So one of my favorite bloggers (who just had a bebe!) posted a survey on her blog, and I thought it would a fun way to capture me and give me something to focus on instead of my effed up eggs. PS – today, so far, is going much better than yesterday.
10 favorite musical artists (this is hard, I wish it was songs):
- New Found Glory
- Train/Pat Monahan
- Mumford and Sons
- That chick from the Voice – Lindsey Pavao
- Taylor Swift
- Garth Brooks
- The Cure
- Kelly Clarkson
9 things in your purse:
- Eos lip balm
- Griot pens
- stylus pen
- iPod Touch
- envelope of coupons
- rouge eyeliner
- hair ties
8 places you want to visit:
- Austin, TX
- San Deigo, CA
- Toronto, Canada
- Berlin, Germany (again!)
- Washington DC (my own town tourist style)
7 movies you love:
- Brown Sugar
- Finding Nemo
- SLC Punk
- Home movies
6 favorite hobbies:
- Decorating (DIY style)
- Napping. That’s a hobby right?
5 favorite fruits/vegetables:
- Passion Fruit
- Corn on the Cob
- Sliced apples
4 favorite colors to wear:
3 things that stress you out:
- The feeling that time is passing too quickly
- My body
2 things you say too much:
- “I know right”
1 favorite dessert:
- Aunt C’s Cherry Cheesecake
I woke up this morning having a mini-temper tantrum. Maybe this is an indication that I am about to start my period (you know. Aunt Flow is comin’ to town). It’s a damn good thing I work from home because no one, NO ONE, wants to see me today all pouty and pitiful. Here was my internal conversation.
Pitiful J (PJ): I don’t want to DO this anymore.
Real J (RJ): Yes you do. You know you do.
PJ: I do not. I am tired of figuring this out. You know how ADHD I get when things get hard, I shut down. I am shutting down.
RJ: No you aren’t. Oh hey! No baby this month means you can pop your ADHD drugs again. Score. But seriously, you want this. A perfect little J. or S. Jr. to cuddle and snuggle and watch grow up to a cool kid. You told S. last night you want a little hipster baby. Remember the onsie with a fake tie?
PJ: God. What are you? A motivational poster? I am pouty. And tired. And confused. And frustrated!
RJ: Okay, you win. Today. Be pouty, feel sorry for yourself, pick your nail polish off, watching bad tv while working, sing along to Glee and drink lots of Diet Coke. But that’s it. Tomorrow you put on your effing big girl panties and figure it out. FIGURE. IT. OUT.
PJ: Fair enough.
When I started this blog, I remember I said I was trying to keep it fun? Well it’s not always fun. And that’s okay. I’ve done lots of things that weren’t fun, but they led to fun things. Like my Mama says, use it as guilt in a few years. She reminds me often I was 9 days late with a big head. But those 9 days and however many hours of big headed labor resulted in fun right? Right?
Tomorrow will be better. Todays sucks.
Everyone wants to know if the 2nd round of Clomid was successful …. but before I say no … it might be too soon to tell. Here’s the story:
I should have started my period yesterday, I did not. I was bullied by R. (the Sister in Law, also trying to get pregnant) to take a pregnancy test, that came out negative, but I am still probably (maybe?) too early to tell. So I guess we are still waiting. Why are the details so complicated?
So now that we are in our first ‘Two Week Wait’, I am finding every little thing might indicate a baby in the belly. Today I noticed my belly a little rounder and a strong desire to eat bowls and bowls of frozen yogurt from those trendy, hipster DIY places. This probably doesn’t indicate I am pregnant, it probably just means I am a being a fat girl. I don’t think it happens this fast.
Can I also talk about how annoying sites that tell you ‘how to survive the Two Week Wait’ are? Apparently, during these two weeks I should be indulging in spa treatments, learning a new hobby, spending romantic time with S. and being nice to myself. Where are the women who do this? Do they have a job? I am going to be so busy with work, chairing a church committee, taking care of the dog, and going about my business that I won’t have time to focus on spa treatments OR wondering if I am pregnant. Perhaps I am a little judgy about this because it’s our first opportunity to ‘wait’, but for now I am rolling my eyes.
As I write this I am feeling a little tired. I must be pregnant. Or it’s time for bed.
I have loved Tori Amos every since she wrote ‘Jackie’s Strength‘. Yes as a 29 year old I recognize now it is about Jackie Onassis, but as an angsty teen I was SURE it was about me. Anyway … I came across this quote from her and it hit home today as so many people are announcing their pregnancy and showing pictures of their newborns. I am happy for them, and appropriately sad for me. Today of course. Tomorrow may be different.
The anger lies in each of us; it just depends on how you deal with it. You have to dive into your own psyche, to find out who lives there. Most of the time, the monster that hides inside you, is the one you let loose on others. I’m not afraid of sadness. Yet even when you cry, until you can’t cry anymore, you get to the point where you decide, for example, that you want to play with a drummer. Sadness lets you wear stilettos, sadness lets you dance in the moonlight. She just has dark rims around her eyes.
I decided a few days ago, in my Clomid induced depression, I want fertility jewelry. After that depression lifted, I realized, I probably just want jewelry. Which strikes me as so silly since I wear my wedding rings and a pair of studs everyday (for someone who has 3 holes in each lobe, I never use all at once). I just don’t indulge in jewelry. Is there even such a thing as fertility jewelry?
Yes. Yes there is. And Etsy is the place to find them. Oddly enough, in my research, I have yet to find ‘proof’ that certain stones help in fertility. Obviously, I love the concept of Eastern Medicine. I’ve found information on reiki, acupuncture, yoga, meditation and herbs … but no stones. Tell that to the masses on Etsy who got the memo that rose quartz and moonstones are the key to babies. I assume it’s true, because if you are going to make up a fertility ‘stone’ it should be diamonds.
I would love to see S’s face when I ask for a diamond tennis bracelet to help me get knocked up. Women around the world would be buying birth control in secret while adding to their jewelry collection – “Not this month hun, but Jared’s is having a sale on diamond earrings!’ ….
Here are a few of my favorites:
Phew. I just got off the phone with another amazing nurse at my OB/GYN’s. I called because a) I never ovulated b) I got my period c) I have no idea what I am doing next.
Here’s the good news (What? Good news?!) – since I had my period, I don’t have to suffer through Prometrium. AND (yes, ther eis more), I got my period on my own. Dare I say my body is on the road to cooperating?
The bad news … I am on a higher dose of Clomid. Yes, I know what I am in for side effect wise, but because I know, I am not looking forward to it. But without the Prometrium, this is going to go much faster I think. 5 days of 100mg of Clomid, then peeing on a stick (and my hand).
Maybe this time.
Can I be real for a minute? I am going to write more on this later, but basically, women’s bodies are a bit on the gross side. Which leads me to my body with PCOS.
Ladies blessed with PCOS know the side effects – weigh gain, high testosterone, cysts, missing period … and facial hair. There I said it. Facial hair (PS – S. has no idea I have chin hairs. At least I hope not.). Thankfully birth control kept it to a minimum, but now that I off the pills, I am sporting a 5 o’clock shadow … and a noon shadow …. and a 9 o’clock in the effing morning shadow.
Before, a simple morning glance would result 2-3 plucks, but now I could spend at least 20 minute plucking and searching. Remember Tim Allen in the Santa Clause? When he was in denile of being Santa, he woke up, had a huge, bushy white beard, shaved, walked away from the mirror, walked back and the big bushy beard again … that’s how I feel! Well, not as bad, but seriously.
Sometimes I have a hard enough time getting out of bed, now I have a reason. I would be mortified if anyone saw me with a full beard.
I was originally writing a post about how impatient and uniformed I am about what the heck I am doing regarding drugs, calendars and when it’s time to panic. I decided it’s time to call my doctor and figure out what the eff is up.
Lucky for me, I spoke with Nurse Betty. I am not using real names in this blog (frankly, the protect the innocent bystanders in my hormonal rages), but Nurse Betty is really named Betty. If you imagine what a nurse named Betty looks and sounds like, that’s my Nurse Betty. So, please don’t Google a nurse named Betty in the DC Metro area and harass her. She is so grandmotherly and southern, she might be our unborn baby’s namesake by the time this crap is over.
So anyway … I talk to Nurse Betty, who is delightfully no bullshit, and she tells me to be patient. I explained I stopped Clomid on the 2nd and still haven’t ovulated, and we decided to wait another week for the smiley face (her words). If nothing happens, I need to an early pregnancy blood test, then we start this whole process over with a higher dose of Clomid. After 3 cycles of the Clomid, and no pregnancy, I will get to visit a Reproductive Specialist (dun, dun, dun.)
I also explained, I read What to Expect Before You are Expecting (more on that later), and it said to take the fertility test in the middle of the day because morning pee-pee could give a false negative. She, very nicely, informed me pee-pee is pee-pee. Good, I was about to go bat crap crazy if I missed my ovulation window.
Would it have killed the Backup Doctor to alert me to all these details?
Even if you’ve never seen Jersey Shore, which I have not (trust me, I have many, MANY other guilty pleasures), you know who Snooki is. I imagine the show features her like any other MTV reality star – drunk, hooking up and actin’ a fool. And now I give her my congratulations – pregnant and engaged!
I can’t help but feel a moment of fury. I am eating better, seldom drink, hit the sack before midnight, sleep with just my husband and have a relatively calm life. And I am not pregnant. Not even ovulating. When will it be my turn? I am sure many women dealing with infertility have this same feeling.