Definitions

My top 5 resolutions (yes, there are more, less appropriate for the interwebs)::
1. Start smoking. I figure I need to ramp up to 4 packs per day to catch up to family and friends.
2. Swear more. Because there's nothing like telling your boss you need an effing raise to buy more coach bags and manolo blahniks.
3. Buy more fur. Who does PITA think they are anyways?
4. Spend more. Nothing says recession like coach bags and manolo blahniks.
5. Make an effort to stop exercising. Because 10 pounds on clomid, progesterone, and trigger injections is just never enough.




In the final hours of 2009 I'm left reflecting on the year, as many of you are. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

The ugly...

Tiger woods. Nuff said.
Octomom... Need I say more?
Kanye... Douche bag.
Failing 2nd cycle of clomid. (100mg was a bust)

The bad...

By far the fullest category this year. I would sooner have a lifelong case of pink eye before reliving 2009.

The heartbreak is as fresh today as it was 10 months ago. I know many of you know the heaviness of carrying a broken heart on a daily basis. I hope that 2010 brings a way for us to be at peace on many different levels.

The good...

It's a double edged sword for me to even think about any good that may have come out of the hurt we've felt this year. I think it's a readiness thing, and I'm just not there yet.

Definitions...

When I think back on this year the loss is the only thing I can think of. It's a defining life event. My life is becoming defined with the loss and infertility. I struggle with feeling connected to the loss through my ongoing hurt and making this defining piece of my life a positive.

I'm not sure how, but my goal for 2010 is to figure out what I can do to have a positive impact on others because of my life experiences.

I'm not saying I'm going to move to a 3rd world country and start going by Mother Kansas, but I'm not going to allow negativity to define me any longer.

What defines you for 2009? What's the good, the bad, and the ugly of you year?

I'm thinking of you all tonight and the things you've been through this year. I hope you all are enjoying some r&r over the holiday weekend.


I look forward to seeing where 2010 takes us.

Birth days

Friends, the day of my birth was yesterday. Someone tell me please when the numbers start going in reverse... .... ... anyone? ...

Flo, at the DMV, kindly reminded me that the weight number never goes down either... thanks Flo. At least she's honest, right? Yes, she is an honest 65 year old woman with her tires slashed. Happy holidays Flo!

Let's be frank, getting older blows for many reasons. I know, you just blacked out from shock, right? I'll give you a minute if you need to get some paxil for the ingenuity of my most recent revelation.... Bring some back for me too...

There isn't really any stellar news to report this week. We've upped the Clomid to 100mg. 5 Follicles made, but on Day 14 they are still not ready to be triggered with an injection. WTF, right?

If I had a biography it would be titled "WTF." Because I love WTF, OMG, BFF. And, why not?

Double the clomid is double the fun. Because half the hot flashes is just never enough.

It was a whopping 18 degrees here in the northeast this morning as I was on my way in for the bazillionth vagi cam appointment this week, and having the hotflash of a lifetime. I rode all the way there with the sunroof open. No jacket. I shit you not. I can't wait to up the dose to 150mg next month.

If I can get this hotflash to last for another 4 months, this winter may not be so bad.

Clomid: Chaos, migraines & hot flashes predominate - my work here is done.

Me: whore.

This is the priceless information that would go in my book.

Holiday Cheer Hijacker

Internets, it’s a BFN. I know, shock and awe… blah blah blah How can I be filled with The Christmas Cheer and not full of The Rage? The Hysteria? How can I not be telling people off in the grocery store in fits of crazy?

How can I be decking the halls with boughs of freaking holly when my ovaries have staged a walk out?

I’ll tell you friends…

It’s called, How to Turn a Sweet Christmas Miracle, into, Selfish Scheme to Give Kansas the Warm and Fuzzies. Because let me tell you… I am not about the warm and I am not about the fuzzy.

We’ve “adopted” a child from our local foster program to buy Christmas gifts for. His name is Sean and he’s 3 years old. When I got Sean’s Christmas list all it had on it was Lego’s. Cue the tears, and not the It’s A Wonderful Life, kind. Picture Marley & Me type hysteria.

Now, before you go soft on me, remember the scheme.

This is not about a child who might otherwise give up on his belief of Santa. Or learn about the cruelty of the world at much too young of an age. It is also not about his exhilaration on Christmas morning waking up to every type of Lego product available in the US. It’s not about the smile on his face, or the hope in his heart.

Okay? So get those dirty images out of your head. This is about me. And contrary to popular opinion, being hopped up on hormones does not give me the warm or the fuzzy. Unless you mean The Warm in a hot flash kind of way, and The Fuzzy in a blistering migraine kind of way. I just want to be clear.

In case you’re still following in a Christmas Shoes kind of way let me reiterate the selfish nature of this mission.

By doing this, seemingly selfless act, I am filling myself with the warm and the fuzzy (the non hormone flavor), thus easing the blow of the most recent flurry of bad news.

So, the next time you get 5 inches of snow in the beginning of December (or a BFN for the gazillionth time in a row, but who’s counting) and you feel like rapid firing 3 dozen sugar cookies up Kris Kringle’s jolly red ass, do something selfish, get some warm and get some fuzzy.

The secret

Omg, quick somebody ask me what CD I'm on!!! ...because I have no idea! How can this be that every second of my life has not been devoted to CD's, minutes, seconds? Don't get me wrong, I still know the first day I can do an hpt.... (One week from today, ahem).... I guess it's because I have no hope, er... expectations for this month.

Note to reproductive self: like a knocked up high school drop out, you have screwed up so many times that I have ceased having any realistic expectations from you. You will not go to college and you will not marry your baby daddy.

So, there it is. The secret to mental bliss during the fight against if. Better yet, the secret to mental bliss during the 2WW. Try it out, maybe it'll work for you.

Okay, the truth is... I went in on CD11 for a follie check. There were 2 jumbo sized, ready to rock. Super.omg.getout. Much excitement over this cuz #1 the clomid worked, holy crickee. #2 it before day 20 (my "normal" ov day). #3 there were 2! Joy and joyness a Christmas miracle, double the chances!
That was a thurs, Dr. Poc said I'd ov that weekend...

That weekend came and went... No positive opk. For realz. Visualize balloon losing air.

On the Monday following I went in for blood work and did the trigger injection. This put ov to day 17. Less than stellar, but still acceptable.

Now... What day are we on? Who knows, who cares. I have a feeling it didn't work. That my hopped up on hormones self, hot flashes, and migraines were all for nothing. What's the plan for next month? I haven't the foggiest. Don't know, don't care.

Oh, and also, the onslaught of December has made me realize that I have ovulated a whopping grant total of 2 times all year.

Tell me, have you been through a Who Gives a Crap phase? And, how long can I look forward to it? Cause I am not minding the view from here.




Note: I do not think HS KU drop outs are worthless. If you are one, or are a recovering HS KU know that you are very worth-ful(?)... Example used for illustrative purposes only. Please don't send me hate mail. Kthxbye

Public Service Announcement

WANTED
PREDICTABILITY

Predictability has been on the run in the Northeast US for approximately 15 years. Several attempts have been made to apprehend Predictability, including: BCP's, various hormone cocktails, and several hidden vagi-cam investigations. Current efforts include 50mg Clomid Days 5-9. Predictability has managed to allude all our efforts to date. If you have seen, or may know where Predictability may be hiding, you are urged to call our annonymous tip line.

Memoirs of a vagi-cam

I casually made the suggestion to my vagi-tech that it may be time for me to invest in my very own vagi-cam. She said that would run me an easy 300k. An ice breaker. As if I need one with this woman, she's seen my vag more times than my wax lady at this point (mostly because, oh yeah, I don't have a wax lady).

She leads me into the room, tells me I know what to do. I agree that yes, I do know what to do, but... Today is Day 3... She says, "not to worry, it's just the same, except you'll want to take your tampon out." Right, because I don't want it to become a nose plug.

You guys were right it was nothing at all. Nothing to even give a second thought. Clomid starts Friday and goes through tuesday, days 5-9. Oh, and my fun cyst has doubled in size. Clomid should be like a nice jolt of steroids for it. Fun! Next vagi-cam: 1 week.

This is how we do it

Friends, I am not going to dance around the uncomfortable nature of the question I need to ask. It’s not my style, plus, I think we’re beyond the sugar-coating.

I have a Day 3 vagi-ultrasound tomorrow. transvaginal, if you want to be grown up about it, which I don’t. Basically because I think “vagi” before anything makes it most hilarious. i.e. vagi-vitamin (aka progesterone), vagi-wipey (aka personal cleanliness products), you get the idea.

I am not a stranger to the vagi-ultrasound. On a scale of 1-10, vagi-modesty is easily at a 1. After so many miles on the IF highway, vagi-caution is thrown to the wind.

I have more concern over the Day 3 aspect of the appointment. You see, I’m worried that Day 3 will be the most ickticious day of my days.

The only time I have been… ahem… examined during this time was when I found out about the EP. They gave me vagi-wipey’s (see above) but it was a hot mess. I know these people are professionals and they deal with it all the time. Right? I mean, don’t they?

Internet bff’s, please tell me you’ve been there/done that and it’s not half as bad as I’m making it out to be. Please!!!

That's what she said

No news is good news, right? Wrong! How is it that statement can be true everywhere but the IF community? Bunch of dysfunctional rejects that we are.

To boil it down to one sentence, I never got my period last week, as Dr. Piece of Cake thought I would. How did I know an appointment with the magical vagi wand would be in my future? Call it intuition. I went in this morning.

She called a little while ago to say that the “spot” on the ultrasound is still there. And my blood work shows I should be mid cycle. Impressive, for someone on CD21.

I’m supposed to call her on Nov. 9th, or on CD 1, which ever comes first. She also wants me to call if anything weird starts going on.

Me: “Weird? How exactly would you define “weird” at this point?”

Dr. POC: “Abdominal pain, etc.”

Me: “Oh, you mean the abdominal pain that I’ve been having for the last 2 weeks? The slip n’ slide CM I’ve had for the last 5 days? Or the toss my cookies onto a plate of cookies nausea I’ve had for the last two days?

Dr. POC: “Yes, but I can’t find any specific reason for those symptoms in your blood work or ultrasound. They must be coincidence.”

Me: “Right.”

I am a marvel of modern medicine. I should be encased in the Smithsonian and labeled as “Inexplicable, Unpredictable, Unreliable Bodily Functions.”

Let me ask you this: how does one’s body become so effed up in the first place?

This is a joke. Except I’m the only one laughing, the crazy person laugh.

The thought of seeing another doctor is not one that has escaped me. I worry about seeing another doctor though for insurance purposes. Dr. POC submits my insurance paperwork as “ovarian dysfunction,” which my insurance company is happy to write the checks for. 12 visits per month? No problem!

Should I go to a new doctor, go through the gamut of testing all over again, and they code my paperwork as “lame assed infertile,” my insurance company will tell me to turn around and grab my ankles. Is there an option for lube? I doubt it.

The next doctor we see will be an RE, which will be when we win the lottery. In the meantime, I’ll stick with weird.

My middle name is false alarm

Would you like the Classic mind fuck? Or the Down & Dirty version?

I called Dr. POC on Friday to let her know I hadn't been feeling well for quite a few days. She didn't think it had anything to do with the last injection. We chaulked it up to bad Chinese Food, knowing that I had a follicle check scheduled for today, if there were any issues, she'd find it then.

After the ultrasound, I wait in the waiting room where there are 13 parenting magazines, and 1 Us Weekly. From said waiting room I can hear Dr. POC discussing with the ultrasound tech and the bloodwork girl. I hear one of them on the phone spelling my last name. I hear Dr. POC talking about blood type, rhogram (sp) shot, etc. etc. etc. I start flipping the hell out. Dr. POC calls me back and shows me ultrasound pics of what she thinks is a pregnancy, in the correct place. I ask her if she is tripping the hell out because I had my period 13 days ago. A normal one. And I haven't been taking my vagi vitamins, and I've been having bad right side pain. She assures me it is not another ectopic. They're going to draw blood, tests, tests, tests...

Two hours later I'm lying on my couch, letting my vagi vitamin digest, when Dr. POC calls. Uhm, yeah, remember when I said you were KU? Uhm, sorry for the confusion, but you're not.

The consolation prize? She's not 100% sure, but she thinks it could be either a collapsed cyst or a chemical pregnancy.

She wants us to skip trying this month. My blood work looks like I'm going to get my period again any day now anyways. When I get my period again she wants me to call and schedule another ultrasound to confirm whatever the hell is going on in there is resolved. Super. We'll throw the trigger injections into a meat grinder and go with clomid next cycle. More "predictability."

I'll give you something to predict. It's called my freaking nervous breakdown.

Now, to more important decisions... which crib set to pick out for my cyst? The Madison or the Gabriel?



Bad Chinese? Really? Cause I think I can tell the difference.

At this point, if I don't land in the hospital before the end of the year I'll consider it a great success (in by best Borat impression)!!!

Over the top

Big thanks to AnxiousMummyto3 for the award:) Her blog is one of my favorites. Her writing is fluid and powerful. I savor each post with a deep hunger because I can identify with her so well. AnxiousMummyto3, thank you for writing with such a relatable honestly.

Here are the rules:
1. you can only use one word!
2. pass this along to 6 of your favorite bloggers
3. alert them that you have given them this award
4. have fun!

The Fun Part:
1. Where is your cell phone? charging
2. Your hair? mess
3. your mother? honest
4. Your father? handy
5. Your favorite food? fries
6. Your dream last night? work
7. Your favorite drink? cosmopolitan
8. Your dream/goal? BABY
9. What room are you in? study
10. Your hobby? yoga
11. Your fear? control
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? here
13. Where were you last night? home
14. something that you aren't? quiet
15. Muffins? blueberry
16. Wish list item? nada
17. Where did you grow up? northeast
18. Last thing you did? changed
19. What are you wearing? comfies
20. Your TV? asleep
Your pets? woof
Friends? fantastic
23. Your life? wonderful
24. Your mood? eh
25. Missing someone? k
26. Vehicle? jeep
27. Something you're not wearing? tiara
28. Your favorite store? banana
29. Your favorite color? pink
30. When was the last time you laughed? afternoon
31. Last time you cried? yesterday
32. Your best friend? bw
33. One place that I go to over and over? fridge
34. One person who emails me regularly? k
35. Favorite place to eat? whereever



I would have been due yesterday. There is just no other way to put it than directly. If I had stayed pregnant and if I had a healthy pregnancy... that coinciding with pregnancy and infant loss awareness month has been why the mood has been heavier in Kansas lately. I had originally written a post about my dead baby issues, but decided not to post it. For now.

It's a winding road. Grief. You just never know where it's going to take you. You're moving along just fine. But then you see something or hear something that brings back the new car smell. It's not as easy as asking for directions and getting back on track. Sometimes you just go around in circles, unsure of how to resume the journey. You take steps, even when you're sure you cannot possibly take another. Even when it would be easier to admit defeat and quit.

Baby steps. I hated the term when I was in the hospital, and even now. The irony drives the burning even deeper. I'm making small steps out of the dark and stormies, back to version Kansas Lite, I'm just not sure when I'll make it. I'll let you know when I get there.

Now... for the moment we've all been waiting for... (((drumroll)))

I'm passing the Over the Top award on to:
1. Maybe if you just relax
2. The Winding Road to Parenthood
3. Life and Love in the Petri Dish
4. I'm a Smart One
5. Take it One Gigantic Earth Shattering Crisis at a Time
6. If it's not one thing, it's your mother

I am a wing away from being a wing nut

You know it’s unseasonably cold when you’re at work and the fire alarm goes off and you think, there is no way in hellz I am vacating this premises for a drill. It’s 46 degrees out today. It’s cold, even for us in the northeast, for October.

It was even colder this morning at 6:30am. Roughly 32 degrees. Imagine me, in my pajama’s, un-brushed teeth, bra-less, without my glasses, running around my neighborhood like a crazy person.

If you’re thinking I was sleepwalking, which would be very likely for me… As I have a pathological history of sleep walking and talking. We were on a cruise this past February when I ran out of our room into the hallways of the ship because I had a dream the ship was taking on water. I was well into the hallway before I woke up. I wish it weren’t true, okay. Don’t judge me.

So if you’re thinking that’s what’s happening here, you’re on the right track, but wrong train.

I got up this morning, like I do every morning, and let my dogs out. After I let the dogs out I feed the cats, fill up the dogs bowls, give everyone water, go pee, then let the dogs back in. 10 minute process, give or take.

This morning, though, I went to let the dogs back in and only Benson was standing there…


I let him in, called for Roxy, and went to do something else while she wrapped it up.

A few minutes later I went back, and she still wasn’t there…. Open the door, call her… nothing… Step outside… See the fence gate swinging wide open.

Now you have an accurate picture of me, in my pj’s, un-brushed teeth, bra-less, without my glasses, running around my neighborhood like a crazy person.

K was still in bed. I didn’t want to take the time to go back into the house to get him when she’d been out for nearly 10 minutes.

I didn’t know which direction to go. I started to panic. Hyperventilate. Anxiety attack. Tears. I’m imagining the worst. I’m imagining that I’ll never get to see my smoochy girl again and I get even more hysterical.

I see that my neighbors garage is open. I go over there thinking maybe she went in there. No luck. I turn around to go home and get K when I see my little miss come strolling up the road...


I carried all 62lbs of her home. And hugged her on the kitchen floor for 20 minutes.

It makes me realize how co-dependant I am on her. I’m conveying human emotion and need for a child onto my dog, I know it’s not healthy, but it’s the phase I’m at.

Since the loss, I have put my displaced feelings of hurt and failure into feelings of love and nurture for her. It’s a big task for a little girl to carry, but she does it well. It’s like she knows how much I need her.

If anything happened to her I would just fall apart. Plain and simple. She’s getting micro chipped on Saturday. And the fence is being fixed.

How about you? What are you co-dependant on?

Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness

I want to take a moment to acknowledge Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day. And recognize each of you that have been through a pregnancy or infant loss. I know how hard it is. And I know that even though there is an “awareness” day that people who have not been through it would prefer to be unaware (with the exception of the IF community;o).

Did you know that JFK and Jackie suffered multiple losses? Jackie had a miscarriage in 1955, and a still birth in 1956. In 1963 their son, Patrick, was born 5 weeks premature and passed away when he was 39 days old due to complications. He passed just a couple of months before the assassination. I can’t imagine the hurt that Jackie must have felt.

For those that have experienced a loss, my thoughts are with you today. Know that I know your pain. I know that you learn how to be functional again in the wake of a loss, but the true raw ache never really goes away.

If you want to take a moment to remember a loss, please feel free to do so here. No emotion is off limits here, ever.

Warning: Flagrant Profanity

There is always some sick and twisted son of a bitch flaunting it in my face! I work in sales for a fortune 500 insurance company. I received an email today sent to my office and a neighboring office with the following message...


CONGRATULATIONS TO
CHRIS AND HIS WIFE, BECKY
NUMBER 5 ON THE WAY!!!


Really? There is a dumbass that exists that thought this email would be appropriate to send to 75 people in a professional setting? Why stop with our 2 offices, why not send it to the entire goddamn company? Because jesus christ, we are all just beaming with joy for Chris, Becky, and Cinco.
And why wouldn't we be gloriously happy for Chris, Becky, and Cinco? They have been blessed with the fertility of bunnies and I am just a cranky infertile. So please, continue sending out the most ghey images of sparkling teddy bears, and don't mind me while I go out on Mental & Nervous claim.

I just threw up in my mouth.

My response: Please remove me from your distribution list, you fucking retard.

Crazy is as crazy does

Things I google at work for which one day I will be fired:

Difference between progesterone cream, patches and suppositories
-because contrary to popular opinion, no I do not love shoving pea sized vagi-vitamins into my lady business, all the while trying not to poke myself in the ass with my other fingers. Tasty image, right?

Can progesterone suppositories cause constipation?
-because there’s nothing better than being bound up while on vagi-vitamins. Come to think if it… if I did “accidentally” poke myself in the ass it might get things moving in the bum department. Although, I am absolutely unwilling to experiment with this method.

Are stool softeners safe to take during pregnancy?
-because I am one of those dumb hopefuls that thinks she might… just might… be preggo every single 2WW. Although, I never am.


This brings to mind the definition of insanity. Repeating the same action and expecting a different result. This makes me, by definition, insane. As if I didn’t know this before, but I need Webster to point it out to me before I can commit to swallowing it whole.

We try month after month after month… expecting a different result.

We experience heartbreak month after month after month… expecting a different result.

We spend hundreds in treatments month after month after month… expecting a different result.

We have ultrasounds, injections and blood tests month after month after month… expecting a different result.

We search online for baby furniture month after month after month… expecting a different result.

We are disappointed month after month after month… expecting a different result.

Are we really crazy? Are we gluttons for hurt and disappointment? Why do we expect a different result when the past has been so reliable?

Bud Light Presents: Mr. Baking Aisle Trash Talker

Lately my blog material has been downright non existent. I’ve been thinking that I’ve been stuck in a funk and unable to see the world through my hilarious rose colored glasses. Things that would normally strike me as funny and blog worthy have come and gone without so much as a flinch.

I don’t know if it has to do with the 6 month anniversary of the loss, another failed month, or the false hope that was built up last month. Whatever the reason, maybe a combination of the three, I don’t think it matters.

I think there is light at the end of the tunnel. I believe the fog is lifting. Maybe we are making forward motion. Just maybe.

Yesterday I went to the grocery store by my work to pick up a few things for dinner (holy hot mother of god best shepherds pie recipe eva).

I hate going to this grocery store because it’s not my regular. I don’t know where anything is. It’s a 45 minute ordeal to try to find cheese and gravy (both delicious ingredients to my wanna smack myself good shepherds pie).

Visualize this:

I am coming out of the baking aisle, as another gentleman is coming into the baking aisle. In an effort not to do the right/left, left/right dance, I stop to allow him to go around me, right? I smile, and say, “I’m sorry, excuse me.”

After he walks by me I hear, “Excuse YOU!”

At this point I can’t believe what I’ve just heard and am nearly pissing my pants with laughter. I can’t wait to tell my coworkers about this. Excuse YOU! Lmao, what?!

Then, as I walk back by the aisle again, to go check out, I hear, “That’s right just KEEP ON WALKING!”

Uhm, do I know you? Did I tease you in high school or something?

I say, “EXCUSE me?!”

Crazy man says, “YOU HEARD ME!”

Oh no you di’int. Listen you crazy sonofabitch, you can’t just run around the grocery store telling people off!

But at this point I think, Wait… if this man is crazy enough to yell at complete stranger in the baking aisle, then what else is he capable of? Am I having an encounter with the un.abomber?

I decide to walk away when I hear him shouting at me 2 aisles over, “That’s right, you just KEEP ON WALKING.”

How is it that wherever I go the crazies just hone in on me? They must know I am one of them.

Bu.d L.ight Presents: Here’s to you Mr. Baking Aisle Trash Talker. I’m sorry that your life sucks so bad that you have to tell off a total stranger.

I am thankful that I am not yet that flavor of crazy.

Putting a face to the name

I hate infertility this much. :::insert arms open wide::: And I am such a juvenile imbecile that it helps me hate IF even more if I assign it an evil identity.

Like the Grim Reaper. Or Jason with his freaky hockey mask. Basically, someone’s ass I wouldn’t mind kicking.

But in my version of childish imagery IF doesn’t hide behind a cloak or a hockey mask.

In my mind, it looks something like the gigantic snot aiming to get people to purchase hoards of Muc.inex because they have gobs of snot and phlem running down their face.

You know who I mean. That sick SOB that wants to take up residence in your sinus cavity. Imagine him hunkering down for the long haul, duct taping his crap down, so that when you try to hock a lugey he will remain comfy and cozy.

Well, in my minds eye IF looks something like that, but instead of snot, it’s a shrively dried up ovary. She has hunkered down and downright refuses to blink first.

Yes, putting a face to it really helps my anger issues. Obviously.

A friend ever so gently, in a “dealing with a crazy person” kind of way, suggested I go back to my crazy doctor. I opted to go back to bikram yoga this weekend instead. Because I got on the scale on Saturday and it literally read, “FAT COW.” So. That always comes as a surprise.

Suffice it to say, the injection and progesterone supplements did not work. I had to wait 5… count them with me… 1.2.3.4.5. days for the blood test results. Because, really? Why isn’t that reasonable? To wait 5 days for results that take a maximum of 4 hours to obtain. Gah!

I actually called the Office Manager to complain. Little did I know the “Office Manager” is Dr. piece of cake’s husband.

You: You’re kidding me, right?

Me: I wouldn’t do it to ya.

Next round is TBD. That is, if I can get Mr. POC to call me back. Damn. Why do I get the feeling I will soon be shopping for a new dr.?

Flaunting it

I don’t even dare mention the last name of the people expecting their 18th, 19th, 20th , … whatever they’re up to, child. I really don’t give a flying crap what they choose to do, or how many lives they choose to populate their cult clan with. But they’ve been flaunting their fertility for 16 kids now. They are rubbing my nose in the turd of their fertility. Really, just rubbing it in. Then whacking me with a newspaper and throwing me out in the rain until I’ve learned my lesson.

With this in mind, I’ve decided to petition the D%**@!$ for their 18th, 19th, 20th, … whatever, child.

Here’s what I have so far:

Dear D%**@!$,

May I puhlease have your 18th, 19th, 20th, … whatever, child?

Thank you kindly, Kansas

What do you think? Too direct? As if they would even notice if one or two were missing from the herd.

Anyways…

As predicted I broke down and tested yesterday and today (day 8 & 9). I know this is bad for many reasons. But I wanted to see if the hcg was still in my system to give a false positive. I am happy (?) to report I got a bfn yesterday and today. But I won’t fully trust them until Tuesday of next week… So, my status at the Early Test Club has been restored.
Regardless, I’m in a bad place today. What exactly does that mean? Honestly, I’m a little fuzzy on the details. But my brother and SIL use it to define when my nephew is having a bad day. They say, he’s “in a bad place.” Is that like cutting a tooth? Or like picking blueberries on an island when your kayak floats away? Or like playing football at the beach and you lose your wedding ring? Either way, I don’t have a great feeling that the injection worked. Like when you get fried dough at the beach, even though you know what fried dough does to you, and the only bathroom around is a porter potty a half mile away. Or like when you start spotting on day 27 of your cycle even though you have your fingers, toes, legs, eyes crossed that this is the month for you. Yeah, it’s like that.

At any rate, progesterone testing is tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll have to feign some emergency on Friday to get the results. “Yes Dr. piece of cake, my ute is actually falling out right now, I think I need to come in.” I know all of you internets will be waiting with titillating anticipation.

Can someone wipe the turd off my nose?

Pins and needles

6:15am - Beep… Beep… Beep…

6:20am - Kitchen counter covered with syringes, alcohol prep pads, hcg, diluting solution. I am like a crack fiend looking for their next high.

6:25am – Fertility monitor reads High. Omg, ute?! You decided to cooperate!?

6:30am – Boxer (See Below) looks at me quizzically, “What the h are you doing Ma?” Nothing to see here, move it along!

6:45am – The deed is done… with 1 casualty… Pain, tears, hysterics over accidentally sticking myself in the thumb. Holy hot mother of god, that shit hurts. But it made sticking myself in the stomach seem like a piece of cake.

Progesterone testing is next. Not sure when that will be since I have officially worn out my welcome at my doctors office. They are screening my calls and have a restraining order against me.

I recognize that I must wait the full 2 weeks to get an accurate test reading, which will be torturous. Since I am not just a member of the Early Test Club, I am also the President. I hope they don’t revoke my membership, and my title, because who am I kidding? We all know I will be testing from 8 dpo on out.

The waiting game

I like games. We had great fun playing games this past weekend; Gin Rummy, 21. Who doesn’t have fun playing some games with friends? Games generally have rules, participants, some type of contest, a strategy, a timeframe, fun“ness.”

This waiting game does not fit into that criteria whatsoever.

Who came up with this “game?” Some joker with a seriously messed up idea of fun. Let me clue you in on a key ingredient for games… they have to be FUN. So you can take you, yourself, and your messed up games and get the hells out of here.

I know what you’re thinking… “Kansas, you dummy, it’s a phrase! Stop being so literal!”

Thanks, I needed that pistol whip this morning. Really, because this game has been going on since Thursday. I went in for the injection, but lo and behold my follicle was not big enough. They checked estrodiol and told me to come back in my next lifetime when it would be at sufficient levels for the injection.

This morning, bright and peppy 8am, I went back in. The follicle is sooper doper perfect size, lining is lovely, but fertility monitor is still on low. Wah? How can dis be? My short bus ute failing me again? Fer realz kids.

I have been instructed to carry around my injection supplies with me at all times… you know, just in case my eckstra speshul ute decides to cooperate at a moments notice.

Imagine me… at an offsite work function… at the beach… out to dinner… hanging out with friends… and back at work. With my doggie bag, because I've been carrying it around since Thursday.

My coworkers can’t figure out why I won’t just throw away my seriously stale nachos from last week. I get separation anxiety, ok? Gahd.

So here I am at work. And I can’t decide, IF I get the greenlight today, where exactly I would like to look like a crackhead and shoot myself up. In our uber nasty bathroom? Kitchen that hasn’t been cleaned in the 2 years that I’ve been working here? Conference room that leaks toilet water from the upstairs bathrooms?

So many choices, I may just put them all in a hat and draw one out.

I should find out in an hour if the estridiol is good to go.

Nomination? For Moi?

Thanks to Miss Tori for Nominating me for the Lovely Blogger Award!

I would like to thank Dan.non Light & Fit blueberry yogurt for helping me maintain souper duper mental clarity, my friends, my fans, oh I know I am forgetting someone, but I'm just so nervous. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!

I'm passing it on to

Bella

I've been stalking her blog for a while. So happy that things are falling into place for her.

Secret Lovers: Me & Chip

I feel like I can be frank with you, internet bff’s, all 7 of you. 6 of who accidentally stumbled here by Googling “Cadillac.” That was a fatal error. Now I will never let you leave. Muuahhh haaa haaa. (that’s my evil laugh, it’s scary, huh?)

I have officially stopped seeing my crazy doctor. Actually, it’s unofficial. I had an appointment scheduled, I cancelled it, and then never rescheduled. (what a cop out, she would be so disappointed in me)

I started feeling stressed out when I knew I was going to see her because I didn’t know what to talk about. That was my first clue.

I actually do miss her though, on a personal level, rather than a psychological one. She’s really sweet and nice. I thought about sending her a card and asking if we could be friends. My first thought is that might be a bit too Fatal Attraction for my style. And my second thought is that I don’t pay any of my other friends $205 an hour to hang out with me. So, the cord has been cut (terribly inappropriate phrasing). Unless I have a spastic episode in the future, in which case, I reserve the right to resume my psychological friendship with her.

Until then, she has left some pretty big shoes to fill. At this time I’d like to introduce my new friend Chip.

Internets: meet Chip.

Chip: meet Internets.

He’s waving. He’s kind of sneering though, because that’s how he rolls. He’s taken up residence on my shoulder. And he’s got mongoose like reflexes when he thinks I’ve been dissed, or someone has one upped my fucked up emotional state. Because duh, no one in the history of the world could possibly be as devastated as I am. Joan of Arc? That bitch better not dare say she had it worse off than me or Chip will wind one up with her name on it. Gawd.

Chip is always there in the clutch though. Like when my mom gave me the “Life is hard, choose God’s way” speech this weekend. Wait, Chip just thought he heard you compare my devastation and impending fertility treatments to buying a house, divorce, and difficult pregnancies. Did he get that right? Then… BAM, right in the kisser. She didn’t even see it coming. Poor mom. She should know that Chip is all business.

I’m not sure how long Chip will stick around. Hopefully not too long, he crowds my space a bit. I doubt Dr. Crazy would care for him. It’s okay, we’ll be secret lovers.

Prepare for the worst

What do cramming 7 drunks and 1 DD into a Chevy Blazer, jello shots, penis cakes, sore ass feet, and Pin the Macho on the Man have in common? I know, you could have guessed after the first clue. The festivus de Bachelorette!

I must say the bachelorette parties have thinned out in the last year. Mostly due to the fact that the majority (if not all) of my friends are married by now. This one was for my cousin, which was how I knew it was going to be a raving good time. My other cousins (one from out of state) also came, which made the trouble factor rise significantly. But it was so much fun to catch up, and party with them.

Chaz, our Pin the Macho on the Man sleazebag whore, was great fun. We hid his bizarrely decorated penises all around my house for my husband to find. It was great when I hear him shout from our room yesterday:

“Why is there a zebra print penis in my sock drawer?”

Me: “Huh, wah? Can’t hear you…”

It will be excellent this winter when he finds one in the fireplace.

The party was perfect in theory. Girls night out! What could go wrong?! But after an hour my incisions were throbbing and I thought my guts might fall out at any minute. I thought to myself: “Self, what the hell is your 27 year old going through IF treatments ass doing out here?” I sat on a bar stool for 15 minutes and rallied to finish out the night.

Despite my moment of weakness, it was a good night filled with bachelorette debauchery fun. Chaz, love you. Miss you. Hope you’re not getting salmonella on the bottom of my trash can.


In other wildly exciting news, my hcg injection is scheduled for the 20th at 9am. And we found out our insurance company is going to cover it.

Me: “What you’re going to cover a treatment for something that is medically wrong with me?”

I almost fell down the stairs ass over tea kettle when they told me. My motto with them is: Prepare for the worst. I think if I said, “Wait, let me get this straight…” one more time they would have shaken the Magic 8 ball again on me and changed their minds. So I let it go.

Internets: any advice on how to get my dh to produce his jizz sample would be hugely appreciated. I brought home a 1 pager of directions filled with "masterbation," "ejaculation," etc. They know how to turn a dude on, right? I offered to give a "hand" but how do I know when the time is right? The sample has to be provided between 8am and 3pm.

Me (from work): "Hey honey, how about we run home for lunch for a quick hand job?"

Him: "... ... ...."

Not so much.

Step right up please and get your tickets!

Omg, LPD, OPP, TGIF, HCG! WTF?! I wonder if I could write a post made up entirely of acronyms. I looove the acronyms. I hope acronyms take over the entire English language.
Moving on, as acronyms have nothing to do with anything at all, I just wanted to interrupt your regularly scheduled program to profess my love for dat crap.

I saw dr. ‘wonderful, everything is a piece of cake’ yesterday. She has always been this way; through my ep, both surgeries, getting pg in general, almost to the point of getting on my nerves. Everything seems so simple in her book. Maybe it is I who complicates everything? I’m not really going to ponder that, since I’ve stopped seeing my crazy dr., who knows what might send me hurling over the edge these days.

Moving on, again. ADHD, there’s an acronym for you. … After another ridiculously long wait in the waiting room (were talking 45 minutes here) I got in for my 15 minutes of fame. It was scheduled to be my annual, but I morphed it into another IF session. Listen, I’ll milk the woman for whatever I can after 45 minutes in the waiting room, mkay?

I told her how after last months sonogram & estrodial tests I never got a positive OPK (which I acknowledge in hindsight). And how I spent a retarded fortune on the Cadillac and it has said I’ve been on “high” fertility for the last 11 days (shocked? Mmm, me too). Through this new round of blessed information she was able to whittle the IF culprits down to 1! Now we know with complete certainty where the problem lies. OMG, GTFO! I know, it’s so exciting!

I prepare the follicle normally, estrodial rises normally… but… then… nothing. I’m not producing the LH surge to trigger ov. She has thought that I do not ov all along, but wasn’t sure why. Well now we know. Arentyousosmart.

We’re going to bypass Clomid altogether. There’s no point wasting months of that if we know if won’t work for. I’m thankful for the saved months of frustration. (I should deposit those into my frustration savings account, they might come in handy later.)

We’re going to have a sonogram on/around the 21st. If a good follicle is developing we’re going straight for the HCG injections. A few days later we will do a progesterone test, and do supplements as necessary. I must say I am a total dummy when it comes to this. And dr. piece of cake did not do the best job of explaining the steps. Like, how many injections are there? 1 per month? Does my insurance cover it? Clueless. Like Alicia Silverstone meets IF.

Ohyeah.btw.honey? you must haz your jizz tested. Did I forget to mention that? Mkay, cause you do. So.stepuptotheplate.makeithappen.

Must.stay.on.topic. I’m feeling really positive about the next steps now that we’ve finally narrowed down the problem. (which I must say explains a lot because I’ve had irregular cycles my entire life). But I am concerned about the odds of multiples (not bad though)/cost/insurance/side effects/etc. Any insights/experiences you fab internets have to share with my dirty whore blog would be very welcomed.

Hot diggity dogs

Since I have nothing to post related to my disfunctional self I thought I'd post a pic of my dogs, Benson & Roxy. Benson is in the foreground, Roxy is taking a snooze in the background.

They make me laugh literally every day.

In other news, I have an appointment with my dr. tmo. I'm thinking of giving Clomid a whirl since the Cadillac has confirmed that I have not ov'd. High fertility period for 11 days? I don't think so.

Does that blow your mind?

Someone on a message board (for ep’s trying to get pg) had some pretty bitch slap comments for me this morning that I feel the need to address in case some others feel that I am a pathetic, overanalyzing, obsessed, controlling piece of shit .

(which I am all of the above. But god, I feel the need to save face, mkay?!)

I was being my fun self (as if I could be any other kind of self) and asking the girls about what types of fertility monitors they’ve used (see post below).

We are laughing and discussing the contraptions I’ve discovered and seeing who’s tried what.

And I get a note from Mrs. Not Fun Wants to Spoil Everyone Else’s Fun (how on earth does she sign that? I’d shorten it to Mrs. NFWSEEF).

Anyways, Mrs. NFWSEEF says to stop drinking and eat right to prepare for another pregnancy. Thank GOD she has told me this because I have been drunk since 2007 eating burritos and chili dogs. Damn it, if I had only known.

Then she says you have to chill out, because it won’t happen if you try too hard. Guilty, but that is such a bull shit statement. AND what about the people that don’t try at all? What about those mother….. ? AND what about people with ACTUAL MEDICAL diagnoses contributing to their IF, what about that Mrs. Smartypants, I mean, Mrs. NFWSEEF?

She does not do OPK’s or anything of the nature because someone told her it adds too much pressure. Who is this “someone” and what the flying fuck do they know about anything? I wouldn’t trust where they think you should buy salami from, never mind take their dumb ass opinion on fertility. Cease and desist taking advice from this person. Immediately.

In summary, Mrs. NFWSEEF, thank you for bitch slapping me up one side and down the other because you clearly have so much experience and good luck with getting knocked up that I would obviously want to give a rip about your advice. And I find the suggestive nature of your comments to be really annoying.

(in reality, my note back to her said something along the lines of: You raise some very good points. I’m going to give them some strong consideration.) That’s BS, I will do no such thing. End of story. I don't think I need to elaborate anymore on this.

It ain't right. And you know who you are...

Can I have the floor for a minute (or maybe 60? You dirty wannabe therapist whore of a blog)? I am in a fit of psychosis today over the amount of products marketed to infertiles. These filthy two timing bitches know that the infertile community will buy hoards of their ridiculously overpriced products based on promises of conception. I’m sure you’ve seen them. They market everything from lubes and vitamins to microscopes and digital monitors. You can basically spend a fortune. But it’s worth it, right? I mean, if it works. That’s what we tell ourselves anyways to rationalize the expenditure.
Uhm yes Uncle Sam, I spent $10,327 last year trying to get knocked up and I cannot see why that is not a tax write off. Someone.give.me.something.to.work.with.here. Fer real.
Wait a tick… did you say microscope?! What am I a freaking scientist!? That’s right kids. For a lovely $49.99 you too can buy a fertility microscope (because you are not NEARLY obsessive enough as it is) so that you can overanalyze saliva. Believe it or not, the microscope has received excellent reviews. And this device does not require you to purchase test strips! It tests SALIVA, not blood, or urine or even delicious cervical mucus. I just threw up in my mouth with the image of sticking a microscope up into the lady business. We need to move on.
Just as I am considering spending the ridiculous $49.99 on the microscope (because let’s face it, if I get the microscope I have to dig out my pocket protector and my retainer and nobody wants that) I find something even more expensive to blow my hard earned dollars out the window on, a digital fertility monitor. This contraption is on SALE for $142.99. Non sale prices range from $185-$250. And these prices do not include the test strips which will run you $45 for a 30 day supply. Bend over and grab your ankles because you are about to take it in the heiny. But this genius of modern technology detects 2 forms of ov hormones (LH & estrodial), where others only detect 1 (LH). When I find myself actually considering spending this ghastly amount of money on my very own “Cadillac of fertility monitors” I know I have officially lost it. In an attempt for redemption I look on craigslist. Maybe I can find a used one for less? And I do!!! Oh my, it is my lucky day because I found a used contraption for $50!!! Then it strikes me that the thought of inserting MY pee stick into a device that someone else has put THEIR pee stick into is infinitely disgusting. And the vag microscope is suddenly looking more appealing. (okay okay, it’s not for the vag, but I like calling it that).
I will be proceeding myself directly to CVS after work to charge my Cadillac on my credit card, because it’s worth it, right? I mean, if it works;o)

I'm going to need an old priest and a young priest

AF got word that I hate her and want her dead, now she is trying to kill me.

Send morphine, send vicodin, send percocet!!!

Countdown to ov: 20 days.

X + Y = Z

AF + BFN = I am a dumb whore who wasted an $8 hpt to test even though I’ve started to get AF.

AF + BFN = Cookie dough for breakfast

Cookie dough for breakfast + Godiva chocolaty flower goodness = It’s going to be a 5,000 calorie day friends, and I’m going to enjoy every bite of it.

Can I just say...

I am sick and tired of people telling me not to worry that I'll have another baby someday. It's not about my ability to have a baby. It's about how the loss of my first pregnancy is affecting my life. Don't reduce what I've been through because you have no idea what it's like. Like having a baby will suddenly make it all okay? Guess what? No matter how many children I go on to have someday I will never forget what I have lost. Ever. Having a baby is not the magical cure for babyloss. Having a baby will not make my heart hurt any less for what I have lost. It's like telling someone that's newly divorced "don't worry, you'll get married again someday." how dumb is that? Seriously.

Oh, you didn't get the memo?

You know that feeling when you have just taken a kung fu shot to the gut? Allow me to explain…
My brother calls last night. When I didn’t answer (I was in my garden) he called Keith’s phone. Didn’t leave messages on either phones. Weird. I call him back we catch up on weekend and general life goings on for about 20 minutes. Semi strange. He asks about my dr. appointment this week. We talked about that and fertility in general for about another 15 minutes. Also, strange. Finally, he says he called because he wanted to tell me something. Long pause. He gets emotional, starts crying. I’m thinking, aw, my brother wants to tell me how much he loves me and how he doesn’t say it often enough, but the things I’ve been through have made him think about how thankful he is for having such a wonderful sister. Right. Then… KAPOW (insert kung fu shot to the gut). My SIL is pregnant. He didn’t know how I’d react. (wait I’m still gasping for air). He hopes I’m not too upset. (clearly not what I was expecting). Obviously they didn’t get the memo that no one in the world is allowed to get pregnant until I finally am able to produce offspring. Inconsiderate jerks. As I’m choking back tears I tell him how deliriously happy I am for them, of course I’m not upset, I’m sure it won’t be easy for me, but I am certainly not upset. Next time read your memo and we can avoid a situation like this happening in the first place.

The reality is, of course I’m happy for them. I am so happy that they don’t have to go through what I’ve been though. I would never want that for anyone. No one should ever know what it’s like to have trouble conceiving, or to know what’s like to experience a loss. It’s indescribable. Because of our differing realities with conception I feel like it makes it harder and harder for me to relate to them. I feel like I roll my eyes at people a lot and think, if you felt an ounce of the hurt I feel, then you would have a glimpse into the heartbreak that I live every day.
When we hung up the phone I exploded into tears. I’m happy that they don’t know the pain that I know. But I’m sad that I don’t know the joy that they know.
It’s not about “ever” getting pregnant. I’m not worried about that. I’m confident that someday we’ll get to be parents too. It’s the excitement and happiness around that inevitable day that I’m already missing, even though it hasn’t come yet. I know it will be filled with stress and worry, and I wish it didn’t have to be that way. Once you feel that hurt the fear that you will feel it again lingers. I hope in time that fear can fade.

In other, brighter, news, I definitely ov’d this weekend! So glad to be done with those OPK’s for a while. I definitely pee’d on multiple sticks Thursday and Friday to compare the intensity and darkness of the test line to the reference line. I stopped short of getting my microscope out because, oh yeah, I don’t have one. Seriously, you need a Harvard MD to be able to interpret those things.
To put it blunt, we did it like teenagers this weekend. Seriously. I won’t go into any more detail than that. Sunday morning though I had the smallest amount of spotting with my first morning pee (yeah yeah, tmi, I know). If it had been a week later I would’ve been all excited thinking it was implantation spotting. But I know it’s way too soon for that. It worried me a little bit, so I tried to lay low for the rest of the day and I didn’t have any more.
Stay tuned the two week wait is on and it won’t be pretty.

Questions and Answers

I saw my doctor yesterday. She explained the surgery to me in really good detail and it really makes sense with what happened with the EP. Basically, an endo adhesion was pulling my left ovary away from my left tube, thereby when I ov’d the follicle went into my uterus and was fertilized there, instead of the left tube where it should have been. It needed a place to hunker down and get cozy for a while so it pulled into the only other logical place. My right tube. So I feel good that what my dr. thought happened is actually what did happen. Props to her! Damn, she’s good.

While I was there we figured we could nail 2 birds with one stone…. Actually 3 birds with one stone. I had a trans vag sonogram to see which side I will ov from this month (if I ov at all). Turns out that I have a dominant follicle on the right side (goddamnit). I had blood drawn yesterday to see if I will ov at all this month.

I was really stressed out yesterday about the prospect of ov’ing from the right side. The left tube is definitely in much better shape than the right. I was (and still kinda am) worried that because the right tube is slightly damaged that I might have another ep. Keith says that if my dr. isn’t worried about it then I shouldn’t be worried about it. My dr. said she has no worries that the right tube will function correctly. The ultrasound tech also said the right side looked good. So, I guess I’m going to try not to worry about it. Although I have to be honest, the scary reality of having another ep is staring me right in the face and freaking me the fuck out. Almost to the point of wanting to wait until next month, but there’s no guarantee that I’ll ov from the left side next month. I could ov from the right side again. There’s no telling. And I certainly can’t go back to my dr. every month for a sonogram and blood work (although I joke with her staff about it, I don’t think they think it’s funny).

Finally, I just got a call from her office… turns out my estrodiol shows that I will ov in the next day or two!!!! Even though I’m worried, I’m still very exciting to know that I am ov’ing ON MY OWN! Without fertility drugs! Thanksyouverymuch! So, that is great news.

I just peed on an OPK stick… at work. Gross, I know! But today is our anniversaryJ and we’re going right out to dinner from work, so basically there was no other time to take it. Getoverit. I’m staring at a pee stick at my desk as I type (I put it in my glasses case, clever, right?!). The line is MUCH darker than previous days. I think tomorrow is going to be the positive day, and I’ll ov on Saturday. That is my google MD estimate.

Anyways, happy anniversary to us!

Tales from the OR

Safe to say that I was, ahem, anxious about the surgery. Well, it went well. Way better than I expected. It was a walk in the park compared to the last surgery.
On a scale of 1 – 10 the first surgery was a 10 and the second was a 0. People kept saying to me, “oh but the emotional aspect of the first surgery is what made is so much worse.” Uh, no people, I don’t think you’re getting it. Yes, the “emotional aspect” of the first surgery was a nightmare. But physically, the first surgery was so much worse. I couldn’t shower by myself or go up and down the stairs in my house for the first 2 weeks after the first surgery. I couldn’t lift my legs onto the bed to lie down. I would sit on the edge and Keith would have to swing my legs around. The pain was ridiculous. It’s made me realize how close to dying I really was before that first surgery. Scary.
Anyways…. I made lots of new friends after this surgery. Particularly my friend nurse Joanne, you know who you are, never shy with the morphine, you hold a special place in my heart!
Speaking of morphine. Thank the LOHD that it’s not sold on the street, because I would be one happy addict if it was. Those few morphine induced euphoric hours were bliss, the best time of my life.
From what I hear I was a real riot. Keith said I kept saying “vag” and “lady business” in front of my mom. Wonderful. Thankfully, she hasn’t mentioned it.
At any rate, when I am president everyone will have access to as much morphine as they want whenever they want it. Period. I’ll make bumper stickers: Got Morphine?
In all seriousness, the surgery went well. The endo was removed, (I even got pictures!), and the dye test went pretty well. The left tube is clear as a bell, the dye flowed right through, no problems. The right tube was a little “windy.” as Dr. R put it. She said the dye flowed through, but not as well as the left side. She said the windyness was where the pregnancy was. She said there could be small amounts of endo there (too small for her to remove). This all makes me wonder if her original theory of the EP is wrong. She originally thought the left tube ovulated, egg was fertilized, then couldn’t implant in uterus because of too much endo, so it was sucked up into the right tube. After seeing pictures of the surgery, it really doesn’t look like there was a whole lot of endo in there. I wonder if it was fertilized in the right tube, but the little bugger never made it out of the windyness. I was too out of it to think of these obvious questions right after the surgery. But I’m going to ask on Wednesday when I have my 2 week follow up. She said the windyness (I hate that word) of the right tube is no cause for concern and she isn’t worried about it in the least bit. Basically, we can start doing it like animals.
I’ve stocked up on OPK’s (hella expensive), I’m on CD 14 and no ov yet. I’m trying to coax it along through meditation. Ha, we’ll see how that goes! I’ll try anything! Maybe acupuncture?
What a smorguesborgue of a post! Topic to topic to topic….
I got proactiv last week. I’ve been using for a little over a week and my skin is supah dry, but I think it’s working. I still have some breakouts on my jawline, but it’s getting better.

I am not okay

As in breathing into a paper bag. Not.okay. I am on the fast track to a fairyland place of communal living, where the inhabitants are constantly in a dream like state from the excessive amounts of meds that are shoved down their throats. This place, I lovingly refer to, is the mental institution which I am convinced I am about to be committed to.
I blame my continued anxiety on Google. What have you done for me lately Google? Why do I put myself through this sadistic mental torture?
Last night I was tempted, like you don’t want to know about, to sneak a happy little vicodin and forget about my troubles. Who needs Calgon? Vicodin, take me away!
I came in to work this morning to news that a coworker in another office had passed away over the weekend during childbirth. Apparently she hemorrhaged, the baby survived. This is so upsetting to me, I think it’s what started the anxiety this morning.
Also, one of my girlfriends is in labor today. I can’t even go there. Let’s not. We’ll “parking lot” that one.
Finally, I called my Dr.’s office and talked with her nurse about a Resident doing my surgery. I told her, in so many words, I realize that Dr. R has a medical degree from Tufts and I respect her medical knowledge, BUT my Google M.D. has better qualified me to make the call on how a Resident will play a role in my surgery. Yes I do realize that Dr. R was at one point a Resident herself. And I’d like to thank all those guinea pigs that let her practice cutting on them so I could have a fabulous physician and surgeon. thanksforyourcoorperationbuhbye. She’s going to run it by my Dr. and see if I need to sign a new waiver.
As if being this much of a spaz isn’t fun enough by itself, I get to have lunch with my boss and her boss today. Mm hm, that’s right kids. Can we go somewhere that is handing out prozac at the door? Puhlease?
As a very random side note, I have just learned that 8 people have viewed my blog! I find this hilarious because I treat this blog as my dirty mistress. Listen blog, let’s lay down the rules, I want to use you and abuse you with my filthy range of emotions, but if you ever go public on me I’ll deny it all. I do not pay you child support, I am not your baby daddy.
Omg, I have reached a new level of crazy. I have to stop myself. Clearly no one else will. It’s going to be a long day.
Keith is taking me out for dinner tonight. Hopefully I’ll have my marbles together by then!

Yes, that's right. I did it again.

My name is S-P-A-Z. But I am trying not to be. Seriously.trying.not.to.be.a.spaz. All efforts are futile. The sensible side of me is powerless against the crazy side. The more I try NOT to think about the surgery = the more I DO think about the surgery. It’s like a psychological bitch slap. You know you’re circling the drain when you wind up on Google. Google is the beginning of the end. When you find yourself making a Google search you know you have crossed the line, you’ve gone too far. You will regret it when you are on the floor crying in the fetal position in the corner of your office. Your co-workers walk by and say, Uh oh, she did it again. Yes friends, yes she did.
Reading statistics on pregnancy post endo surgery, complications from endo surgery, the reasons why endo can cause infertility, and why those reasons may not be corrected with surgery.
Basically, as eager as I was to put my uterus on display again, I am now having tormented second thoughts. I want them to look into my uterus, obtain a full report on what is going on in there, then allow me to wake up and make a sane educated decision on the future of my uterus. Because after all, my Google, M.D. has given me the knowledge to make such decisions.
I don’t want to get myself started on a Resident doing my surgery, but I digress. I’m already there, circling the drain again. I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw a fit in the hospital and demand that the Resident be there for instructional viewing purposes only. This said Resident will not play an instrumental role. Period. I should bring my Googled literature with highlighted segments about how complex the surgery can be. I will absolutely not have someone with training wheels on be removing adhesions from my still suffering from post traumatic stress disorder uterus. Uhnothankyouma’am.
I’ve got myself all nerved up. ithinki’mgoingtocrapmypants.

the 411

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been trying to contain my psychosis. I think I’ve been doing pretty well at that… most of the time. I had my pre-consultation with my doctor this morning. I love her, I love her staff, but they are never on time. Ever. I was with her for 15 minutes, but I was out of work for an hour and a half. How exactly does that work?
The surgery will be about an hour and a half. She will try to use the same incisions, but she’s not sure if she’ll be able to. I mentioned I still have quite a bit of soreness. She said she thought it might be from the endo. I disagree, but we’ll see after the surgery. She said it wouldn’t be as bad as the last surgery because of the amount of blood I lost in that surgery. After this one I should be feeling remarkably better immediately following the surgery. She said I’d be in recovery for 2-4 hours. She said a resident dr. would be doing the surgery, but that she would be there to do the “major” stuff. Um, not sure how I feel about that, but I don’t think I get a say in it. She’s also going to do an HSG dye test while she’s in there to ensure the tubes aren’t blocked.
Anyways, she gave me a prescription for vicodin after the surgery. She said we could start TTC again immediately. As in day after surgery? That would be correct. She said as soon as I was feeling up to it. Time to stock up on OPK’s! She said whenever I get pregnant again we’ll test hormones every couple of days to ensure they are doubling normally, and have a scan as soon as the hormones are high enough for an image to be detectable. I feel good about that. She said it does not mean that the entire pregnancy would be considered high risk. She said if we try clomid that would not make the endo come back faster. Although we’ve talked about it and decided to hold off on trying clomid for 3-6 months.
I mentioned to her that my skin has been a borderline nightmare since all the hormone fluctuations. She suggested proactive. I’m going to get that this week. Hopefully it will work.
I’ve got the beginning of a sinus cold coming on, she said if it wasn’t gone by Friday to call and she’d prescribe antibiotics so the surgery doesn’t get rescheduled. Also, I had blood drawn today to test my hormones: thyroid and prolactin (?, I think). I want to make sure there isn’t any other issue going on. I would hate to start TTC again and then months down the road find out there was something else wrong too.
Overall it was a good appointment. But the place is crawling with pregnant women and babies/toddlers. And there’s a daycare on the first floor of the building. Super. One of the exam rooms actually has a picture of a woman breastfeeding. There are pictures of bare stomachs every where you turn, on pamphlets, magazines, and posters. As if it’s not bad enough for me to go back to “the scene of the crime.” But I have to be accosted by preggos and children everywhere. Coming from someone with fertility issues, the place is an absolute nightmare to go to. If I didn’t love my doctor so much I’d look for a new one. Really, it’s that bad.
I just can’t wait to get the surgery over with. I know I’m going to be an anxiety attack mess until then. I’m going to a relaxation class at the hospital the day before the surgery. Better late than never, right? It’s only offered 1 day per week. I can’t go this week because I’m seeing my psych dr. at the same time the class is offered.
In fun news, we got a boat yesterday. I am very much looking forward to going to the lake for the weekend for some fun before the surgery!

Mourning sickness

The surgery is officially in 23 days. I’ve gone through a gamut of feelings about it. I went from dreading it, to being excited about the possibility of ttc again, to now, where I am a mixture of the two.
On the one hand I feel excited about the future and ttc again. The possibility of getting pregnant again is exciting.
On the other hand I feel terrified. I feel terrified of another surgery possibly causing damage to my already defunct uterus. I feel terrified of feeling out of control about the future. I feel terrified of being pregnant and not being in control of my health and being a neurotic mess about doing things “right”. I feel terrified of not knowing when to trust my instincts. I feel terrified of the fertility decisions that lay ahead of us and the amount of time remaining to make those decisions.
The decision is how aggressively we want to pursue fertility intervention. Specifically, clomid (which isn't that "agressive" really). My gut says not to resort to it for at least a few months to give us time to try “naturally.” But I know that we will be most fertile in the first 6 months after the surgery. So the dilemma is to make the most of our most fertile time or not? My doctor is advising us to start clomid immediately after the surgery. I just don’t know. Keith and I haven’t talked about it yet. We still have a few weeks to make a decision and I don’t want to beat the topic to death with him. I’m thinking about it, but I don’t feel pressured to make a decision.
I’m leaning to having a consultation with a magic 8 ball.

The surgery consult is June 2nd, two weeks away. We’ll be able to ask some questions then.

I'll take potpourri for $200

I had another appointment with my psychologist last week. I went alone this time. It was good. She really helped me understand that my lack of control over what happened and my lack of control over the future is what is giving me so much anxiety. I’m not exactly sure how to fix that yet, but I’m sure she’ll help me. She suggested setting aside time for myself each day. I haven’t done it yet, but I’d like to.

I finished the garden…

The peonies are my favorite. Keith brought me the biggest most brilliant bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen yesterday with peonies. He is so sweet, the most wonderful husband in the world.
Also, Saturday my ectopic pregnancy trust box came (great timing!). I got a couple t-shirts, pins and cell phone charms. I wore one of my t-shirts all day yesterday.

Un-mother's day

Yesterday was an emotional day for me, as I’m sure it was for many. I stumbled across a great poem another blogger wrote. To all the sweet, precious, delicate petals our flowers have lost:

Not just today.
Not just during daylight.
Not just during night time.
Always and every day.
Absent and yet so present.
Missed and so deeply loved.



1 month until my next surgery.

You can hate it or love it

I got blindsided at an open house I was doing yesterday. I never even saw it coming. Allow me to set the scene… A couple in their 70’s came to see the house. They thought the main house might be perfect for their son and his family and the in law apartment for themselves. As I was taking them through the house they were telling me about their children and grandchildren. After about 20 minutes they decided that the house had too many stairs for them. Since they had been talking about their family when they left I wished the wife a happy mothers day next weekend. I should have seen it coming… her sweet little old husband turned to me and asked if I was a mother. I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to say. I said no. He smiled and said that someday I would be. And I’m sure he’s right. But in the meantime, this mother’s day sucks. I just want to hide. I don’t want to see mother’s day advertisements or commercials. I’m taking my mother to a Best of Broadway performance on Saturday night. I’m hoping to just be alone on Sunday. It’s going to be a hard week. But I hope that the mere recognition will make it easier.

It’s like I’m stuck. But I have to make progress. I can’t stay this way forever. The countdown to the next surgery is 38 days. I hope that by the time that it’s here I’ll be doing better. But I’m afraid. What if I am this way forever? We’re seeing our psychologist on Wednesday in a positive effort not to remain lunatics forever. I shouldn’t speak for Keith. He’s not a lunatic.

In positive news, we made a new garden this weekend. I love it. It came out so nice. I love gardening so much, even though I got stung by a wasp this weekend. Ouch! It was worth it. We still have some more planting to do, which I’m hoping we’ll be able to do tonight before dark.

Confessions of a babyloss shopaholic

Does it make me crazy that I was looking at cribs on craigslist.com today? Probably not. Does it make me crazy that I was looking at cribs on craigslist.com today and actually considering purchasing a crib and changing table? Probably. It was a nice set and a good deal. So commit me already. I can’t help but think that it would be “jinxing” to get a crib set at this point. And Keith would probably think that I’d completely lost my marbles. Maybe I have, haha.
My cousin came over last night and we were knitting and crocheting baby blankets. Mostly because they’re easier and quicker to complete. And I know a couple women about to have babies in the next couple months and the thought of going to Baby’s R Us to get them gifts literally makes me want to gag. So, I’m going to make them little blankets, which is fun for me and keeps me busy.
I’ve finally emerged from the fog I was in last week. I haven’t had much abdominal pain in the last couple of days, so that has helped morale. I was supposed to get my 4th week (aka rag) on 4/23 and I haven’t thus far. I’m not too worried about it being late. I’m sure it’ll just take time to get back on track. But I’m sure that’s why I’ve been having so much pain, especially last week. Really better in the last few days though which is a welcomed relief.
I went to the lake on Saturday with my Dad. It was gorgeous, in the 80’s. We had a great time and I even took the kayak out for a few minutes which was so nice. We had a blast, I can’t wait to go again.
I’m thinking about getting a treadmill to help with my feelings of inactivity. I’m scaling back on the yoga for a while, unsure if it contributed to my soreness. And I’m nervous about causing internal damage the parts that are still healing. I figure I’ll be able to use a treadmill at least until my next surgery, and then for a few months after the next surgery too. So, if I get a used one I won’t feel so bad about spending a fortune on a brand new one. I emailed a lady on craigslist on Saturday. Still waiting for her to respond.

The funk continues...

This ridiculous dreary mood I’ve been in has not lifted. Little light has been shed on why I feel this way. But I’ve still been trying to feel my way through it. I’m just so frustrated with my restrictions and limitations. I hate that I can’t go jogging or play tennis. I can’t even fully participate in yoga. It’s frustrating beyond words. I realized yesterday that exercising has always been a coping mechanism for me, and a stress reliever. When I’m working out I don’t think about anything else. Nothing. My mind is totally clear and focused on the task at hand. Now, even when I try to do yoga I wonder if I’m pushing myself too hard or if I’m injuring myself internally. But not doing anything keeps me painfully aware of reality 24/7. I feel like so much of who I am is confused right now and I can’t even do the one thing I’ve been good at my entire life. Exercising makes me feel good, not being able to is having such an affect on my mood. Just about the time I’ll hopefully be bouncing back I’ll have to have the next surgery. It gives me little to look forward to. I hate it and I hate myself for it. Rationally thinking I know this is counterproductive towards the route I am trying to take to self acceptance. I know that I can punish myself for eternity but the gaping hurt in my heart will still ache.
I recently found out the statistics on getting pregnant again after having an EP. After having an EP my odds are 15% of having another one. I read on Ectopic.org that 65% of women get pregnant again within 18 months, and 85% get pregnant again within 2 years. Doesn’t sound bad, right? Except the underlying disturbance for these statistics is that they do not show what percentage of those pregnancies resulted in live births. How many of those pregnancies resulted in another EP? Miscarriage? Stillbirth?
At first glance they don’t seem so bad, but I don’t think they tell the whole story, which is disappointing.
I’m nervous about the next surgery. What if it wasn’t endo that caused the EP? What if there is something else I should have known about?

When you're dreaming with a broken heart...

For some reason I feel like I’ve been in a funk for the last few days. I’m just feeling down and mopey. Call it self loathing, I really don’t care. We went to Lowe’s this weekend and got some flowers for a new garden I want to start. We got a couple peonies and a blueberry. We got some geraniums for a hanging planter. It all overwhelmed me pretty quickly. I don’t know why I’ve been so down and easily overwhelmed the last couple of days. I think a lot of it has to do with constant pain in my left side. It’s like a constant reminder. And I don’t know why the pain is there. Is it scar tissue? An infection? I have no idea. The surgery was 6 ½ weeks ago. Shouldn’t the pain be getting better? And it was the right tube that the surgery was on, why is the left side hurting? It’s a constant ache. I saw people out jogging and playing tennis this weekend and I hate that I can’t do any of that. Exercising used to be such a release for me. Even yoga is borderline too much for me. I told my doctor’s nurse that it was making my side sore and she told me I should back off from it for a while. I cut down to 1 class a week. It was so nice out this weekend I wanted to go outside for a walk so bad, but I didn’t know if it would make my side hurt worse.
I hate it. And I hate myself. I know I’m supposed to be on this path to self acceptance but I just hate this so much. Will I be able to wear high heels or exercise before my next surgery? The next surgery is just looming over my head. Knowing that by the time I’ve healed from this I’ll have to undergo surgery again. It does not help me to feel optimistic. Like I can make all the progress in the world from now until June 11, only to be brought back to ground zero. And it seems like an eternity away. I feel like I’m stuck in limbo until then.
Since my last appointment with my crazy doctor I’ve been trying to think of why I’m so angry with myself, why do I feel so guilty, why do I feel like such a failure? Thinking rationally I know that hating myself won’t help anything, and I know that it wasn’t my fault. So why do I feel this way?
I did try painting a few days ago. It went well. I am by no means an artist, but it was nice to give my brain a break from myself for a few hours. I’m thinking about going to visit my grandmother this weekend so she can give me some pointers.
Here’s a picture of my painting…

It supposed to be nice this weekend, in the 70’s. I’d really like to get up to the lake to take my kayak out. It would be good to get away for a couple of days.
I saw the first cardinal of the season on one of my feeders this weekend. It was nice.

Chicken Soup for the Babyloss Soul

It's been official for quite some time, but I have to take a moment and brag that I have the most wonderful husband in the world. He is my parter and support. He is my biggest fan, and I'm his:)
I got this email from him this afternoon...


I just heard this song…and couldn’t have said it better myself. I love you!

“Then” – Brad Paisley

I remember, trying not to stare the night that I first met you. You had me mesmerized.And three weeks later in the front porch light, taking forty five minutes to kiss goodnight.I hadn’t told you yet, but I thought I loved you then.
Now you’re my whole life, now you’re my whole world. And I just can’t believe, the way I feel about you girl.Like a river meets the sea, stronger than it’s ever been. We’ve come so far since that day.And I thought I loved you then.
I remember, taking you back to right where I first met you. You were so surprised.There people around but I didn’t care. I got down on one knee right there.And once again, I thought I loved you then.
Now you’re my whole life, now you’re my whole world. And I just can’t believe, the way I feel about you girl.Like a river meets the sea, stronger than it’s ever been. We’ve come so far since that day.And I thought I loved you then.
I can just see you, with a baby on the way. I can just see you, when your hair is turning grey.What I can’t see is how I’m ever going to love you more. But I’ve said that before.
Now you’re my whole life, now you’re my whole world. And I just can’t believe the way I feel about you girl.We’ll look back someday, at this moment that we’re in and I’ll look at you and say, “And I thought I loved you then.”And I thought I loved you then.

T-shirts, charms, pins, OH MY!

I finally got some good news today. My blood work is back to normal. It brings mixed emotions. It’s good because it means that my body has and is returning to normal. It makes me feel bad though because I feel more removed from what happened.

A coworker just emailed me 121 pictures of his 8 week old baby. It was great at first. I’m so happy for him. But by about picture 87 my heart started to hurt.

Speaking of babies and newborns, I finally got to see my girlfriend’s brand new baby. He was 1 week old this weekend. I got to see her and him for a few hours on Saturday and most of the day on Sunday. He is absolutely precious. I had the best time helping her take care of him, and being there for her emotionally. It made me feel useful, which was such a good feeling.

This past weekend I decided to make an order on Ectopic Pregnancy Trust website. I was looking at their online shop, they don’t have a great selection, but it’s better than nothing! And all the proceeds go to the Trust. I’m going to get a couple of t-shirts, a few cell phone charms and a bunch of pins to put on my jackets. When I first saw them I thought to myself, “Who would wear those, it’s like an EP advertisement.” Well, I’m going to wear one. I’m going to be a walking EP advertisement. This is a part of my life and who I am and I’m not going to be afraid to talk about it. I’m not judging or criticizing anyone that would choose not to, I can certainly understand how it may be too painful for some. EP threatens women’s lives everyday. EP is the #1 cause of maternal death in the first trimester, and accounts for 10% of all pregnancy related deaths! I realize that pregnancy loss and infant death are taboo. People don’t like to talk about it because it hurts them, and it can make other people uncomfortable. EP is real and it affects people whether people acknowledge it or not. It’s real, it happened to me and it will NOT be a taboo part of my life. I will not forget it and I want everyone around me to know that. Even if I don’t talk about it everyday I haven’t forgotten about it, and I don’t want other people to forget about it either. So, I’m wearing my t-shirts, charms, and pins proudly!

Resolutions

Great news I realized today, I haven’t had a severe panic attack in a week, I’ve never had them in my life, but after the surgery I started having them quite a lot, maybe due to hormones. Crazy dr. (aka my psychologist) says it’s my body’s way of saying it’s being overloaded.

Speaking of the crazy dr., our appointment yesterday went well. I told her about the difficulty with coming back to work, my spending, my need to occupy myself, my fear of trying to paint because I’m afraid I’ll be a failure and my painting will suck. I told her about my bird pole/feeder debacle where I tried to put it in the ground and I broke it, and I ended up crying because I felt like I’d failed. She thinks I need to do some reflecting on why I feel like a failure and why I am so critical of myself. I know that the EP wasn’t my fault, so I’m not sure where that’s coming from. She thinks I should take up painting. But she thinks I should tell myself that it’s okay if my painting doesn’t come out okay.
I told her about my fear of forgetting about it. She said it’s because it’s too soon and I’m not ready to “let go of it” yet, not that I ever will. But I want to get to a place where I’m at peace with it.

I went to yoga again today. This class is the hardest of the 3 classes I signed up for. I was feeling sore before I went in from wearing heels today. I should’ve left the class early because it was really too hard for me but I didn’t. Now I’m really sore. In the last 5 minutes of class though we were laying in chavasana and reflecting. I was thinking about my appointment with my psychologist and I was thinking about something someone on an EP support group board shared with me about what she had learned after her EP, 3 years ago…
“I found peace by learning to love the new person EP made me, tragedy can make us stronger and more caring, and once I let go of wishing to go back to what I was before, I found I was happy to move on as I am.” Donna
After reading her comment I had a light bulb moment. I’ve so been wishing in the last several weeks that I could “click my heels together” and have this whole thing never happen, to be who I was. Reading her comment brought tears to my eyes because it is so insightful. I have to let go of wishing I could be who I was before and accept myself as I am now.
Fast forward to chavasana and reflecting, when out of nowhere my New Year’s resolution hit me like a ton of bricks. My New Year’s resolution for this year was self acceptance. I wanted to learn to accept the things about myself, and in my life, that I cannot control. The connection between my resolution and Donna’s comment is clear. In the last 5 weeks I’ve been struggling with trying to figure out why this would happen to me. To make me more caring, understanding or empathetic? Maybe all of these things, but I truly feel that going through this tragic and devastating experience of ectopic pregnancy will help me on my path to self acceptance. It gives me a small amount of comfort knowing that I haven’t gone through this in vain. I know that I won’t miraculously accept myself overnight, but at least it’s a start.
So, I’m going to get myself a canvas and paint set this weekend. So what if my painting turns out a little on the abstract side, it won’t be the end of the world.

No, we’re not in Kansas anymore, but someday that might just be okay.

Kansas?

I've never actually been to Kansas. But it's the first phrase that I thought of when I came out of the fog, about a week after surgery, and started writing my thoughts.

Can't I click my heels together three times and be transported back to 5 weeks and 1 day ago? I read a series of questions on Glow in the Woods yesterday. One of them really got me thinking... Imagine being able to step back in time and whisper into the ear of your past self the day after your baby died. What would you say?

I don't really know how to answer that question yet, but it's got my mind turning for now.

In less heavy matters (or maybe more heavy!)... I went to my new yoga class last night. I should have known this wasn't going to be my typical power yoga session when I walked in and the room was filled with middle aged overweight women. Ding Ding Ding, Collect your mat and proceed to the treadmill!!! But I didn't, I stayed thinking maybe with the recent surgery this would be more my pace now.... We breathed for 25 minutes. I'm all about breathing and connecting breath with movement, but there was more breathing and very little movement. I'm going to need to get my heartrate above 75 BPM in order to feel like I've actually done something.

I thought about cancelling out of the class, but I think the change of pace might not be a bad thing for me. It might force me, for an hour a week, to just let go. Plus, when I have my next surgery, I'll need something at a much slower pace again. So, inhaling and exhaling I go, all the way down the yellow brick road.

We're seeing our psychologist again today. We've seen her once, 3 weeks after the surgery. We both liked her. I'm looking forward to the session today. A lot has gone on in the last 2 weeks, from going back to work, my best friend having her baby, and my FIL moving back to town. They should each have their own post!

I also want to talk to the psychologist about my spending, which has drastically increased since the surgery. Some people over eat, some people are alcoholics, I've been shopping. I know my bank account does not have an endless balance, so it can't last forever, right? Funny thing is that when I buy something it only makes me happy for a few minutes. But at this rate I'll take what I can get. A little is better than none. I am interested to see what the psychologist has to say about it though.

I did have a ring custom made. I just got it a few days ago. It's aquamarine (March's birthstone). I figured it would be more reliable than planting a tree (hello, what if the tree died? or we move?). As if a piece of jewelry could replace a baby. Anyways, it came out great, I love it, and it makes my heart happy.

I feel like I need a hobby. I was thinking about taking up painting. But then I think, what if I suck at it? And I can't take the risk of failure. The price is too high right now. We'll see. Maybe something else.

I'm also having my blood drawn again today. The pregnancy hormone should be back down to zero by now, which is what they've told me the last 2 times I've had it done. It's okay though, anything to avoid the methotrexate injection.

Sometimes it all feels like a dream. Like it couldn't have really happened. I think that feeling has to do with being at work and around people that don't know about it all. I find myself continually replaying it in my head so that I don't forget. Like if I don't focus on it all the time I'll forget about it all together. Needless to say, I've been having a hard time focusing on work. I didn't sleep well last night. I haven't been sleeping well for quite a while. I'm exhausted and unmotivated today. I talked to my mom on the way in to work this morning. She called to see how I was doing. Before we hung up she said she wanted me to know that she hasn't forgotten. I started to cry. I'm starting to cry now thinking about it.

We get our own day!

I found out today Congress has given a day to Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness, October 15th.

I'm headed to yoga. I just started back up again yesterday. So far so good. I may post more later...

Playing catch up

Never in a million years would I have imagined the chain of events that have happened in my life in the last couple months. I'm sure some of you can identify.

Here is my story...

DH and I started seriously TTC in October 2008 - We began doing BBT's to try to track ovulation.
January 23, 2009 - Saw my Dr. Her advice was to begin taking Clomid. Took the perscription home, but needed more time to think about it.
January 26, 2009 - I began having break through bleeding, which actually is pretty normal for me. I didn't think much of it. until it lasted for weeks. It would get bad every few days, and then slow back down again. This should have been my first warning sign that something was wrong.

February 7-14, 2009 - DH and I go on a much needed cruise to the caribbean. It was so nice to get away. Still having heavy spotting on and off through this time.

February 18, 2009 - At work I had severe pain in my right side. Just to the right of my belly button. I thought I ate something that didn't agree with me. But it was a pain I'd never had before. It lasted about 30 minutes and went away.A couple of days later I had the pain again. It lasted for about 30 minutes again, then went away. This continued every couple of days for about a week. The bleeding still continuing.The next week the pain was increasing in intensity and in frequency. By this time I was having pain every other day that would last for approx. 4 hours at a time. Nothing would make it go away. It was excruciating. But I had no pain scale to compare it to. I've never broken a bone, stitches, or even a cavity. The bleeding still continuing.

February 27, 2009 - By this time I was having pain all day everyday. At this point I KNOW something is wrong. But I think it's intenstinal because the pain is so high in my abdomen. I thought for sure I had picked up a bacteria or something from my vacation.

March 2, 2009 - My grandmother passed away. She lives 90 minutes from my home. I knew there was no way I could travel that far away from my home for the week without knowing what was going on. But I'm not sure if I should call my regular dr. for intestinal problems, or my gyn for the bleeding.

March 3, 2009 - I decide to call my gyn, because I know that the bleeding is not normal by this point. I never should have let it go on this long. My gyn tells me to come in the next day at 11am.

March 4, 2009 11am - I go to my gyn appointment by myself. I'm thinking maybe she'll put me on an estrogen supplement to get the break through bleeding under control? Maybe the pain in my side is my appendix? I'm clueless. She takes down all my symptoms and does a pelvic exam. The pelvic exam has me in complete agony from pain. With my feet still in the stirrups her nurse taps on the door. My urine test came back positive for pregnancy. I immediately become hysterical because I know something is wrong. She tells me we'll do an ultrasound and figure out what's going on. I call my husband and he comes right over.He didn't make it in time for the ultrasound. I went in a hysterical mess. This isn't how I was supposed to find out I was pregnant. This isn't how my first ultrasound was supposed to be. This isn't how my first pregnancy was supposed to happen.My biggest regret is that I didn't look at the ultrasound. I was too hysterical. Now I wished I had. The ultrasound showed that the baby was 6cm, that the tube was on the verge of rupturing, and that there was a blood cyst next to the baby. I was between 7 and 8 weeks.
12:00pm - My husband arrives after the ultrasound and we go into my dr.'s partner's office. She said that my Dr. is at the hospital and I had to meet her there to have emergency surgery. I'm still hysterical. She explains everything to us, but it's like I'm in a haze and I have no idea what's going on. She says that I shouldn't even be walking around. And I'm signing waivers for pregnancy termination, tube removal (if necessary), ovary removal (if necessary), blood transfusions, etc. It was all so surreal. I couldn't even process it.

1:00pm- We arrive at the hospital, get brought to a private room, and prepped for surgery. My parent's arrived shortly after. I am still hysterical, DH is terrified. They give me the maximum amount of morphine that I can take, it doesn't even touch the physical or emotional pain. They give me antianxiety meds for the surgery. By that time, I'm only coherent enough to know things are bad. And I wonder if I'll die. And I wonder if I die, if I'll know that I'm dead. And what would it be like.
A few hours later I wake up in the recovery room and find out the surgery went as well as it could have. She did not have to take my tube or my ovary. She chose not do a blood transfusion because of the risk associated with it. I was run down, severely anemic, and exhausted.

My doctor explained that I had ovulated normally out of the left tube. When it was fertilized it couldn't implant in my uterus because of the endometriosis. She said that it became too heavy to impant and was pulled up into the right side where it implanted in my right tube. I have no idea how she could tell all of this from the surgery.She said there was so much blood in my pelvis that she couldn't do anything about the endometriosis in that surgery. I will have to have another surgery before TTC again to remove the endometriosis. That surgery is scheduled for June 11, 2009. I have so many worries and anxiety about TTC again. But I know that is a bridge we won't be able to cross until we get to it.