. But, having a mind like a steel trap, I did remember he told me it's really hard to find around here and the only place he knew sold it is Greene's Liquors. That place happens to be .6 miles from my office, so a little while ago, I ducked out for a few minutes to go purchase the birthday beer.

It's weird, but even though I don't really drink anymore and am not a big fan of alcohol in general (see: Lushy Mother), I have a strong fondness for liquor stores. The smell, the neon signs, all the pretty bottles and always so many choices. The employees are always in a good mood (hmmm, suspicious) and knowledgable. And this place is friggin' HUGE - it's like the Disney World of booze. The store is divided into two separate sections; one for alcohol and the other beer and wine. Of course I walked into the wrong side first, but I looked around for a few minutes to see what new and exciting things are available and there are quite a few. I then went to the beer side and found what I was looking for immediately, which makes me think I have a nose for this type of thing which makes me worried. But it didn't matter - there was a distinctly festive air about the place - it was pretty damn crowded for an early Friday afternoon during Spring Break, everyone was wearing green beads and hats and t-shirts in preparation for the St. Patrick's Day thing in Five Points tomorrow...it was all so damn celebratory.

We're not going to the St. Patrick's Day thing tomorrow, because we promised we'd help the rednecks finish moving into their new trailer. Also because it's one big day-long drunkfest, which is fine if you're drinking, but probably not as enjoyable if you're not. I will try to block out the memories of last year and years' past with how much fun this day always is. Luckily the weather is supposed to be shitty so that'll help.

So, pretty much, no St. Pat's celebrating for me. And you know what? If there is something actually growing in my uterus I will be completely fine with that. If there isn't, I'm going to hurt someone; just add this to the list of reasons.

But nobody is going to stop me from wearing green and cooking corned beef and cabbage Tuesday. Take away all the alcohol you want, but do not take away holiday food. And if you've ever heard anything about corned beef not being good for you if you're pregnant, please...please keep it to yourself. No. Tell me. Seriously.