OK, that’s not really true. In fact, it’s a blatant example of the irrational thinking I was telling you guys about from the other night.
And aren’t I so glad I have a psych degree so I can self-diagnose my own lunacy!
But, it has been this thought that has been running through my head the past few days especially.
This scary thought that I am admittedly not too fond of.
I’m going to be completely candid with you guys for a second (as if I’m not always).
(Side note: Dad – if you need a dad disclaimer here you have lost your mind. Clearly this is not a dad safe post. Same goes for you grandma!)
OK, now back to the candid part:
I enjoy sex. I always have. Like – more than is normal for most women I think.
My friends have always joked that I have the sex drive of a 16 year old boy.
And I don’t think any of my past boyfriends would argue with them.
But, a lot has changed in the last few years. I will admit that I used to be a bit skanky. Granted, I have known girls who are way worse – but I definitely treated sex like it was for my own personal gratification and I didn’t spend too much time worrying about whether or not I cared about the guy I was with.
A few things incited a change in me over the years though:
1.) I was ready to settle down. That wild party girl side of me was getting old and I just didn’t have the desire to keep up with that life anymore.
2.) I experienced sex with love for the first time – and I don’t want to get all cheesy here, but I realized how much better it really was when you were in love.
3.) I returned to church and re-discovered my faith – forcing me to realize that the way I had been living may not really have been the best way to be.
Now, I want to be clear: I love the idea of waiting until marriage, and I get that it is what the bible wants of me. If we are being completely honest though – I’m not sure if I have that in me. I would like to say that I do, and that I am all born again virgin and sex isn’t going to happen again until I have a ring on my finger, but… I don’t know that 100% in my heart, so I can’t say it here.
All I can say is that I try hard every day to be a better person and a better version of myself, and most days I do pretty well.
The last time I had sex was last October. I was actually on a business trip in Las Vegas and I had a layover in Seattle, where the ex happened to be working. I wound up extending my layover by a day and spending some time with him there. We actually had an amazing visit and it was the first time we had felt like “us” again in a while.
A month later I had my second surgery, and things kind of fell apart for me. But that trip, was a good trip. It was actually a good last time too.
That means though, that it has been almost 9 months since anyone (besides Teeny and my gyno) has seen me naked. I have to admit that I haven’t gone that long… ever.
On the one hand, I’m proud. On the other hand though – I’m left wondering if I will ever have sex again.
The last few days it has dawned on me that I am trying to get pregnant.
Yes, I think I have only now started to really realize it!
I was hit by the notion that I likely wouldn’t be comfortable with the idea of sex for quite a while after my BFP. I’m not even sure what the “rules” are with IVF, but I know for me personally that I am going to be too afraid of doing anything to dislodge that little nugget(s). I would assume it will be months in before I'll even be willing to consider doing the naughty, and by that point – I will really be pregnant.
And let me just say: I don’t think I could be a whore-y pregnant lady.
So, that leaves me 9 more months down the line. Only then, my body will be all twisted and out of shape. I won’t even look like me anymore. Plus, I will have a baby (possibly babies) all by myself and I highly doubt dating is going to be a top priority of mine.
Maybe when they get in school and I meet someone at the PTA meetings.
I am never going to have sex again.
You see where this gets complicated though, don’t you? There is this part of me that has had to resist the urge to run around naked the last few days – just to make sure that everyone gets a nice look at the goods and can remember me as I am right now.
I am actually one of those rare girls who likes her body. Yes, I am absolutely curvy and sure, I wouldn’t hate to drop 10 pounds, but… I look good naked. And I know it.
Sometimes I just check myself out naked in the mirror and think “nice.”
I’m not going to apologize for that either. I spent plenty of years hating myself and my body. It actually feels good to embrace it now.
But I don’t think anyone is ever going to see it as is again.
And that is kind of sad.
Don’t get me wrong – I am more than ready to give my body over to a baby. I am welcoming of the saggy boobs and stretch marks. I am ready.
But we're being honest here, and honestly; this is a fear that has been running through my head.
That I am never going to feel like a woman like that again.
I kind of feel like I should have given this body a better send off.
Like I should have realized months ago that this was the end, and really thrown this version of me a good going away party.
At the very least I wish I had realized that last October was the last time I would have sex.
Not that I would have done anything differently (I can't really give that time together any negative marks), but… I would have at least tried to savor it a little more.
Obviously, I realize that I will have sex again someday.
Right now though, I’m just fighting the fear that it will never be the same.
That I will never be the same.
ADSPACE
June 30, 2010
The First Shots
Yes - I vlogged.
And there was some serious user error.
I'm actually kind of laughing, because a.) why do these videos both pause on me making the weirdest faces ever? It's a good thing I'm not vain! and b.) I kid you not - the first video is 10 minutes long and cuts off immediately before I actually stick myself.
Turns out my webcam stops taping at 10 minutes... who knew?
It turns out I'm as long winded when I'm talking as I am when I'm typing!
I'm still posting them though, because seriously - I will probably never vlog again, and what the heck am I going to do with these otherwise?
So, the first video is long and is basically just my mixing the meds and talking about the needles. I think it is probably pretty boring (unless you really love me and get a kick out of how nervous I am - although, there are a few boob shots - so there is that), but for those of you getting ready to do IVF; you might be interested. And for those of you who get nervous about needles, there is no money shot, so you shouldn't have anything to be squeamish about!
Quick disclaimer: I am in no way an expert and you should totally still go to your injection teaching appointments after watching this. Please don't take my word for anything! Listen to your doctor and follow their instructions and not mine.
The second one is just my wrap-up after realizing I had completely missed my injections. It's much shorter and probably a bit more for everyone!
And yes, I am completely scrubbed out in both. This is how I roll most nights after work! Plus, I really do have naturally curly hair that usually looks far less scraggly than this... not sure what's going on there, because I usually love my hair!
Again - it's a good thing I'm not vain. Of course, I'm vain enough to have to point out that I am cuter than this in person, so I'm not really sure what that says about me!
Hope you all have a great day!
Untitled from S.I.F. on Vimeo.
Untitled from S.I.F. on Vimeo.
And there was some serious user error.
I'm actually kind of laughing, because a.) why do these videos both pause on me making the weirdest faces ever? It's a good thing I'm not vain! and b.) I kid you not - the first video is 10 minutes long and cuts off immediately before I actually stick myself.
Turns out my webcam stops taping at 10 minutes... who knew?
It turns out I'm as long winded when I'm talking as I am when I'm typing!
I'm still posting them though, because seriously - I will probably never vlog again, and what the heck am I going to do with these otherwise?
So, the first video is long and is basically just my mixing the meds and talking about the needles. I think it is probably pretty boring (unless you really love me and get a kick out of how nervous I am - although, there are a few boob shots - so there is that), but for those of you getting ready to do IVF; you might be interested. And for those of you who get nervous about needles, there is no money shot, so you shouldn't have anything to be squeamish about!
Quick disclaimer: I am in no way an expert and you should totally still go to your injection teaching appointments after watching this. Please don't take my word for anything! Listen to your doctor and follow their instructions and not mine.
The second one is just my wrap-up after realizing I had completely missed my injections. It's much shorter and probably a bit more for everyone!
And yes, I am completely scrubbed out in both. This is how I roll most nights after work! Plus, I really do have naturally curly hair that usually looks far less scraggly than this... not sure what's going on there, because I usually love my hair!
Again - it's a good thing I'm not vain. Of course, I'm vain enough to have to point out that I am cuter than this in person, so I'm not really sure what that says about me!
Hope you all have a great day!
Untitled from S.I.F. on Vimeo.
Untitled from S.I.F. on Vimeo.
June 29, 2010
If it’s Man Made, It’s Fixable
I woke up this morning and was, of course, annoyed that I still hadn’t started my period.
I penned an e-mail to my coordinator asking her at what point we should give up on my body doing what it is supposed to do.
Clearly I had far too little faith.
It was as I was closing my laptop however (with wet hair from the shower and still wearing nothing but a robe) that there were some fireworks in my room.
And not the good kind of bedroom fireworks.
The socket next to my bed (the one that had nothing but a CO detector plugged into it) emitted a loud pop and a sudden spark – a spark that was large enough that I immediately thought it was a flame.
An almost flame that left black marks around the socket itself.
Initially, I panicked. I had no idea what had just happened or if it was normal. All I knew was that it looked like flames had just burst out of my wall.
From a socket that I admittedly wired myself when I bought this condo.
In fact, I redid all the sockets and lighting myself.
(yes, I am patting myself on the back - or at least I was before the socket blew)
My first thought was to call my dad. He made a few quick guesses as to what could have gone wrong, and then knowing me (and my stubborn streak that insists on fixing things myself) he pleaded with me to at least call the ex.
I don’t think he trusted me to make sure this was safe on my own.
So I called the ex, and he told me to call an electrician. I started playing worst case scenario with him: “if I just turned the breaker off and got in there myself, the house isn’t going to burn down, is it?”
His response?
“Well, if it burns down, it burns down.”
“Not helpful.” I told him. To which he replied that it was all part of his new outlook on life. That he was working on taking the punches as they come. He explained that his boss had told him to start being more diplomatic, and that’s what he was doing; just being more diplomatic.
He said he had even looked it up on the dictionary from his iPhone.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had kind of missed the mark on diplomacy; that telling me my house may just burn down was far from tactful.
His last words to me were to call an electrician.
Instead, I shut the breaker down and went in to do the work myself.
I told you I was stubborn.
When I got behind the socket, there were no indications of a fire; which made me feel infinitely better (although, I am going to have to touch up that paint job now.)
I assumed the socket itself had simply blown, and I pulled out my drill and wire cutters and went about replacing it.
Because I may just be so handy that I have extras lying around.
Who’s an independent woman now!
Once I had the work done I was quite proud of myself. I stood up and went to turn the breaker back on though, only to discover it wouldn’t switch back over.
At all.
I called my dad again, and his first words were “You did something wrong. You need to call an electrician.”
Then he reminded me that the original faulty socket had been installed by me in the first place, so maybe I wasn’t the best person to be fixing it.
Gee. Thanks.
I stood there for probably 15 minutes trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong with my breaker. I uninstalled and reinstalled the socket again, and still nothing.
I was at a loss.
As a last resort, I tried a co-worker who (you guessed it) told me to call an electrician.
The men in my life are useless.
So, I broke down and called the electrician company I had used when I first moved in. Thirty minutes later I had a man in his late thirties with tufts of hair escaping the back of his shirt looking at my breaker.
“Is broke” he said in a thick European accent. “Dead.”
I got a worried look on my face and questioned “What did I do to break it?”
“Not you.” He said. “Just old. Nothing you do.”
Take that dad. I am still a master electrician! Don’t be jealous. I'll redo your lighting next time I'm in AZ.
The dollar signs started to rack up in my head though. I was getting a little sick to my stomach imagining what a dead breaker might cost me.
“Is it fixable?” I hedged.
“Oh yes!” He proclaimed. “My English not so good, but I see movie once. In it they say ‘Anything that man made is fixable’. This man made. This fixable.”
My snarky side hit before I even thought about what I was saying (because yes - my absent period was still on my mind), and I blurted out “Oh really. What can you do about my uterus?”
The irony of course being that my uterus is not man made, and no one seems to be able to make it do what it is supposed to do. Apparently if it's not man made, the same rules do not apply. My uterus isn't fixable by any man.
But my breaker is.
Thankfully, Mr. Electrician's English was bad enough that I don’t think he really got what I was saying. He just smiled and nodded and said “I be right back with new breaker. Don’t go.”
“Sweet”, I thought. Not like I needed to go to work today anyway. I’m about to be off for 2 weeks straight, but really – this is no big deal.
Once again I said a silent thank you to my boss who is more than flexible with me.
And I waited.
When Mr. Electrician came back he was suddenly very talkative. I was slightly embarrassed because all of my meds and shots (the ones that don’t need to be kept cold) were still sitting front and center on my table - still all dressed up with nowhere to go. This is including the pregnancy tests that were sent to me as well. The ones I had to laugh at, because I’m pretty sure I could have gone to the store and picked up my own.
He didn’t seem to notice though, and he just kept right on talking. He told me about growing up in Europe, and how different it was from the United States. He described mixed meat plates that you can get for 5 Euros (and went off to list the meat he loved – lamb, pig, sheep’s, cow, chicken, shrimps – the list went on and on). He talked about the better wages here, but the harder work weeks. He told me that he was single and lived with his parents, and that he liked to take 6 weeks vacation every year to visit family.
At one point he stopped talking mid sentence and said “Don’t worry – I only charge you one hour.”
I had to laugh. The whole time I was wishing he would just hurry up so I could get to work, but he was being very sweet. He even stopped to make a remark about the work I had already done before he got there. He said “where you learn electric?" I told him that I had taught myself the simple stuff, but that I only knew the basics. To that he said “You very independent, no?” I could only laugh and agree.
As he was leaving Mr. Electrician said “If you want, I give you my number and you call me next time. I come help you with electric no charge if you have no one else.”
It turns out I have a way with electricians. This is the second guy from the same company who has made that offer to me.
And no, I would never take either of them up on it.
While it is an incredibly sweet offer, I would feel like such a jerk accepting when I knew I had no romantic interest.
I really couldn't figure out if he was interested in me or if he was just a nice guy who was looking for friends, but it probably wasn't worth the risk.
And unfortunately, as sweet as Mr. Electrician was: there was no romantic interest on my part.
As much as I do love a good hairy back on a man who must at least be in his late 30's and living with his parents.
Too bad though; I could have used some help installing a bathroom fan.
After he left, I packed up my stuff for work and took one last pee trip; only to discover that I had actually started my period.
God has a sense of humor. Either that, or my electrician has magical powers.
I get to start my hormone shots tonight, and I am sickly excited.
So excited, that I may just vlog it.
A little injection teaching 101
I’ll save the electrician teaching for another day.
I penned an e-mail to my coordinator asking her at what point we should give up on my body doing what it is supposed to do.
Clearly I had far too little faith.
It was as I was closing my laptop however (with wet hair from the shower and still wearing nothing but a robe) that there were some fireworks in my room.
And not the good kind of bedroom fireworks.
The socket next to my bed (the one that had nothing but a CO detector plugged into it) emitted a loud pop and a sudden spark – a spark that was large enough that I immediately thought it was a flame.
An almost flame that left black marks around the socket itself.
Initially, I panicked. I had no idea what had just happened or if it was normal. All I knew was that it looked like flames had just burst out of my wall.
From a socket that I admittedly wired myself when I bought this condo.
In fact, I redid all the sockets and lighting myself.
(yes, I am patting myself on the back - or at least I was before the socket blew)
My first thought was to call my dad. He made a few quick guesses as to what could have gone wrong, and then knowing me (and my stubborn streak that insists on fixing things myself) he pleaded with me to at least call the ex.
I don’t think he trusted me to make sure this was safe on my own.
So I called the ex, and he told me to call an electrician. I started playing worst case scenario with him: “if I just turned the breaker off and got in there myself, the house isn’t going to burn down, is it?”
His response?
“Well, if it burns down, it burns down.”
“Not helpful.” I told him. To which he replied that it was all part of his new outlook on life. That he was working on taking the punches as they come. He explained that his boss had told him to start being more diplomatic, and that’s what he was doing; just being more diplomatic.
He said he had even looked it up on the dictionary from his iPhone.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had kind of missed the mark on diplomacy; that telling me my house may just burn down was far from tactful.
His last words to me were to call an electrician.
Instead, I shut the breaker down and went in to do the work myself.
I told you I was stubborn.
When I got behind the socket, there were no indications of a fire; which made me feel infinitely better (although, I am going to have to touch up that paint job now.)
I assumed the socket itself had simply blown, and I pulled out my drill and wire cutters and went about replacing it.
Because I may just be so handy that I have extras lying around.
Who’s an independent woman now!
Once I had the work done I was quite proud of myself. I stood up and went to turn the breaker back on though, only to discover it wouldn’t switch back over.
At all.
I called my dad again, and his first words were “You did something wrong. You need to call an electrician.”
Then he reminded me that the original faulty socket had been installed by me in the first place, so maybe I wasn’t the best person to be fixing it.
Gee. Thanks.
I stood there for probably 15 minutes trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong with my breaker. I uninstalled and reinstalled the socket again, and still nothing.
I was at a loss.
As a last resort, I tried a co-worker who (you guessed it) told me to call an electrician.
The men in my life are useless.
So, I broke down and called the electrician company I had used when I first moved in. Thirty minutes later I had a man in his late thirties with tufts of hair escaping the back of his shirt looking at my breaker.
“Is broke” he said in a thick European accent. “Dead.”
I got a worried look on my face and questioned “What did I do to break it?”
“Not you.” He said. “Just old. Nothing you do.”
Take that dad. I am still a master electrician! Don’t be jealous. I'll redo your lighting next time I'm in AZ.
The dollar signs started to rack up in my head though. I was getting a little sick to my stomach imagining what a dead breaker might cost me.
“Is it fixable?” I hedged.
“Oh yes!” He proclaimed. “My English not so good, but I see movie once. In it they say ‘Anything that man made is fixable’. This man made. This fixable.”
My snarky side hit before I even thought about what I was saying (because yes - my absent period was still on my mind), and I blurted out “Oh really. What can you do about my uterus?”
The irony of course being that my uterus is not man made, and no one seems to be able to make it do what it is supposed to do. Apparently if it's not man made, the same rules do not apply. My uterus isn't fixable by any man.
But my breaker is.
Thankfully, Mr. Electrician's English was bad enough that I don’t think he really got what I was saying. He just smiled and nodded and said “I be right back with new breaker. Don’t go.”
“Sweet”, I thought. Not like I needed to go to work today anyway. I’m about to be off for 2 weeks straight, but really – this is no big deal.
Once again I said a silent thank you to my boss who is more than flexible with me.
And I waited.
When Mr. Electrician came back he was suddenly very talkative. I was slightly embarrassed because all of my meds and shots (the ones that don’t need to be kept cold) were still sitting front and center on my table - still all dressed up with nowhere to go. This is including the pregnancy tests that were sent to me as well. The ones I had to laugh at, because I’m pretty sure I could have gone to the store and picked up my own.
He didn’t seem to notice though, and he just kept right on talking. He told me about growing up in Europe, and how different it was from the United States. He described mixed meat plates that you can get for 5 Euros (and went off to list the meat he loved – lamb, pig, sheep’s, cow, chicken, shrimps – the list went on and on). He talked about the better wages here, but the harder work weeks. He told me that he was single and lived with his parents, and that he liked to take 6 weeks vacation every year to visit family.
At one point he stopped talking mid sentence and said “Don’t worry – I only charge you one hour.”
I had to laugh. The whole time I was wishing he would just hurry up so I could get to work, but he was being very sweet. He even stopped to make a remark about the work I had already done before he got there. He said “where you learn electric?" I told him that I had taught myself the simple stuff, but that I only knew the basics. To that he said “You very independent, no?” I could only laugh and agree.
As he was leaving Mr. Electrician said “If you want, I give you my number and you call me next time. I come help you with electric no charge if you have no one else.”
It turns out I have a way with electricians. This is the second guy from the same company who has made that offer to me.
And no, I would never take either of them up on it.
While it is an incredibly sweet offer, I would feel like such a jerk accepting when I knew I had no romantic interest.
I really couldn't figure out if he was interested in me or if he was just a nice guy who was looking for friends, but it probably wasn't worth the risk.
And unfortunately, as sweet as Mr. Electrician was: there was no romantic interest on my part.
As much as I do love a good hairy back on a man who must at least be in his late 30's and living with his parents.
Too bad though; I could have used some help installing a bathroom fan.
After he left, I packed up my stuff for work and took one last pee trip; only to discover that I had actually started my period.
God has a sense of humor. Either that, or my electrician has magical powers.
I get to start my hormone shots tonight, and I am sickly excited.
So excited, that I may just vlog it.
A little injection teaching 101
I’ll save the electrician teaching for another day.
It Works!
My uterus, that is.
That's right! I just started my period!
I was at home with the electrician (more on that later - there may have been a minor explosion in my house this morning - good times), and when he left I went to the bathroom before heading back to work and I about started to cry.
Seriously, I don't think I was so surprised with my very first period!
The best part is, so far, I am not doubled over in pain. I'm popping some 800mg ibuprofen now, but hopefully I will be fine and endo pain won't knock me down today!
OK, just a quick post to say that my body just did what it was supposed to and everything is back on! I will start my hormone shots tonight! So everything will only be one day behind. It may mean an extra appointment in Colorado (because I will need the ultrasound on Saturday now, but I'll still have to have the checkup on Friday), but that won't be the end of the world.
And it just so happens to be day 5 after my last active pill - look who knows her body after all!
(and period watch 2010 is officially over - for all those of you who are able to recognize how weird it is that I keep talking about my period!)
That's right! I just started my period!
I was at home with the electrician (more on that later - there may have been a minor explosion in my house this morning - good times), and when he left I went to the bathroom before heading back to work and I about started to cry.
Seriously, I don't think I was so surprised with my very first period!
The best part is, so far, I am not doubled over in pain. I'm popping some 800mg ibuprofen now, but hopefully I will be fine and endo pain won't knock me down today!
OK, just a quick post to say that my body just did what it was supposed to and everything is back on! I will start my hormone shots tonight! So everything will only be one day behind. It may mean an extra appointment in Colorado (because I will need the ultrasound on Saturday now, but I'll still have to have the checkup on Friday), but that won't be the end of the world.
And it just so happens to be day 5 after my last active pill - look who knows her body after all!
(and period watch 2010 is officially over - for all those of you who are able to recognize how weird it is that I keep talking about my period!)
June 28, 2010
Déjà Vu
I swear I’ve told this story before. In fact, I am pretty sure I was here not too long ago.
My entire cycle is on hold, waiting for (get this): my period.
That is right ladies and gentleman; we are once again on period watch 2010.
Because my uterus just refuses to cooperate, I will not be starting my hormones today.
You would think the fact that it has been a year since I have bled would have had these flood gates opening wide, but not so much.
Instead, we wait.
And those lovely shots I was meant to begin tonight, sit lonely on my table.
All dressed up with nowhere to go.
I knew this part wasn’t going to be easy. I just had a feeling.
I mean, of course I recognized that the period itself would be unpleasant (still not looking forward to that pain), but I also knew dear old Aunt Flow was going to be late in arriving. When I spoke to my coordinator on Friday and she told me she wanted me to take my last pill that night and that she wanted my period to start on Monday, I told her there was just no way.
I explained that back in the day when I was a normal girl who took the pill for normal reasons (it seems so long ago), it always took 5 days after my last active pill for me to start – like clockwork.
Now that I am no longer a normal girl and my pill taking purpose was to continue to suppress a long absent menses, I knew that giving it the weekend wasn’t going to cut it.
After I explained my past, my coordinator told me to go ahead and skip that night, so my last active pill would have been Thursday.
Still, I didn’t have high hopes.
And now here I am, unfortunately right.
I got so many e-mails and text messages today; wishing me luck on my first day of shots. I sullenly had to respond to each and every one that I wouldn't be starting today - that everything was on hold.
Because of my period.
Or lack thereof.
We can only hope that the crimson tide will start on its own within the next few days. Theoretically, stopping the pill should be the only thing my body needs to induce it.
Theoretically.
Until then, my cycle is on hold. And everything will be pushed behind by however many days it takes for me to start.
Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, except for the fact that I already have my time off work arranged as well as my plane tickets and hotel.
Please just let me bleed.
My entire cycle is on hold, waiting for (get this): my period.
That is right ladies and gentleman; we are once again on period watch 2010.
Because my uterus just refuses to cooperate, I will not be starting my hormones today.
You would think the fact that it has been a year since I have bled would have had these flood gates opening wide, but not so much.
Instead, we wait.
And those lovely shots I was meant to begin tonight, sit lonely on my table.
I knew this part wasn’t going to be easy. I just had a feeling.
I mean, of course I recognized that the period itself would be unpleasant (still not looking forward to that pain), but I also knew dear old Aunt Flow was going to be late in arriving. When I spoke to my coordinator on Friday and she told me she wanted me to take my last pill that night and that she wanted my period to start on Monday, I told her there was just no way.
I explained that back in the day when I was a normal girl who took the pill for normal reasons (it seems so long ago), it always took 5 days after my last active pill for me to start – like clockwork.
Now that I am no longer a normal girl and my pill taking purpose was to continue to suppress a long absent menses, I knew that giving it the weekend wasn’t going to cut it.
After I explained my past, my coordinator told me to go ahead and skip that night, so my last active pill would have been Thursday.
Still, I didn’t have high hopes.
And now here I am, unfortunately right.
I got so many e-mails and text messages today; wishing me luck on my first day of shots. I sullenly had to respond to each and every one that I wouldn't be starting today - that everything was on hold.
Because of my period.
Or lack thereof.
We can only hope that the crimson tide will start on its own within the next few days. Theoretically, stopping the pill should be the only thing my body needs to induce it.
Theoretically.
Until then, my cycle is on hold. And everything will be pushed behind by however many days it takes for me to start.
Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, except for the fact that I already have my time off work arranged as well as my plane tickets and hotel.
Please just let me bleed.
June 27, 2010
Nothing Short of Disappointed
I was so excited. I wanted that massage so bad. I couldn’t wait to go back to my favorite spa.
And now I am completely let down.
Seriously - probably the worst spa experience of my life.
And of course, I didn’t make a single complaint.
This spa used to be one of my favorite spots in town. Up on the 16th floor, overlooking downtown and the ocean; swanky.
The kind of place you go when you want to feel pampered.
I used to go quite frequently for massages and other treatments. On my 26th birthday I actually went for an entire day of pampering. A wrap, a massage, a pedicure, a wax, hair, soaking in the tub… everything. It was heaven.
Since deciding I was on this baby path in January though, I haven’t splurged once. I’ve told myself it was a wasted expense and I have given up my beloved massages.
Until today. Today I told myself I deserved a little relaxation and pampering before this journey began.
And now I am let down.
The masseuse was sweet, but he managed to focus very little on my back where my problems actually are.
He had his greasy hands all over my face (with very little pressure, so I couldn’t quite figure out the point beyond getting me to break out), my legs and my arms… but very little actual work on my back; which is where I had asked him to specifically focus.
When he handed me his card afterwards I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was one of the most anti-climactic massages I had ever had and I would specifically request not to have him if I ever came back.
It wasn’t even necessarily that it was bad. It just didn’t get all that tension out like I needed it to. I could have gotten the same relief had just about anyone ran their hands all over me for 80 minutes.
That’s what it was – a lot of rubbing with very little massaging.
And for the record: I did tell him that I like a lot of pressure. I even explained my back issues and how I like people to really get in there. It just didn't really happen.
On top of that, I scheduled a pedicure as well thinking I could get my toes looking fab for next Saturdays Denver wedding.
Let’s just say I could have done a better paint job myself.
And I am horrid at painting my nails.
In the nail techs defense, she told me she didn't have time for a french; which is what I wanted. I just don't like color on my toes, so if I ever get them done it is only ever to get french tips. When she told me that, I asked if I could just cancel the appointment and I would get it done elsewhere. I explained that the only reason I had even scheduled a pedicure was because I wanted a french paint job and if she couldn't do it that was fine, but I didn't want anything else. I think that was fair, and I was very nice about it. I just didn't want to pay for something other than what I wanted. Suddenly though, she thought she could make the time. Of course, I think her time crunch caused her to speed up a little too much because the end result was shoddy at best.
I wish she had just let me cancel.
So I paid for a very overpriced pedicure, and walked away looking like a 6 year old had painted my toes.
But again – I didn’t say a word.
Why is it that I am so awful at complaining? Why am I so primed to smile and nod and let people think I am pleased with their service when I very really and truly am not.
What causes that need to please on my part as I am spending far too much money on treatments that just didn’t cut it?
Why am I so afraid of getting people in trouble or hurting their feelings, so instead I pay when I am far from satisfied?
Probably because I am a crazy hormonal infertile woman.
And now I am a disappointed hormonal infertile woman. But I will get over it.
Maybe not enough to ever want to go back to my favorite spa again, but it’s not like I really need to be spending that money anyways.
I hear that being a single mother doesn’t leave a whole lot of time or money for spa days.
And now I am completely let down.
Seriously - probably the worst spa experience of my life.
And of course, I didn’t make a single complaint.
This spa used to be one of my favorite spots in town. Up on the 16th floor, overlooking downtown and the ocean; swanky.
The kind of place you go when you want to feel pampered.
I used to go quite frequently for massages and other treatments. On my 26th birthday I actually went for an entire day of pampering. A wrap, a massage, a pedicure, a wax, hair, soaking in the tub… everything. It was heaven.
Since deciding I was on this baby path in January though, I haven’t splurged once. I’ve told myself it was a wasted expense and I have given up my beloved massages.
Until today. Today I told myself I deserved a little relaxation and pampering before this journey began.
And now I am let down.
The masseuse was sweet, but he managed to focus very little on my back where my problems actually are.
He had his greasy hands all over my face (with very little pressure, so I couldn’t quite figure out the point beyond getting me to break out), my legs and my arms… but very little actual work on my back; which is where I had asked him to specifically focus.
When he handed me his card afterwards I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was one of the most anti-climactic massages I had ever had and I would specifically request not to have him if I ever came back.
It wasn’t even necessarily that it was bad. It just didn’t get all that tension out like I needed it to. I could have gotten the same relief had just about anyone ran their hands all over me for 80 minutes.
That’s what it was – a lot of rubbing with very little massaging.
And for the record: I did tell him that I like a lot of pressure. I even explained my back issues and how I like people to really get in there. It just didn't really happen.
On top of that, I scheduled a pedicure as well thinking I could get my toes looking fab for next Saturdays Denver wedding.
Let’s just say I could have done a better paint job myself.
And I am horrid at painting my nails.
In the nail techs defense, she told me she didn't have time for a french; which is what I wanted. I just don't like color on my toes, so if I ever get them done it is only ever to get french tips. When she told me that, I asked if I could just cancel the appointment and I would get it done elsewhere. I explained that the only reason I had even scheduled a pedicure was because I wanted a french paint job and if she couldn't do it that was fine, but I didn't want anything else. I think that was fair, and I was very nice about it. I just didn't want to pay for something other than what I wanted. Suddenly though, she thought she could make the time. Of course, I think her time crunch caused her to speed up a little too much because the end result was shoddy at best.
I wish she had just let me cancel.
So I paid for a very overpriced pedicure, and walked away looking like a 6 year old had painted my toes.
But again – I didn’t say a word.
Why is it that I am so awful at complaining? Why am I so primed to smile and nod and let people think I am pleased with their service when I very really and truly am not.
What causes that need to please on my part as I am spending far too much money on treatments that just didn’t cut it?
Why am I so afraid of getting people in trouble or hurting their feelings, so instead I pay when I am far from satisfied?
Probably because I am a crazy hormonal infertile woman.
And now I am a disappointed hormonal infertile woman. But I will get over it.
Maybe not enough to ever want to go back to my favorite spa again, but it’s not like I really need to be spending that money anyways.
I hear that being a single mother doesn’t leave a whole lot of time or money for spa days.
Regional Favorites Swap
I am so excited to announce that I am heading off to the spa for a much needed massage! I can’t wait!
I’ll have a regular post when I get back, but I wanted to let you all know about something kind of cool going on at the community now while I had a chance.
We are doing a regional favorites swap; which is the brainchild of the lovely, talented, and beautiful Holly from Life In HD.
Basically, the way it is going to work is you will be paired up with another blogger (although, non-bloggers are of course welcome to participate! You don’t need a blog to make this fun happen!) and you will then each buy $10-$20 worth of your favorite regional goodies to send to each other. So far we have participants from all around the world, so it is your opportunity to get something fun from someplace other than your home town.
And who doesn’t love getting packages in the mail!!
So if you are interested in participating, you have until next Friday (the 2nd) to sign up here.
I’ve just got to say that I love stuff like this and I am already itching to pick out a few of my favorites from Alaska!
So for more details, check out this thread – and I hope a few of you decide to join up!
The more, the merrier in this regional swap!
I’ll have a regular post when I get back, but I wanted to let you all know about something kind of cool going on at the community now while I had a chance.
We are doing a regional favorites swap; which is the brainchild of the lovely, talented, and beautiful Holly from Life In HD.
Basically, the way it is going to work is you will be paired up with another blogger (although, non-bloggers are of course welcome to participate! You don’t need a blog to make this fun happen!) and you will then each buy $10-$20 worth of your favorite regional goodies to send to each other. So far we have participants from all around the world, so it is your opportunity to get something fun from someplace other than your home town.
And who doesn’t love getting packages in the mail!!
So if you are interested in participating, you have until next Friday (the 2nd) to sign up here.
I’ve just got to say that I love stuff like this and I am already itching to pick out a few of my favorites from Alaska!
So for more details, check out this thread – and I hope a few of you decide to join up!
The more, the merrier in this regional swap!
June 26, 2010
There May Have Been a Breakdown
I am strong. I am capable. I am ready.
I am also human, and sometimes those pesky emotions just sneak up on me out of nowhere.
Last night, I admittedly had a bit of a mini-breakdown. It’s almost humorous now, but when I woke up next to a pile of Kleenexes and with a raging headache – I didn’t find it so amusing.
I am not a girl who cries herself to sleep. I am not a girl who laments her life. I am not a girl who feels sorry for herself.
But last night, I was all those girls.
I don’t even really know what happened. I’ve had a bottle of wine sitting on my kitchen counter for the last 6 months. I’m not much for drinking by myself anymore (although, there was a time in my life when I was – not gonna lie!) and I kept thinking I was saving it for a special occasion since it was a nice bottle. Well, last night it dawned on me that starting Monday there will hopefully be no occasions to enjoy a glass of wine for at least a year. I decided to pop open my lovely bottle of wine and treat myself this one last time.
I only had one glass. Just one.
I was watching America’s Got Talent (yes, I have traded in the wild and crazy Friday nights of my past for nights with my DVR!) and there were these two sisters who had cystic fibrosis. I can’t even tell you when I started crying, but it was no more than the first 20 seconds of them introducing themselves. I don’t know why they struck such a cord with me, but they certainly had the tears flowing quickly.
And then it was like the flood gates were opened. I am here to tell you that I am not typically an emotional girl. In fact, I tend to shut down rather than allow my emotions to show. I know that isn’t healthy, but I am just not a girl who curls up into a ball and cries.
Typically.
But boy oh boy did I cry last night. Once it started, I couldn’t stop. It was like all the emotions of this adventure hit at once, and I just lost it. I felt very lonely (very alone), and kept telling myself that I was having to choose between being a mother and being in love – that I would never have both. I knew that being a mother was what I would choose every time, but I felt like I was grieving the possibility of ever falling in love and getting married.
Obviously I know this was illogical thinking. Single mothers fall in love and get married all the time. It is not one or the other, and I am not giving up on love.
But last night? Last night, for whatever reason, I felt like I would always be alone. Like once this baby(ies) came, I would never want to or be able to date again. Like I would never trust anyone enough with the hearts of my children, so therefore I would never have a chance to really find someone for myself.
It was pathetic really. A complete breakdown.
But then it just got worse. I started thinking about what would happen if this didn’t work, and I really went over the deep end. I couldn’t breathe. I was just sobbing too hard. I felt like this bomb hit me as I realized that if this doesn’t work, I don’t know if I will be OK. I am actually very fearful right now about what my reaction will be if there is no BFP. If my only shot doesn’t work.
Thinking about it turned me into a complete wreck.
I finally managed to pick up the phone and call two of my oldest and dearest friends. They both talked me down and reminded me how not alone I am; how incredible my support system actually is; how much love I really do have in my life. They both got me breathing again, and focusing on reality versus this dark twisted version of the truth I had spun myself into.
And B-Face (yes, I do actually call her that, and have for years) even did me one better; she told me she is trying to get to Seattle next week so she can be there for me.
This girl is a total transient. I very rarely ever even call her, because I never know from one week to the next where she is or what she is doing. I wait for her to call me and give updates on her adventures, and I am always amazed by what she is up to. We aren’t even talking traveling around the country; this girl is constantly traveling around the world.
There was a time I was actually envious of her lifestyle, but in the last year especially I have started to crave settled; I have learned to love owning a home and having roots.
Still – the adventures of B-Face always make me smile.
Well, she applied for a temporary job working on a yacht in Seattle, and if she gets it she will be there the entire time I am.
I can’t even begin to tell you how much this news calmed me down. I don’t think I realized until that moment how lonely it felt to be going there by myself. How much it left me wishing I would have someone there to hold my hand through this.
And if that someone can’t be the man of my dreams, B-Face is the next best thing.
Plus, she is also a licensed massage therapist, and she made me all kinds of promises of the work she will do to keep me calm, cool, and collected.
And we all know how I feel about massages!
Today I woke up and I poured out the rest of that special bottle of wine. It was a sad thing to do (since it really is one of my favorite bottles) but I see no good coming out of finishing it. I think it is pretty clear that right now I need to keep my head from getting too cloudy, because just that one glass had me thinking all kinds of irrational.
And there are too many emotions swimming around in my heart right now to allow the irrational in.
I spoke to Mrs. King this morning, and when I told her that what had triggered it all was an act on America's Got Talent, her first words were "It was the cystic fibrosis girls, wasn't it!" That made me feel a little better. At least I'm not the only person those incredible girls brought to emotional heights.
There may have been a breakdown.
But today I’m back in action and ready to take on what comes next.
I think maybe I just needed a good cry now, because there won’t be room for it later.
No more tears from here on out.
Just shots, retrievals, implantations, and a big fat positive.
I am also human, and sometimes those pesky emotions just sneak up on me out of nowhere.
Last night, I admittedly had a bit of a mini-breakdown. It’s almost humorous now, but when I woke up next to a pile of Kleenexes and with a raging headache – I didn’t find it so amusing.
I am not a girl who cries herself to sleep. I am not a girl who laments her life. I am not a girl who feels sorry for herself.
But last night, I was all those girls.
I don’t even really know what happened. I’ve had a bottle of wine sitting on my kitchen counter for the last 6 months. I’m not much for drinking by myself anymore (although, there was a time in my life when I was – not gonna lie!) and I kept thinking I was saving it for a special occasion since it was a nice bottle. Well, last night it dawned on me that starting Monday there will hopefully be no occasions to enjoy a glass of wine for at least a year. I decided to pop open my lovely bottle of wine and treat myself this one last time.
I only had one glass. Just one.
I was watching America’s Got Talent (yes, I have traded in the wild and crazy Friday nights of my past for nights with my DVR!) and there were these two sisters who had cystic fibrosis. I can’t even tell you when I started crying, but it was no more than the first 20 seconds of them introducing themselves. I don’t know why they struck such a cord with me, but they certainly had the tears flowing quickly.
And then it was like the flood gates were opened. I am here to tell you that I am not typically an emotional girl. In fact, I tend to shut down rather than allow my emotions to show. I know that isn’t healthy, but I am just not a girl who curls up into a ball and cries.
Typically.
But boy oh boy did I cry last night. Once it started, I couldn’t stop. It was like all the emotions of this adventure hit at once, and I just lost it. I felt very lonely (very alone), and kept telling myself that I was having to choose between being a mother and being in love – that I would never have both. I knew that being a mother was what I would choose every time, but I felt like I was grieving the possibility of ever falling in love and getting married.
Obviously I know this was illogical thinking. Single mothers fall in love and get married all the time. It is not one or the other, and I am not giving up on love.
But last night? Last night, for whatever reason, I felt like I would always be alone. Like once this baby(ies) came, I would never want to or be able to date again. Like I would never trust anyone enough with the hearts of my children, so therefore I would never have a chance to really find someone for myself.
It was pathetic really. A complete breakdown.
But then it just got worse. I started thinking about what would happen if this didn’t work, and I really went over the deep end. I couldn’t breathe. I was just sobbing too hard. I felt like this bomb hit me as I realized that if this doesn’t work, I don’t know if I will be OK. I am actually very fearful right now about what my reaction will be if there is no BFP. If my only shot doesn’t work.
Thinking about it turned me into a complete wreck.
I finally managed to pick up the phone and call two of my oldest and dearest friends. They both talked me down and reminded me how not alone I am; how incredible my support system actually is; how much love I really do have in my life. They both got me breathing again, and focusing on reality versus this dark twisted version of the truth I had spun myself into.
And B-Face (yes, I do actually call her that, and have for years) even did me one better; she told me she is trying to get to Seattle next week so she can be there for me.
This girl is a total transient. I very rarely ever even call her, because I never know from one week to the next where she is or what she is doing. I wait for her to call me and give updates on her adventures, and I am always amazed by what she is up to. We aren’t even talking traveling around the country; this girl is constantly traveling around the world.
There was a time I was actually envious of her lifestyle, but in the last year especially I have started to crave settled; I have learned to love owning a home and having roots.
Still – the adventures of B-Face always make me smile.
Well, she applied for a temporary job working on a yacht in Seattle, and if she gets it she will be there the entire time I am.
I can’t even begin to tell you how much this news calmed me down. I don’t think I realized until that moment how lonely it felt to be going there by myself. How much it left me wishing I would have someone there to hold my hand through this.
And if that someone can’t be the man of my dreams, B-Face is the next best thing.
Plus, she is also a licensed massage therapist, and she made me all kinds of promises of the work she will do to keep me calm, cool, and collected.
And we all know how I feel about massages!
Today I woke up and I poured out the rest of that special bottle of wine. It was a sad thing to do (since it really is one of my favorite bottles) but I see no good coming out of finishing it. I think it is pretty clear that right now I need to keep my head from getting too cloudy, because just that one glass had me thinking all kinds of irrational.
And there are too many emotions swimming around in my heart right now to allow the irrational in.
I spoke to Mrs. King this morning, and when I told her that what had triggered it all was an act on America's Got Talent, her first words were "It was the cystic fibrosis girls, wasn't it!" That made me feel a little better. At least I'm not the only person those incredible girls brought to emotional heights.
There may have been a breakdown.
But today I’m back in action and ready to take on what comes next.
I think maybe I just needed a good cry now, because there won’t be room for it later.
No more tears from here on out.
Just shots, retrievals, implantations, and a big fat positive.
June 25, 2010
You Just Don’t Do That To An Infertile Woman!
I had my suppression check today.
You know, that appointment that basically could have been the end of my cycle. The checkup I needed to make sure I was good to go with starting my injections on Monday. The one last look that could feasibly have made me pretty sad had there been any cysts or anything else that would put this all on hold.
Needless to say, I was a little nervous going in; despite my newfound confidence that this is all going to work out.
As I mentioned, the doctor in my office who had previously been handling my cycle has decided to retire. On top of that, my regular doctor was out of the office today. So, this make or break appointment that everything was riding on was going to lie in the hands of a doctor I had never met before.
No big deal though, right? It was only an ultrasound. You can’t screw up an ultrasound.
Can you?
The doctor and her nurse were both incredibly sweet and they did put me right at ease.
Although, I’m starting to think I’m just “at home” on an exam table with my feet in the air.
So there I was, getting chatted up by this new doctor as she inserted the probe for my vagisound. Almost immediately however, she stopped and told me that my bladder was too full and she needed me to empty it. I had literally just gone, but apparently I drink too much water.
Without even thinking I hopped off the table to go to the bathroom (which is right there in the room through another door.) The fact that I was naked from the waist down never really even occurred to me. Just as I was flashing the good new Dr. my butt though, I could hear her choke out “Umm…. You can take this with you” as she waved the paper blanket at me.
I guess shoving foreign objects up my vagina is one thing, but seeing me walk around naked is an entire other level of intimacy. My bad. I told you guys I’ve gotten too comfortable in these places.
So then I wrapped the paper blanket around me out of shame; embarrassed more that I hadn’t thought to protect my own modesty before she did. I waddled off to the bathroom and quietly chastised myself as I attempted to push the urine out. Then I waddled back and hopped on the table again; this time careful not to expose myself in any way.
Only to have Mrs. New Doctor move the paper blanket up to my knees and look while she stuck the probe back in.
I’m going to need a gyno etiquette book so I can understand these intricate rules.
So then the real exam began, and let me just tell you; it wasn’t comfortable.
Mrs. New Doctor had a hard time finding both of my ovaries, which of course did nothing to set my nerves at ease. There is nothing quite like realizing that your ovaries have become so diminished in size that they are actually difficult for even a trained professional to locate.
It was after she found them though that I really started to sweat. Her face kept contorting and I could tell she was distressed. There were a lot of hems and haws and just a general feeling of uneasiness. She was poking around a bit more than normal, and I could tell she was searching fruitlessly. She just kept saying that all my follicles were too small. I didn’t even know we were supposed to be looking at my follicle size, but knowing they were too anything had me 18 different kinds of stressed out.
I just kept thinking that this whole road was about to end.
And the look on her face did nothing to dissuade me of that fact.
She finally stopped what she was doing and looked at me; a look of intense worry.
“I’m just not sure this is going to work” she said. “It doesn’t appear as though you are responding very well.”
The tears were already brimming when I actually heard what she had said. “Wait a minute” I shouted out, “I don’t even start hormones until Monday!”
Suddenly, she was laughing. Joyous laughter. “I thought you were in the middle of your cycle already and we were doing a follicle check! I was so sad I had to be the bearer of bad news!”
Like I said, this Dr. was seriously sweet. Normally there wouldn’t have been a bad thing I could have said to her because her personality was so genuine and warm. Typically she would have been just the kind of Dr. I would be drawn to.
But you just don’t do that to an infertile woman!
I was laughing about it by the time I left too, but the whole incident also left me a little shaken.
For 10 minutes today, I thought that none of this was going to work.
My results have been forwarded to Seattle Reproductive Medicine, and there are just a few things that are changing up a bit. I will need to increase the dosage on one of my meds, and I officially now have to get a period. It turns out my lining was just too thick, so that has to go; I am stopping the pill tonight and we are shooting for sometime early next week for me to start.
I was warned that because my lining is now so thick, it will likely not be a pleasant experience.
And I so thought I had lucked out and was going to avoid that whole painful mess.
Oh well though. If getting a period is what I need to get this show on the road, let’s do it.
Besides, I haven’t had one in a year and I really don’t know how I would feel about my baby going into a dirty old uterus.
So let’s clear that sucker out and make a nice clean new home for my baby to be.
Is anyone else totally grossed out by that picture I just painted?
Well get used to it. I came home today to a few extra meds from my doctors office. One of them is a pill that I am apparently supposed to insert in my vagina twice a day at some point here.
I have no idea what that's about.
But I have a feeling the fun is just beginning.
You know, that appointment that basically could have been the end of my cycle. The checkup I needed to make sure I was good to go with starting my injections on Monday. The one last look that could feasibly have made me pretty sad had there been any cysts or anything else that would put this all on hold.
Needless to say, I was a little nervous going in; despite my newfound confidence that this is all going to work out.
As I mentioned, the doctor in my office who had previously been handling my cycle has decided to retire. On top of that, my regular doctor was out of the office today. So, this make or break appointment that everything was riding on was going to lie in the hands of a doctor I had never met before.
No big deal though, right? It was only an ultrasound. You can’t screw up an ultrasound.
Can you?
The doctor and her nurse were both incredibly sweet and they did put me right at ease.
Although, I’m starting to think I’m just “at home” on an exam table with my feet in the air.
So there I was, getting chatted up by this new doctor as she inserted the probe for my vagisound. Almost immediately however, she stopped and told me that my bladder was too full and she needed me to empty it. I had literally just gone, but apparently I drink too much water.
Without even thinking I hopped off the table to go to the bathroom (which is right there in the room through another door.) The fact that I was naked from the waist down never really even occurred to me. Just as I was flashing the good new Dr. my butt though, I could hear her choke out “Umm…. You can take this with you” as she waved the paper blanket at me.
I guess shoving foreign objects up my vagina is one thing, but seeing me walk around naked is an entire other level of intimacy. My bad. I told you guys I’ve gotten too comfortable in these places.
So then I wrapped the paper blanket around me out of shame; embarrassed more that I hadn’t thought to protect my own modesty before she did. I waddled off to the bathroom and quietly chastised myself as I attempted to push the urine out. Then I waddled back and hopped on the table again; this time careful not to expose myself in any way.
Only to have Mrs. New Doctor move the paper blanket up to my knees and look while she stuck the probe back in.
I’m going to need a gyno etiquette book so I can understand these intricate rules.
So then the real exam began, and let me just tell you; it wasn’t comfortable.
Mrs. New Doctor had a hard time finding both of my ovaries, which of course did nothing to set my nerves at ease. There is nothing quite like realizing that your ovaries have become so diminished in size that they are actually difficult for even a trained professional to locate.
It was after she found them though that I really started to sweat. Her face kept contorting and I could tell she was distressed. There were a lot of hems and haws and just a general feeling of uneasiness. She was poking around a bit more than normal, and I could tell she was searching fruitlessly. She just kept saying that all my follicles were too small. I didn’t even know we were supposed to be looking at my follicle size, but knowing they were too anything had me 18 different kinds of stressed out.
I just kept thinking that this whole road was about to end.
And the look on her face did nothing to dissuade me of that fact.
She finally stopped what she was doing and looked at me; a look of intense worry.
“I’m just not sure this is going to work” she said. “It doesn’t appear as though you are responding very well.”
The tears were already brimming when I actually heard what she had said. “Wait a minute” I shouted out, “I don’t even start hormones until Monday!”
Suddenly, she was laughing. Joyous laughter. “I thought you were in the middle of your cycle already and we were doing a follicle check! I was so sad I had to be the bearer of bad news!”
Like I said, this Dr. was seriously sweet. Normally there wouldn’t have been a bad thing I could have said to her because her personality was so genuine and warm. Typically she would have been just the kind of Dr. I would be drawn to.
But you just don’t do that to an infertile woman!
I was laughing about it by the time I left too, but the whole incident also left me a little shaken.
For 10 minutes today, I thought that none of this was going to work.
My results have been forwarded to Seattle Reproductive Medicine, and there are just a few things that are changing up a bit. I will need to increase the dosage on one of my meds, and I officially now have to get a period. It turns out my lining was just too thick, so that has to go; I am stopping the pill tonight and we are shooting for sometime early next week for me to start.
I was warned that because my lining is now so thick, it will likely not be a pleasant experience.
And I so thought I had lucked out and was going to avoid that whole painful mess.
Oh well though. If getting a period is what I need to get this show on the road, let’s do it.
Besides, I haven’t had one in a year and I really don’t know how I would feel about my baby going into a dirty old uterus.
So let’s clear that sucker out and make a nice clean new home for my baby to be.
Is anyone else totally grossed out by that picture I just painted?
Well get used to it. I came home today to a few extra meds from my doctors office. One of them is a pill that I am apparently supposed to insert in my vagina twice a day at some point here.
I have no idea what that's about.
But I have a feeling the fun is just beginning.
June 24, 2010
Mr. Wrong
I’m starting to think I could use a Mr. Wrong.
Because I’m realizing that this is the absolute worst time to have expectations of anyone.
I don’t have the patience to be let down right now. I want more; need more; demand more.
But a Mr. Wrong? I wouldn’t expect anything from him. I would know it wasn’t real and that it would never become anything real, so I wouldn’t want what I knew we couldn’t have… I would be willing to settle for the momentary butterflies and move on. Take pleasure in the excitement that comes with dating someone you know you shouldn’t be, and then let it go.
Enjoy the distraction for what it was.
There’s something to be said for Mr. Wrong. For a guy who can’t even let you down because you never really want anything more than a few swoon worthy kisses from him anyway.
He gets a bad rap, but really – no one ever got their heart broken by Mr. Wrong. You get your heart broken by the guy you see the future with; the one who has everything you thought you wanted. You get your heart broken by the guy with potential and promise; the one who just can’t seem to live up to the man he was supposed to be.
You get your heart broken by the man who refuses to hold on, but also refuses to let go.
Meanwhile, Mr. Wrong is just fun. He doesn’t have his life together, but he doesn’t pretend as though he does either. He’s not looking for anything real, but at least he’s willing to be honest about that. Mr. Wrong may have his issues, but what does it matter? It’s not like you’re getting to know him. It’s not like you’ll find yourself lying awake at night worrying about him.
Or being furious with him.
He will never cause you sleepless nights or tear filled eyes.
Mr. Wrong can do no wrong because he never promised to do anything right.
And like I said – there is something to be said for that.
Especially when you have so much else going on in your life, that worrying about Mr. (not-so) Right is the last thing you should be doing.
Maybe I don’t want to be in love right now. Maybe it is the exact wrong time for me to be caring about anyone else; to be giving anyone the power to make me sad. All that matters right now is everything that is about to begin. All I should care about are those babies to be.
Mr. (not-so) Right needs to give me a break. Either morph into Mr. Right before my eyes and be what I need, or back away and let me go.
And in the interim, if Mr. Wrong wants to step in and distract me from the disappointment; I wouldn’t be opposed.
Because I’m realizing that this is the absolute worst time to have expectations of anyone.
I don’t have the patience to be let down right now. I want more; need more; demand more.
But a Mr. Wrong? I wouldn’t expect anything from him. I would know it wasn’t real and that it would never become anything real, so I wouldn’t want what I knew we couldn’t have… I would be willing to settle for the momentary butterflies and move on. Take pleasure in the excitement that comes with dating someone you know you shouldn’t be, and then let it go.
Enjoy the distraction for what it was.
There’s something to be said for Mr. Wrong. For a guy who can’t even let you down because you never really want anything more than a few swoon worthy kisses from him anyway.
He gets a bad rap, but really – no one ever got their heart broken by Mr. Wrong. You get your heart broken by the guy you see the future with; the one who has everything you thought you wanted. You get your heart broken by the guy with potential and promise; the one who just can’t seem to live up to the man he was supposed to be.
You get your heart broken by the man who refuses to hold on, but also refuses to let go.
Meanwhile, Mr. Wrong is just fun. He doesn’t have his life together, but he doesn’t pretend as though he does either. He’s not looking for anything real, but at least he’s willing to be honest about that. Mr. Wrong may have his issues, but what does it matter? It’s not like you’re getting to know him. It’s not like you’ll find yourself lying awake at night worrying about him.
Or being furious with him.
He will never cause you sleepless nights or tear filled eyes.
Mr. Wrong can do no wrong because he never promised to do anything right.
And like I said – there is something to be said for that.
Especially when you have so much else going on in your life, that worrying about Mr. (not-so) Right is the last thing you should be doing.
Maybe I don’t want to be in love right now. Maybe it is the exact wrong time for me to be caring about anyone else; to be giving anyone the power to make me sad. All that matters right now is everything that is about to begin. All I should care about are those babies to be.
Mr. (not-so) Right needs to give me a break. Either morph into Mr. Right before my eyes and be what I need, or back away and let me go.
And in the interim, if Mr. Wrong wants to step in and distract me from the disappointment; I wouldn’t be opposed.
June 23, 2010
Here's Your Sign
I think it was just a few weeks ago when I was bemoaning that loss of connection; feeling like I needed a message and to hear God speaking to me again.
It wasn’t that I felt like anything was wrong, I just felt like that line of communication was momentarily shut down. I was feeling like I was wading around in the middle of the ocean by myself; like there was no one to call to for help. No one to guide me.
Well, let me just tell you that after all the signs I have had this last two days; I am feeling that warmth again. That reminder that I am on the right path and that there is a plan in place for me; even when I have no idea what that plan is.
Really and truly, those free fertility drugs are a miracle in my mind and nothing less. So much more special than if I had gotten them through some program. These are from a woman like me; a woman who would do anything to carry a child inside of her. When you think about the timing and the fact that they belonged to a couple right here in Anchorage who just happens to go to my doctors office (a doctor’s office which really coordinates very few IVF cycles compared to most clinics), it just seems kind of… kismet. If I were cycling a month later or earlier, those drugs could have very easily gone to someone else. But instead, the timing lined up perfectly so that I could save on that one expense of this process.
Coincidentally, I e-mailed the miracle necklace to my coordinator and told her that I understood she couldn’t give me any medical information on my donors, but I was wondering if she could tell me if she thought giving them that necklace would be good or bad. Yes, I was being a little sneaky about it, and I told her she of course didn’t have to answer… I just didn’t want to risk giving it to them if they for some reason did not conceive and were simply giving up.
She wrote back that she thought it was a wholly appropriate gift, so I ordered it yesterday and I’m going to try to pen out a heartfelt card to go along with it. Did I mention that I got the last one? That's right, when I bought it there was only one left. So for those of you who loved it as much as I did, I'm sorry! How crazy is that though? This perfect necklace for this perfect family because of a perfect gift, and I happen to find it when there is only one left! I’m hoping it will be here by next week, so I can leave it for them before I go to Seattle.
When I went to pick up the drugs today, my nurse brought them out in this bag:
Again, I felt like this was a sign that these drugs were meant for me. I know to some people that may sound so silly, but I really am a person who looks for signs in this life; good and bad. I let myself be led by completely silly occurrences sometimes – I’ll tell you what though; how I read signs almost always ends up being right. And I’m sorry, look at the colors on that bag. Then look at the colors on my blog. Then look at the colors in my house.
I only know one color scheme, and the bag that carried my donated meds happens to be that color scheme?
Here’s your sign.
That wasn’t even the biggest kicker today though. The whole reason I was there was because my regular doctor had asked me to come in and talk to her. I hadn’t really realized what was going on, but the doctor in the clinic who typically coordinates IVF cycles with Seattle has decided to retire. It is all very last minute from what I understand, and her last day will be July 1st.
Don’t worry! Because of how far along I am in my cycle, this won’t really affect me at all. My doctor really just wanted me to come in because she wanted to make sure I was going to be OK with the few changes I may be facing. She told me that they would be finishing out all the current cycles, but that they probably wouldn’t be taking on any new ones any time soon. My doctors office will only be offering very limited infertility treatments from here on out.
What does this mean to me? Well, do you remember how bummed I was initially when I found out that Lupron wasn’t working as well as it should to treat my endo? My original cycle date was in November, and I really believed I needed that time to be fully prepared. The idea of moving up to July initially scared me – I wasn’t sure I would be ready; financially, emotionally, and physically.
Well guess what – if my cycle hadn’t been moved up, I wouldn’t be cycling here at all. I would've been facing having to be in Seattle for every single appointment. That would have meant more time off work (time I wouldn’t have had even by November) and more money on extra plane tickets. It would have added an entire other level of stress to this whole process.
But because God had a plan, it didn’t. Because He knew better than me, it all worked out for the best.
And I am getting the easiest possible cycle I could have hoped for living somewhere without any fertility clinics in sight. I am getting treatment that I would not have gotten 6 months from now.
Pretty incredible, right? There is a plan, and I am on the right path. I have my suppression check on Friday to make sure everything is good to go, and initially I was getting very nervous about that; I was worrying about what would happen if everything wasn’t good. If my cycle had to be canceled.
I got a reminder today though that even if that happens, there is a reason. There is always a reason. Even when we don’t understand it in the moment, God usually has better plans than we had.
And that is pretty incredible to think about.
So here’s your sign.
What are you going to do with it?
It wasn’t that I felt like anything was wrong, I just felt like that line of communication was momentarily shut down. I was feeling like I was wading around in the middle of the ocean by myself; like there was no one to call to for help. No one to guide me.
Well, let me just tell you that after all the signs I have had this last two days; I am feeling that warmth again. That reminder that I am on the right path and that there is a plan in place for me; even when I have no idea what that plan is.
Really and truly, those free fertility drugs are a miracle in my mind and nothing less. So much more special than if I had gotten them through some program. These are from a woman like me; a woman who would do anything to carry a child inside of her. When you think about the timing and the fact that they belonged to a couple right here in Anchorage who just happens to go to my doctors office (a doctor’s office which really coordinates very few IVF cycles compared to most clinics), it just seems kind of… kismet. If I were cycling a month later or earlier, those drugs could have very easily gone to someone else. But instead, the timing lined up perfectly so that I could save on that one expense of this process.
Coincidentally, I e-mailed the miracle necklace to my coordinator and told her that I understood she couldn’t give me any medical information on my donors, but I was wondering if she could tell me if she thought giving them that necklace would be good or bad. Yes, I was being a little sneaky about it, and I told her she of course didn’t have to answer… I just didn’t want to risk giving it to them if they for some reason did not conceive and were simply giving up.
She wrote back that she thought it was a wholly appropriate gift, so I ordered it yesterday and I’m going to try to pen out a heartfelt card to go along with it. Did I mention that I got the last one? That's right, when I bought it there was only one left. So for those of you who loved it as much as I did, I'm sorry! How crazy is that though? This perfect necklace for this perfect family because of a perfect gift, and I happen to find it when there is only one left! I’m hoping it will be here by next week, so I can leave it for them before I go to Seattle.
When I went to pick up the drugs today, my nurse brought them out in this bag:
Again, I felt like this was a sign that these drugs were meant for me. I know to some people that may sound so silly, but I really am a person who looks for signs in this life; good and bad. I let myself be led by completely silly occurrences sometimes – I’ll tell you what though; how I read signs almost always ends up being right. And I’m sorry, look at the colors on that bag. Then look at the colors on my blog. Then look at the colors in my house.
I only know one color scheme, and the bag that carried my donated meds happens to be that color scheme?
Here’s your sign.
That wasn’t even the biggest kicker today though. The whole reason I was there was because my regular doctor had asked me to come in and talk to her. I hadn’t really realized what was going on, but the doctor in the clinic who typically coordinates IVF cycles with Seattle has decided to retire. It is all very last minute from what I understand, and her last day will be July 1st.
Don’t worry! Because of how far along I am in my cycle, this won’t really affect me at all. My doctor really just wanted me to come in because she wanted to make sure I was going to be OK with the few changes I may be facing. She told me that they would be finishing out all the current cycles, but that they probably wouldn’t be taking on any new ones any time soon. My doctors office will only be offering very limited infertility treatments from here on out.
What does this mean to me? Well, do you remember how bummed I was initially when I found out that Lupron wasn’t working as well as it should to treat my endo? My original cycle date was in November, and I really believed I needed that time to be fully prepared. The idea of moving up to July initially scared me – I wasn’t sure I would be ready; financially, emotionally, and physically.
Well guess what – if my cycle hadn’t been moved up, I wouldn’t be cycling here at all. I would've been facing having to be in Seattle for every single appointment. That would have meant more time off work (time I wouldn’t have had even by November) and more money on extra plane tickets. It would have added an entire other level of stress to this whole process.
But because God had a plan, it didn’t. Because He knew better than me, it all worked out for the best.
And I am getting the easiest possible cycle I could have hoped for living somewhere without any fertility clinics in sight. I am getting treatment that I would not have gotten 6 months from now.
Pretty incredible, right? There is a plan, and I am on the right path. I have my suppression check on Friday to make sure everything is good to go, and initially I was getting very nervous about that; I was worrying about what would happen if everything wasn’t good. If my cycle had to be canceled.
I got a reminder today though that even if that happens, there is a reason. There is always a reason. Even when we don’t understand it in the moment, God usually has better plans than we had.
And that is pretty incredible to think about.
So here’s your sign.
What are you going to do with it?
June 22, 2010
I May Have Dropped The Ball
I was doing my nightly blog reading Sunday night when I noticed there may have been a trend going on.
A trend I wasn’t privy to until after the fact.
A trend I probably should have been a part of.
It turns out that this weekend was Father’s Day.
No, I’m not a total idiot. I did call my dad on Sunday, and I put a card in the mail early last week. I do have to admit that I completely spaced on his birthday this year (and it just so happened to be the same weekend he told me he was getting a divorce) so you can imagine I felt like daughter of the year at that moment. Which is why I absolutely did not forget Father's Day.
But maybe I missed the memo about all the dad love meant for blogs too!
I guess I was just too busy writing about pissing myself Saturday night.
So here I am; a day late and a dollar short.
Scratch that. I'm two days late, but only because yesterday I had that exciting free med news to write about. And yes, I let free meds trump my dad love post.
Sue me.
But I feel it’s necessary to say something, because I do have a pretty amazing dad and I did not mean to ignore him on the day for honoring fathers here on the old blog.
So, why is my dad so amazing?
Well for one – he reads this blog. Regularly.
I’m not kidding.
He’s always been pretty good like that though. My mother checked out of my life at an age when most girls need their mothers the most, and my dad stepped in as best he could. I never did learn some of the essentials to being a girl (for instance, I’m pretty sure nail painting is a skill that is lost on me), but my dad was the one who talked me through my first period and kept the door open for sex conversations as well. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t think he ever enjoyed any of that. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee it all made him painfully uncomfortable. But he wanted to make sure I had someone to talk to, so he became that someone.
I even have to give credit where credit is due: when he found out I was no longer pure mere weeks after I lost my virginity, he didn’t even yell once. He maintained his cool and made sure I knew how to be safe and understood that I could go to him if I ever got in trouble.
Then I'm pretty sure he walked away and hit a wall - but not in my line of sight.
What a guy, right?!?
Seriously though, my dad has been one of my biggest sources of support in this life. He has actually amazed me with his ability to understand how I’m feeling and what I need to hear in the face of this struggle with endometriosis and infertility. Even some of my best girl friends haven’t been able to relate to me as well as my dad has. He is still the first person I call as I leave doctor’s appointments, and he has become my most trusted advisor when it comes to making all these decisions I never thought I would have to make.
I don’t think any father envisions single motherhood for their daughters, but when I was faced with the decision of now or never my dad knew what I would choose months before I actually chose; and he was rooting for that option all along. He has never questioned my ability to do this, or the fact that I am meant to be a mother; no matter what it takes. When my world crashed around me as I discovered the Lupron wasn’t really effectively suppressing my endo, my dad’s response to an expedited time frame was “Great. I’m ready to be a grandpa.”
And he really will be the most amazing grandpa. You have never seen a man so great around kids in your life. He will scoop those babies of mine up and never let them go; I guarantee it. Regardless of what happens in my love life, my children will never want for a good male role model. Everything they need to learn they will get right from my dad.
So here’s to you pops – for putting up with a lifetime of my over sharing and what now seems like far too long a time period dealing with my hormonal mood shifts (thought my teenage years would be the end of it, didn't you?!?) Thank you for still loving me throughout and beyond my crazy angst filled years, and for helping me get through this last year without completely losing it. I’m honestly not sure what would have happened to me without you in my life.
And it’s totally OK to admit I’m your favorite child… baby brother knows it already anyway!
I love you old man.
And I can’t wait for you to be a grandpa too.
June 21, 2010
Small Miracles
When I wasn’t approved for the free med program last week, I will admit that I was slightly bummed. The entire program was based off of income, and I couldn’t for the life of me fathom how anyone could ever possibly make this work making much less than I do; why did I get denied? Knowing that it was based on income, I was surprised to hear that I make too much. Especially when you consider the fact that I am doing this without the second income that many families have.
I reasoned with myself that I do live in Alaska, and that due to the increased cost of living my salary is higher than it would be in the lower 48. The program didn’t seem to take cost of living into consideration at all, so it’s possible that my income alone really is that much more comparatively. I’m not sure what the parameters were, but I’m guessing that when offset against the rest of the country; I fall more on the higher end of the mid range incomes.
I was shocked that anyone would make such a generous donation, but I waited anyway; thinking it was likely too good to be true but still loving the idea of it.
Well, I got a wonderful e-mail today. Almost all of my cycle meds have been donated. I will still have to get a few vials of Menopur and one more of my antagonist, but other than that all of the meds I will need have been bought and paid for and are waiting for me to pick up at my suppression check on Friday.
Can we take a moment to ponder that? Practically an entire cycles worth of drugs just fell into my lap, just when I was getting ready to shell out the money to pay for them. I can't describe to you how blessed I feel; how much I truly believe that this is just one more sign that I am on the right path. That He is holding my hand.
I am beyond excited. Yes, I had the money ready; but this gives me just that much more of a cushion.
It gives me room to breathe
After my excitement wore off though, I realized that in order for someone to donate a cycles worth of meds, they must have had a cycle canceled.
Right?
My heart went out to this woman I have never even met. To have a cycle canceled and then to have the graciousness to donate your unused drugs?
Incredible.
I knew immediately that I wanted to do something to thank her; that I wanted her to know how much this gift means to me.
I wrote my coordinator asking if there was anything she could tell me about the donor, and if she thought I would be able to somehow thank them.
She told me that she knew the couple well and that they were wonderful people. Apparently they had had infertility insurance coverage so they purchased 2 cycles worth of meds at once; just in case. When they realized they no longer needed that second cycle, they decided to donate the remainder of the drugs.
She wouldn’t confirm it, but I am of course pulling for the fact that they achieved pregnancy. I am hoping that is the only plausible explanation for why they wouldn’t need that second cycle they had purchased that little insurance policy of meds for.
I am also dying to know where they work in Alaska that provides them with infertility coverage, but that is beside the point.
What I’m wondering now is, what should I do? Obviously I will write a letter, but I also want to include a small gift. I was thinking one of these etsy necklaces, just because I secretly covet one myself; but I wasn’t sure if that was too risky given the fact that I do not know for sure the outcome of their original cycle.
What would you do? And what would mean the most to you if you were the one who had given the meds?
What is the best way to thank someone for such a generous gift?
And can I only hope that this is just a small taste of the miracles yet to come?
I reasoned with myself that I do live in Alaska, and that due to the increased cost of living my salary is higher than it would be in the lower 48. The program didn’t seem to take cost of living into consideration at all, so it’s possible that my income alone really is that much more comparatively. I’m not sure what the parameters were, but I’m guessing that when offset against the rest of the country; I fall more on the higher end of the mid range incomes.
Oh well. I told myself it wasn’t that big a deal. It’s not like I had been planning on free meds in the first place. I wasn’t told about the program until the last minute, and I was denied before I ever even got a chance to get excited about it. I reminded myself that I already had the money lined up for these meds, and that while it would have been nice to save that $2000-$3000; I would survive just fine without it.
Maybe there just so happens to be someone out there who can't do a cycle at all without that help though. Thinking about that made me glad the money would go to other people. With or without the help, I can still pull off this chance to try. There are many others who I am sure rely on that assistance in order to make even one attempt though.
Maybe there just so happens to be someone out there who can't do a cycle at all without that help though. Thinking about that made me glad the money would go to other people. With or without the help, I can still pull off this chance to try. There are many others who I am sure rely on that assistance in order to make even one attempt though.
I’d much rather see them get what they need in order to have the same chances I do.
So as much as I would have loved that extra assistance, I reasoned that it just wasn't meant for me and I moved on.
So as much as I would have loved that extra assistance, I reasoned that it just wasn't meant for me and I moved on.
I was trying to work out where to order my meds from when my coordinator let me know she wanted to hold off though. She said she just might have a couple up here that were getting ready to donate their meds; she wanted to see if I could get them.
I was shocked that anyone would make such a generous donation, but I waited anyway; thinking it was likely too good to be true but still loving the idea of it.
Well, I got a wonderful e-mail today. Almost all of my cycle meds have been donated. I will still have to get a few vials of Menopur and one more of my antagonist, but other than that all of the meds I will need have been bought and paid for and are waiting for me to pick up at my suppression check on Friday.
Can we take a moment to ponder that? Practically an entire cycles worth of drugs just fell into my lap, just when I was getting ready to shell out the money to pay for them. I can't describe to you how blessed I feel; how much I truly believe that this is just one more sign that I am on the right path. That He is holding my hand.
I am beyond excited. Yes, I had the money ready; but this gives me just that much more of a cushion.
It gives me room to breathe
It really is quite huge when you think about it too. Someone right here in my small town just so happened to have a cycles worth of meds to donate at the exact same time I would be needing them. These drugs aren’t over in Seattle, or across the coast in New York; they belong to a couple who goes to my same doctors office in my same town who had exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it.
How incredible is that?
Right?
My heart went out to this woman I have never even met. To have a cycle canceled and then to have the graciousness to donate your unused drugs?
Incredible.
I knew immediately that I wanted to do something to thank her; that I wanted her to know how much this gift means to me.
I wrote my coordinator asking if there was anything she could tell me about the donor, and if she thought I would be able to somehow thank them.
She told me that she knew the couple well and that they were wonderful people. Apparently they had had infertility insurance coverage so they purchased 2 cycles worth of meds at once; just in case. When they realized they no longer needed that second cycle, they decided to donate the remainder of the drugs.
She wouldn’t confirm it, but I am of course pulling for the fact that they achieved pregnancy. I am hoping that is the only plausible explanation for why they wouldn’t need that second cycle they had purchased that little insurance policy of meds for.
I am also dying to know where they work in Alaska that provides them with infertility coverage, but that is beside the point.
What I’m wondering now is, what should I do? Obviously I will write a letter, but I also want to include a small gift. I was thinking one of these etsy necklaces, just because I secretly covet one myself; but I wasn’t sure if that was too risky given the fact that I do not know for sure the outcome of their original cycle.
What would you do? And what would mean the most to you if you were the one who had given the meds?
What is the best way to thank someone for such a generous gift?
And can I only hope that this is just a small taste of the miracles yet to come?
June 20, 2010
Massive Fail
I wore my Spanx out for the first time last night.
I figured it would be like a practice run for them, and I was all about feeling skinnier on my girls night out.
Here’s the thing though; I think the extra “support” really just made me more aware of my stomachs… girth. It was all condensed into one tight little package, so I couldn't stop focusing on it. My hands just kept flying straight to my little pooch.
And really, for what those things cost I would have expected that little pooch to straight up disappear. Not become that much easier for me to obsess over!
The night started out at a nice steakhouse, where I managed to avoid any meat consumption (I’m sorry! I know I should have been more brave! But I have got cooking chicken breasts at home down now, and I just can’t bring myself to venture out beyond that). So I made a meal of sides, and felt my gut expand with each bite of carb and swig of martini.
We were all having a good time though, and it didn’t really matter. Until I realized that while dancing later in the evening my shirt kept riding up, and I didn’t even know it because the Spanx made me feel all covered up.
Classy class.
That wasn’t even the kicker though. Remember that little pee slit I told you all about? The one I was so perturbed yet equally fascinated by?
Yeah, it was a massive fail.
I went to the bathroom, tried to move the slit aside, and…
I peed all over myself and the Spanx.
Did I mention that I had asparagus for dinner?
So basically, I had asparagus pee clinging to me for the rest of the night.
Not cool.
And before you start thinking I was too drunk to handle the slit, I wasn’t. I had 3 drinks the entire night, and we started at 7 and I was home by 1. I was not drunk at any point in the evening. I should clearly have been able to maneuver that stupid slit. But I couldn’t. In fact, half way through peeing I stopped what I was doing, stood up, and pulled the Spanx down because I just couldn’t deal with what a mess I was making.
It was gross.
So now I have asparagus pee infested Spanx and I’m wondering:
Can I send them back?
I give Spanx a massive fail. Don’t buy into the hype.
Or you’ll wind up peeing all over yourself too.
I figured it would be like a practice run for them, and I was all about feeling skinnier on my girls night out.
Here’s the thing though; I think the extra “support” really just made me more aware of my stomachs… girth. It was all condensed into one tight little package, so I couldn't stop focusing on it. My hands just kept flying straight to my little pooch.
And really, for what those things cost I would have expected that little pooch to straight up disappear. Not become that much easier for me to obsess over!
The night started out at a nice steakhouse, where I managed to avoid any meat consumption (I’m sorry! I know I should have been more brave! But I have got cooking chicken breasts at home down now, and I just can’t bring myself to venture out beyond that). So I made a meal of sides, and felt my gut expand with each bite of carb and swig of martini.
We were all having a good time though, and it didn’t really matter. Until I realized that while dancing later in the evening my shirt kept riding up, and I didn’t even know it because the Spanx made me feel all covered up.
Classy class.
That wasn’t even the kicker though. Remember that little pee slit I told you all about? The one I was so perturbed yet equally fascinated by?
Yeah, it was a massive fail.
I went to the bathroom, tried to move the slit aside, and…
I peed all over myself and the Spanx.
Did I mention that I had asparagus for dinner?
So basically, I had asparagus pee clinging to me for the rest of the night.
Not cool.
And before you start thinking I was too drunk to handle the slit, I wasn’t. I had 3 drinks the entire night, and we started at 7 and I was home by 1. I was not drunk at any point in the evening. I should clearly have been able to maneuver that stupid slit. But I couldn’t. In fact, half way through peeing I stopped what I was doing, stood up, and pulled the Spanx down because I just couldn’t deal with what a mess I was making.
It was gross.
So now I have asparagus pee infested Spanx and I’m wondering:
Can I send them back?
I give Spanx a massive fail. Don’t buy into the hype.
Or you’ll wind up peeing all over yourself too.
June 19, 2010
IF Exhaustion
Hiking last night was a blast (lots of time for girl chats with my favorite teenager), but I came home just exhausted.
After a hot shower and a few bites to eat, I was ready to pass out. I managed to keep myself awake until 11:00, but then I very pathetically crashed before midnight on a Friday night.
Some 20-something I am.
That’s not the worst part though. I slept, and I slept hard, until Mrs. King called me at 11:40 this morning.
That’s not normal, right? I mean, there is no way people should sleep for almost 13 hours like that. It just can’t be right.
I’ve determined that it is IF exhaustion. Even though I feel like I am dealing with the stress a lot better this last week, I think my body is dealing a little differently. Clearly I needed the sleep or I wouldn’t have been able to stay in bed like that, but it’s still odd.
IF has wiped me out.
With everything coming up so soon, there are obviously worse things I could be doing than catching up on sleep, but I’m wondering if I will ever feel “normal” again. I used to be a horrible sleeper. I would toss and turn and never get more than 8 hours – if I was lucky. This last year though, I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow. There is no reason to question my ability to fall asleep, because it has become a skill I excel at. I used to fight sleep for hours, but no more. Now I’m out in moments.
And apparently sleeping until some outside force wakes me up.
Am I the only one who is experiencing this? Because you would think that stress and worry would keep me up, but instead it just appears to be wearing me down; even without my realizing it.
I suppose I prefer this to the no sleep option, but it’s still just so bizarre to me.
Maybe my body is just gearing up for when there will be baby keeping me awake at all hours of the night though. Catching up on sleep now, while I still can.
The bride to be is having her bachelorette party tonight, so I am trying to prepare for that now. I painted my nails the ugliest color you have ever seen, and am about to run out to get some remover to fix that situation. I had a cute backless top picked out, but then I let Teeny cup me on Wednesday, so now that’s out. It’s been raining for the last hour though, so hopefully I’ll be able to pull off something a little more conservative without it seeming odd that I would go out for a night on the town all covered up.
I’m kind of looking at this as my last hoorah before the IVF festivities begin, so hopefully I’ll be able to hang with the girls for most of the night.
Although, given how I’m feeling, I may just end up in bed before midnight.
Again.
After a hot shower and a few bites to eat, I was ready to pass out. I managed to keep myself awake until 11:00, but then I very pathetically crashed before midnight on a Friday night.
Some 20-something I am.
That’s not the worst part though. I slept, and I slept hard, until Mrs. King called me at 11:40 this morning.
That’s not normal, right? I mean, there is no way people should sleep for almost 13 hours like that. It just can’t be right.
I’ve determined that it is IF exhaustion. Even though I feel like I am dealing with the stress a lot better this last week, I think my body is dealing a little differently. Clearly I needed the sleep or I wouldn’t have been able to stay in bed like that, but it’s still odd.
IF has wiped me out.
With everything coming up so soon, there are obviously worse things I could be doing than catching up on sleep, but I’m wondering if I will ever feel “normal” again. I used to be a horrible sleeper. I would toss and turn and never get more than 8 hours – if I was lucky. This last year though, I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow. There is no reason to question my ability to fall asleep, because it has become a skill I excel at. I used to fight sleep for hours, but no more. Now I’m out in moments.
And apparently sleeping until some outside force wakes me up.
Am I the only one who is experiencing this? Because you would think that stress and worry would keep me up, but instead it just appears to be wearing me down; even without my realizing it.
I suppose I prefer this to the no sleep option, but it’s still just so bizarre to me.
Maybe my body is just gearing up for when there will be baby keeping me awake at all hours of the night though. Catching up on sleep now, while I still can.
The bride to be is having her bachelorette party tonight, so I am trying to prepare for that now. I painted my nails the ugliest color you have ever seen, and am about to run out to get some remover to fix that situation. I had a cute backless top picked out, but then I let Teeny cup me on Wednesday, so now that’s out. It’s been raining for the last hour though, so hopefully I’ll be able to pull off something a little more conservative without it seeming odd that I would go out for a night on the town all covered up.
I’m kind of looking at this as my last hoorah before the IVF festivities begin, so hopefully I’ll be able to hang with the girls for most of the night.
Although, given how I’m feeling, I may just end up in bed before midnight.
Again.
June 18, 2010
When I Grow Up
The ex is letting me steal his daughter tonight and take her hiking, and I have to say that I am beyond excited.
I love this little girl, probably more than anyone should ever love another persons child – but then, I’ve got a lot of friends with kids who I feel just as strongly about so maybe I’m just odd.
What is so special about this little girl though?
Well, she is so much like me when I was her age it’s not even funny. She thinks the same, reacts the same, and behaves the same. She is far too smart for her age (13), and spends a lot of time trying to make everyone around her happy. But she also has her struggles; which she attempts to hide from the world.
I just see myself in her, and it’s what endeared me to her immediately when we first met 2 years ago.
So, I am pretty excited for some one on one girl time tonight to really catch up on what is going on in her life. I’ve been giddy just thinking about it all day, but it’s also got me thinking again about that little girl I used to be. Wondering what she would think about this 27 year old version of me and the life she has built for herself.
When I was a kid, the only thing I knew I really wanted was to be a mom – even then. I read about a woman who had the World Record for birthing the most children, and I determined I was going to beat her.
I want to say it was 69 kids.
Ouch.
I was so sure I could do it though; so convinced that I would be an amazing mom to every one of those little babes.
I had this plan that involved me starting to pop out babies no later than 20. I was really always convinced that I was going to be a young mom. Even when my faith in the idea of marriage faltered, I always had this feeling that I was going to get pregnant early. Don’t get me wrong – I was always really responsible with my sexual activity (obviously, since I never did have a child even when I was perfectly reproductively healthy), but I also always kind of felt like one would slip past the goalie. Every year I had a birthday where I hadn’t gotten knocked up, I said a silent prayer for beating what I thought was the inevitable.
Again, if I knew then what I know now…
But yes, if you had told that 13 year old version of me that I would be 27 and still childless, she wouldn’t have believed you. That wasn’t in my life plan – and I was so stubborn that I would have argued with anyone (even myself) that my life plan was the bees knees.
Obviously I grew up and realized that young motherhood (especially single young motherhood) wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. So I waited. I was responsible. I gave myself time to grow.
There are clearly days now when I wish I hadn’t been quite so responsible, and had taken advantage of my good lady parts when I had them; but I know that wouldn’t have been what was right. I had so much growing up to do; so much healing that was necessary for me to be someone who was capable of putting another life first.
And I’m there now.
So while my 13 year old self would have been sad to know that 14 years later there would still be no babies, I think she would have understood. Because deep down she recognized that the wounds that had already been leveled would require time to heal. I think she knew that she couldn’t throw herself into taking care of other little lives until she took care of her own first.
But she still would have been disappointed.
(community discussion: How would your younger self have felt about how you've become?)
Which makes me wonder how much different my future will be from how I picture it now. How far I will stray from where I think I’ll be.
When I grow up:
I will know the difference between love and lust.
I will be able to trust fully in God.
I will let go of all my hurts and disappointments.
I will have passion about my career.
I will walk with strength and grace.
I will figure out how to decorate.
And dress myself fashionably.
And let people into my heart without fear.
I will be a mommy.
I love this little girl, probably more than anyone should ever love another persons child – but then, I’ve got a lot of friends with kids who I feel just as strongly about so maybe I’m just odd.
What is so special about this little girl though?
Well, she is so much like me when I was her age it’s not even funny. She thinks the same, reacts the same, and behaves the same. She is far too smart for her age (13), and spends a lot of time trying to make everyone around her happy. But she also has her struggles; which she attempts to hide from the world.
I just see myself in her, and it’s what endeared me to her immediately when we first met 2 years ago.
So, I am pretty excited for some one on one girl time tonight to really catch up on what is going on in her life. I’ve been giddy just thinking about it all day, but it’s also got me thinking again about that little girl I used to be. Wondering what she would think about this 27 year old version of me and the life she has built for herself.
When I was a kid, the only thing I knew I really wanted was to be a mom – even then. I read about a woman who had the World Record for birthing the most children, and I determined I was going to beat her.
I want to say it was 69 kids.
Ouch.
I was so sure I could do it though; so convinced that I would be an amazing mom to every one of those little babes.
I had this plan that involved me starting to pop out babies no later than 20. I was really always convinced that I was going to be a young mom. Even when my faith in the idea of marriage faltered, I always had this feeling that I was going to get pregnant early. Don’t get me wrong – I was always really responsible with my sexual activity (obviously, since I never did have a child even when I was perfectly reproductively healthy), but I also always kind of felt like one would slip past the goalie. Every year I had a birthday where I hadn’t gotten knocked up, I said a silent prayer for beating what I thought was the inevitable.
Again, if I knew then what I know now…
But yes, if you had told that 13 year old version of me that I would be 27 and still childless, she wouldn’t have believed you. That wasn’t in my life plan – and I was so stubborn that I would have argued with anyone (even myself) that my life plan was the bees knees.
Obviously I grew up and realized that young motherhood (especially single young motherhood) wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. So I waited. I was responsible. I gave myself time to grow.
There are clearly days now when I wish I hadn’t been quite so responsible, and had taken advantage of my good lady parts when I had them; but I know that wouldn’t have been what was right. I had so much growing up to do; so much healing that was necessary for me to be someone who was capable of putting another life first.
And I’m there now.
So while my 13 year old self would have been sad to know that 14 years later there would still be no babies, I think she would have understood. Because deep down she recognized that the wounds that had already been leveled would require time to heal. I think she knew that she couldn’t throw herself into taking care of other little lives until she took care of her own first.
But she still would have been disappointed.
(community discussion: How would your younger self have felt about how you've become?)
Which makes me wonder how much different my future will be from how I picture it now. How far I will stray from where I think I’ll be.
When I grow up:
I will know the difference between love and lust.
I will be able to trust fully in God.
I will let go of all my hurts and disappointments.
I will have passion about my career.
I will walk with strength and grace.
I will figure out how to decorate.
And dress myself fashionably.
And let people into my heart without fear.
I will be a mommy.
June 17, 2010
Religion Will Always Be Flawed
Have you ever heard something so profound, that you weren’t able to stop thinking about it? Something that struck you as so right, that you felt like it consumed your brain for far too long as you mulled it over.
Those moments are few and far between, but I tend to think that when something hits you like that there is usually a reason.
I watched Angels and Demons the other night. It was good. I didn’t love it, but it was still good. Towards the end though, one of the priests made a statement that kind of floored me:
“Religion will always be flawed, because man will always be flawed.”
I’ve heard similar sentiments before, but this just really hit the nail on the head and tied into something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I think we tend to put too much credence into our religion above and beyond our actual faith. We define ourselves, separate out into varying sects, and claim our righteousness over the others. We deem that our interpretations are the correct ones, and that anyone who disagrees is blasphemous and wrong.
OK, maybe we don’t all do that (I certainly don't believe I do), but I have encountered many within religion who do. In fact, for years it was those strong views that made me shy away from church. I was uncomfortable around the “I’m right and you’re wrong” sentiments. While I maintained my faith in God, my faith in religion severely faltered. I just couldn’t imagine a God who would want this fighting over varying interpretations; I couldn’t picture a God who would want us condemning each other.
My feelings about religion have changed as I have slowly found my footing within my faith, but I do still see religion as flawed. If it weren’t flawed, wouldn’t it be a uniting force rather than a factor in almost all wars?
I do feel God walking beside me, and I know he is guiding me on this path. I have gained so much from reading the bible, and I find myself thinking things through a little differently every single day. I have even felt my prayers become more personal; deeper in connection and meaning. I embrace my faith, but I wonder often why my faith has to be right while others are wrong. Isn’t it possible that God is bigger than that; that He has presented Himself in a different light to different people depending on what they needed to see in order to follow? Isn’t it possible that while there are a few main concepts which aren’t negotiable, the rest isn’t as black and white as we would all like to believe it to be?
I've been thinking about religion a lot lately; about how I want to raise my children to believe. It's even been a recent topic over at the community. And the truth is, I'm not sure there are any simple answers; because I may just be too flawed myself to be an acceptable teacher of faith to anyone - even my own children.
Sometimes I catch myself so caught up in my life that I forget to check back in with God. I get bowed down by the details, completely ignoring the fact that He has my hand. I fight everything; even Him. I determine I've got this all on my own shoulders; not realizing until it's too late that the weight of even half of what He is holding would crush me if He wasn't there.
I am flawed.
But no more or less so than anyone else. Which makes me wonder if it really should be man who determines right and wrong within religion, or if we perhaps shouldn’t all be spending more time listening to the voice that is whispering to us as our guide; allowing Him to show us the path He wants us to take as individuals without feeling the need to inflict our beliefs upon others. Understanding that they may have a path of their own; a path we can’t see because it is not ours to take.
Like I said, this has been on my mind a lot recently; wondering about the separation even within the Christian religion. I don’t believe those gaps would exist if it weren’t for the failings of man, and even if they did exist; I don’t believe they would matter.
I just can’t imagine that this volleying to be right, or better, or more faithful was ever the purpose.
I don’t want my children to view religion as either being right or wrong. I want to teach them that faith is a wholly personal experience that is solely based on ones own relationship with God, while religion is more like language; people tend to stick with what they were brought up with. You can learn a new language, but normally you just speak what those around you are speaking.
I'm just not sure I understand why religion has to be this all or nothing, black or white, yours or mine concept. I don't get why we can't each have our own relationship without it being seen as a threat to the opposing view.
But maybe that is just part of the flaw.
Those moments are few and far between, but I tend to think that when something hits you like that there is usually a reason.
I watched Angels and Demons the other night. It was good. I didn’t love it, but it was still good. Towards the end though, one of the priests made a statement that kind of floored me:
“Religion will always be flawed, because man will always be flawed.”
I’ve heard similar sentiments before, but this just really hit the nail on the head and tied into something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I think we tend to put too much credence into our religion above and beyond our actual faith. We define ourselves, separate out into varying sects, and claim our righteousness over the others. We deem that our interpretations are the correct ones, and that anyone who disagrees is blasphemous and wrong.
OK, maybe we don’t all do that (I certainly don't believe I do), but I have encountered many within religion who do. In fact, for years it was those strong views that made me shy away from church. I was uncomfortable around the “I’m right and you’re wrong” sentiments. While I maintained my faith in God, my faith in religion severely faltered. I just couldn’t imagine a God who would want this fighting over varying interpretations; I couldn’t picture a God who would want us condemning each other.
My feelings about religion have changed as I have slowly found my footing within my faith, but I do still see religion as flawed. If it weren’t flawed, wouldn’t it be a uniting force rather than a factor in almost all wars?
I do feel God walking beside me, and I know he is guiding me on this path. I have gained so much from reading the bible, and I find myself thinking things through a little differently every single day. I have even felt my prayers become more personal; deeper in connection and meaning. I embrace my faith, but I wonder often why my faith has to be right while others are wrong. Isn’t it possible that God is bigger than that; that He has presented Himself in a different light to different people depending on what they needed to see in order to follow? Isn’t it possible that while there are a few main concepts which aren’t negotiable, the rest isn’t as black and white as we would all like to believe it to be?
I've been thinking about religion a lot lately; about how I want to raise my children to believe. It's even been a recent topic over at the community. And the truth is, I'm not sure there are any simple answers; because I may just be too flawed myself to be an acceptable teacher of faith to anyone - even my own children.
Sometimes I catch myself so caught up in my life that I forget to check back in with God. I get bowed down by the details, completely ignoring the fact that He has my hand. I fight everything; even Him. I determine I've got this all on my own shoulders; not realizing until it's too late that the weight of even half of what He is holding would crush me if He wasn't there.
I am flawed.
But no more or less so than anyone else. Which makes me wonder if it really should be man who determines right and wrong within religion, or if we perhaps shouldn’t all be spending more time listening to the voice that is whispering to us as our guide; allowing Him to show us the path He wants us to take as individuals without feeling the need to inflict our beliefs upon others. Understanding that they may have a path of their own; a path we can’t see because it is not ours to take.
Like I said, this has been on my mind a lot recently; wondering about the separation even within the Christian religion. I don’t believe those gaps would exist if it weren’t for the failings of man, and even if they did exist; I don’t believe they would matter.
I just can’t imagine that this volleying to be right, or better, or more faithful was ever the purpose.
I don’t want my children to view religion as either being right or wrong. I want to teach them that faith is a wholly personal experience that is solely based on ones own relationship with God, while religion is more like language; people tend to stick with what they were brought up with. You can learn a new language, but normally you just speak what those around you are speaking.
I'm just not sure I understand why religion has to be this all or nothing, black or white, yours or mine concept. I don't get why we can't each have our own relationship without it being seen as a threat to the opposing view.
But maybe that is just part of the flaw.
Where To Shop - Fertility Meds
I just got the call and I was not approved for the free fertility meds. Not the end of the world (although, that would have of course helped), but now I want to know what you all have learned about the best place to buy your cycle medications - who has the best deal?
You can either join in on the conversation over at the community, or leave me whatever you know here... either would be so appreciated!
You can either join in on the conversation over at the community, or leave me whatever you know here... either would be so appreciated!
June 16, 2010
Fraud
My world has been rocked. I have been scammed, and I don’t know how I will ever be able to trust again.
OK, that is a complete and utter overexageration. But my credit card was frauded, and I am a little bummed.
Partially because that has never happened to me before, and partially because of what the dirty little thieves chose to purchase.
I missed a call this morning from the credit card company inquiring about some possible fraud on my account. This has actually happened before. I am one of those people who uses her credit card for every single purchase (it’s all about the miles baby!) and then settles up at the end of the month (usually – I got a little off track this last year, but I’m back in gear now). Because I make such a wide variety of purchases and travel fairly frequently (or at least I used to – on both accounts), I get these calls every once in a while.
I was actually surprised they didn’t call me when I purchased my sperm. I really thought that one would for sure send off some red flags. After all, what kind of person buys sperm?
It has never turned out to be anything in the past though. Generally it’s because I am either a.) out of town or b.) have bought something embarrassing that I then need to voice confirm was actually mine.
Love it when that happens.
So I really thought this morning was no different. I sat down at my computer to check my account before calling though, and was hit with a rude awakening.
Friend Finder? Zoosk?
These are dating sites. And not even good ones. They are like the low end cheapo versions that don’t even begin to compare to Match and eHarmony.
And the only reason I know this is because of that job I had a few months back actually reviewing dating sites.
I think we can all agree that I am not exactly dating right now though.
And I am certainly not dating enough to be able to get my money’s worth out of annual memberships at 5 different dating sites.
That’s right people. Five annual memberships.
Is there anyone in this world that could keep up with that many sites? How many dates do people need to go on anyway?
And aren’t you kind of selling yourself short if you get an annual membership? Shouldn’t these places provide you with something real a little sooner than that?
I was pretty darn positive that none of those charges were made by me.
The fact that none of the sites were called ImgettingpregnantinafewweeksandneedababydaddySTAT.com more or less confirmed that suspicion for me.
So, I called the credit card company; highly annoyed that this was how I would have to spend my morning.
I do have to say that I am really impressed with how they handled it though. None of the charges were that much greater in price than anything I may normally buy; it was the simple fact that it was all dating sites that set them off. They canceled all the charges and then canceled my account as well. This is the annoying part, since I am now cardless for at least a few days and I have a few big baby purchases I need to make.
There go those miles.
This was especially frustrating because I needed to "prove" what I've spent in the last year on infertility for that Compassionate Care/med program. I couldn't print up my credit care records after the account was shut down though. I tried to send them bills, but they said that since the bills don't prove I actually paid they won't work.
So I am out of that boost for my application.
Not to mention that I will also need to change all my current auto payments, which will of course be a hassle.
All in all though, I guess I have to admit that it could have been worse. At least they caught it right away.
I asked if there was any way to track down who made these charges, but they said it would be nearly impossible and that they had likely gotten my credit card number from some online purchase I’ve made. They told me to start being that much more careful with my online shopping from here on out.
So now you’re probably asking what the last online purchase I made was, aren’t you?
Spanx.
No lie.
It’s the purchase that just keeps on giving.
OK, that is a complete and utter overexageration. But my credit card was frauded, and I am a little bummed.
Partially because that has never happened to me before, and partially because of what the dirty little thieves chose to purchase.
I missed a call this morning from the credit card company inquiring about some possible fraud on my account. This has actually happened before. I am one of those people who uses her credit card for every single purchase (it’s all about the miles baby!) and then settles up at the end of the month (usually – I got a little off track this last year, but I’m back in gear now). Because I make such a wide variety of purchases and travel fairly frequently (or at least I used to – on both accounts), I get these calls every once in a while.
I was actually surprised they didn’t call me when I purchased my sperm. I really thought that one would for sure send off some red flags. After all, what kind of person buys sperm?
It has never turned out to be anything in the past though. Generally it’s because I am either a.) out of town or b.) have bought something embarrassing that I then need to voice confirm was actually mine.
Love it when that happens.
So I really thought this morning was no different. I sat down at my computer to check my account before calling though, and was hit with a rude awakening.
Friend Finder? Zoosk?
These are dating sites. And not even good ones. They are like the low end cheapo versions that don’t even begin to compare to Match and eHarmony.
And the only reason I know this is because of that job I had a few months back actually reviewing dating sites.
I think we can all agree that I am not exactly dating right now though.
And I am certainly not dating enough to be able to get my money’s worth out of annual memberships at 5 different dating sites.
That’s right people. Five annual memberships.
Is there anyone in this world that could keep up with that many sites? How many dates do people need to go on anyway?
And aren’t you kind of selling yourself short if you get an annual membership? Shouldn’t these places provide you with something real a little sooner than that?
I was pretty darn positive that none of those charges were made by me.
The fact that none of the sites were called ImgettingpregnantinafewweeksandneedababydaddySTAT.com more or less confirmed that suspicion for me.
So, I called the credit card company; highly annoyed that this was how I would have to spend my morning.
I do have to say that I am really impressed with how they handled it though. None of the charges were that much greater in price than anything I may normally buy; it was the simple fact that it was all dating sites that set them off. They canceled all the charges and then canceled my account as well. This is the annoying part, since I am now cardless for at least a few days and I have a few big baby purchases I need to make.
There go those miles.
This was especially frustrating because I needed to "prove" what I've spent in the last year on infertility for that Compassionate Care/med program. I couldn't print up my credit care records after the account was shut down though. I tried to send them bills, but they said that since the bills don't prove I actually paid they won't work.
So I am out of that boost for my application.
Not to mention that I will also need to change all my current auto payments, which will of course be a hassle.
All in all though, I guess I have to admit that it could have been worse. At least they caught it right away.
I asked if there was any way to track down who made these charges, but they said it would be nearly impossible and that they had likely gotten my credit card number from some online purchase I’ve made. They told me to start being that much more careful with my online shopping from here on out.
So now you’re probably asking what the last online purchase I made was, aren’t you?
Spanx.
No lie.
It’s the purchase that just keeps on giving.
June 15, 2010
Am I a Stalker NOW?
There was a point last night where I really thought my plates were being written down and reported to the police.
Technically I was casing the same street over and over again, in broad daylight (because the lovely sun is still out at 11 o'clock at night here – which really hinders my stalking abilities); so I guess I can see where the neighbors who were watching me may have been a little uneasy.
I suppose I should start at the beginning.
I have mentioned before that the ex has been facing some issues of his own this last year. I won’t get into them here because it isn’t my story to tell, but needless to say; as much as I would like for him to be there for me as I work through my life, I get that he has a life of his own to work through right now too.
I wish he was a little better at multi-tasking so he could do both, but you know... we can't always get what we want.
He called me last night, and honestly didn’t sound great. I went over to his house worried about him and we talked for a while. Not about anything of any real significance mind you (that would involve the ex actually opening up more than just a crack, which I’m not sure he is capable of), but just kind of checking in with where the other is at.
When I left, I still felt like there was more I wanted to say (and I know that must shock all you lovely readers, right?!? You would think I would eventually run out of words!) I just felt like there were things we hadn’t gotten into because he refused to go there, but that I personally needed to at least get out on the table.
And I needed him to know that I was here for him, but that I also kind of needed him to be there for me too.
So, I went home and thought about it for a while. Then I pulled out a card from my drawer (it’s possible that every time I go to a Hallmark store I end up walking out with a stack of cards… I may have a thing for “just because” sentiments) and I started writing. Nothing too long or involved, just a short note that basically put a little more on the line.
Then I sat and stared at the card for a while; trying to determine what I wanted to do with it. The man is not much of a reader, and there is a vague possibility he would only skim it if I gave it to him anyway. I wasn’t sure it was worth the effort.
But I realized that I needed to give it to him; if only for my own sanity. Regardless of what happens in this situation, I needed to know at the end of the day that I had said everything that needed to be said.
That he knew where I stood.
I went back to his house. By this point I knew he was asleep (the man works far earlier than I could ever manage), so I parked on the street and left my car running. I ran up to his work truck and put the card on his front seat where I knew he would find it in the morning while I was still tucked away in my bed.
His truck is always unlocked and I’ve known that since we were together, so I knew I would be able to leave it there. I still haven’t figured out the Alaskan mentality that says leave all things (even front doors) unlocked, but at least it gives me easy spots to leave cards!
I shut the door and walked back to my car as a neighbor was pulling up. He eyed me, because clearly I looked suspicious. I was wearing a sweatshirt and ball cap and was walking away from his neighbors work truck as I got into my still running getaway car.
Special.
I knew this guy was probably wondering if I had just slashed the ex’s tires.
I got in my car and tried to look sane, but at the last minute I looked back at the truck and realized his lights were now on. Irritated, I thought to myself that I must not have closed the door hard enough. So out of my car I got again as I walked up to the truck and slammed the door shut.
The neighbor was watching me the entire time.
The lights still didn’t go out, but for a brief moment I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, so I drove away from the scene of my… crime?
I got a few blocks away before I realized that waking up to a dead battery wouldn’t really go all that far in making the ex’s life better right now, and that he would probably kill me if that happened. So I turned around to check on the truck again… just hoping that the lights would have gone off automatically.
No such luck, and as I drove down the cul-de-sac for the third time in the same night (and of course it would be a cul-de-sac, where there is no easy way to do a quick drive-by), I cursed at the lights which were still on and the neighbor who was now staring me down.
Again I drove away.
And again, I panicked.
I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I have left the ex cards in his truck before, even back when we were together (like I said, I like cards!) And I had just been there hanging out with him for Pete’s sake! But still, for some reason I felt guilty. As though I had just done something very weird… and gotten caught.
I called up the only person I knew would answer at that hour; one of my best friends in San Diego.
Al picked up the phone groggily, and I launched into a diatribe about what a stalker I was and how I had broken the ex’s truck and the neighbors were going to call the cops on me.
I told you I was panicking!
I just kept swearing that all I had done was open that stupid door and shut it.
She started laughing at me, and ensured me I was not a stalker. Then she told me to drive back one more time and see if the light was off now.
So I did. With Al on the phone I drove down that stupid cul-de-sac for the 4th flipping time in the same night.
The lights were out, and the neighbor was gone.
Whew.
Once Al realized that the crisis had been adequately handled, she said “See! No big deal! And you’re not a stalker.”
To which I had to remind her “Are you kidding me? None of this would have ever happened if I weren’t a stalker. Why on earth did I have to bring him a card so late at night?”
She again laughed and said “Because that’s who you are. You leave people cards. It’s nice. And you are not a stalker. Now go to bed!”
At this point my nerves were still shot from the near incident and I shrieked back at her “OK, great. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Because I’m pulling into my garage right now. That’s right. Two seconds ago I was talking to you as I drove by his house, and now I am pulling into my garage that is just down the street. I bought a house that is less than a mile away from my ex boyfriends place.” I took a deep breath and shouted this last part:
“Am I a stalker NOW?!?”
Al efficiently calmed me down of course and reminded me that I bought my condo because it is also within walking distance of my work and is situated on a greenbelt right by a creek and lake that I love. She further pointed out that it was the only place I looked at that met all of the requirements I had wanted before I ever even started looking. She reminded me that I had actually been uncomfortable with the proximity when I first bought it, and that I was anxious people would think I was intentionally trying to buy something near to him. That that was actually the one negative mark against a condo that I otherwise loved.
And she's right. I even started shopping at a grocery store further away for a while because I didn't like the idea of us always running into each other.
Let’s not forget too, that everything in Anchorage is within 15 minutes of everything else; so there is that.
It turns out I may have been a little high strung in the heat of the moment, knowing full well that even if I had needed to wake him up to tell him I had done something to his truck and the light wouldn’t turn off, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal. He probably would have been annoyed, but in the end he would have just laughed at me. Because if nothing else, the man is at least used to my… intricacies (if you will) by now.
What can I say? I’m a neurotic girl.
Who is definitely NOT a stalker.
Technically I was casing the same street over and over again, in broad daylight (because the lovely sun is still out at 11 o'clock at night here – which really hinders my stalking abilities); so I guess I can see where the neighbors who were watching me may have been a little uneasy.
I suppose I should start at the beginning.
I have mentioned before that the ex has been facing some issues of his own this last year. I won’t get into them here because it isn’t my story to tell, but needless to say; as much as I would like for him to be there for me as I work through my life, I get that he has a life of his own to work through right now too.
I wish he was a little better at multi-tasking so he could do both, but you know... we can't always get what we want.
He called me last night, and honestly didn’t sound great. I went over to his house worried about him and we talked for a while. Not about anything of any real significance mind you (that would involve the ex actually opening up more than just a crack, which I’m not sure he is capable of), but just kind of checking in with where the other is at.
When I left, I still felt like there was more I wanted to say (and I know that must shock all you lovely readers, right?!? You would think I would eventually run out of words!) I just felt like there were things we hadn’t gotten into because he refused to go there, but that I personally needed to at least get out on the table.
And I needed him to know that I was here for him, but that I also kind of needed him to be there for me too.
So, I went home and thought about it for a while. Then I pulled out a card from my drawer (it’s possible that every time I go to a Hallmark store I end up walking out with a stack of cards… I may have a thing for “just because” sentiments) and I started writing. Nothing too long or involved, just a short note that basically put a little more on the line.
Then I sat and stared at the card for a while; trying to determine what I wanted to do with it. The man is not much of a reader, and there is a vague possibility he would only skim it if I gave it to him anyway. I wasn’t sure it was worth the effort.
But I realized that I needed to give it to him; if only for my own sanity. Regardless of what happens in this situation, I needed to know at the end of the day that I had said everything that needed to be said.
That he knew where I stood.
I went back to his house. By this point I knew he was asleep (the man works far earlier than I could ever manage), so I parked on the street and left my car running. I ran up to his work truck and put the card on his front seat where I knew he would find it in the morning while I was still tucked away in my bed.
His truck is always unlocked and I’ve known that since we were together, so I knew I would be able to leave it there. I still haven’t figured out the Alaskan mentality that says leave all things (even front doors) unlocked, but at least it gives me easy spots to leave cards!
I shut the door and walked back to my car as a neighbor was pulling up. He eyed me, because clearly I looked suspicious. I was wearing a sweatshirt and ball cap and was walking away from his neighbors work truck as I got into my still running getaway car.
Special.
I knew this guy was probably wondering if I had just slashed the ex’s tires.
I got in my car and tried to look sane, but at the last minute I looked back at the truck and realized his lights were now on. Irritated, I thought to myself that I must not have closed the door hard enough. So out of my car I got again as I walked up to the truck and slammed the door shut.
The neighbor was watching me the entire time.
The lights still didn’t go out, but for a brief moment I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, so I drove away from the scene of my… crime?
I got a few blocks away before I realized that waking up to a dead battery wouldn’t really go all that far in making the ex’s life better right now, and that he would probably kill me if that happened. So I turned around to check on the truck again… just hoping that the lights would have gone off automatically.
No such luck, and as I drove down the cul-de-sac for the third time in the same night (and of course it would be a cul-de-sac, where there is no easy way to do a quick drive-by), I cursed at the lights which were still on and the neighbor who was now staring me down.
Again I drove away.
And again, I panicked.
I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I have left the ex cards in his truck before, even back when we were together (like I said, I like cards!) And I had just been there hanging out with him for Pete’s sake! But still, for some reason I felt guilty. As though I had just done something very weird… and gotten caught.
I called up the only person I knew would answer at that hour; one of my best friends in San Diego.
Al picked up the phone groggily, and I launched into a diatribe about what a stalker I was and how I had broken the ex’s truck and the neighbors were going to call the cops on me.
I told you I was panicking!
I just kept swearing that all I had done was open that stupid door and shut it.
She started laughing at me, and ensured me I was not a stalker. Then she told me to drive back one more time and see if the light was off now.
So I did. With Al on the phone I drove down that stupid cul-de-sac for the 4th flipping time in the same night.
The lights were out, and the neighbor was gone.
Whew.
Once Al realized that the crisis had been adequately handled, she said “See! No big deal! And you’re not a stalker.”
To which I had to remind her “Are you kidding me? None of this would have ever happened if I weren’t a stalker. Why on earth did I have to bring him a card so late at night?”
She again laughed and said “Because that’s who you are. You leave people cards. It’s nice. And you are not a stalker. Now go to bed!”
At this point my nerves were still shot from the near incident and I shrieked back at her “OK, great. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Because I’m pulling into my garage right now. That’s right. Two seconds ago I was talking to you as I drove by his house, and now I am pulling into my garage that is just down the street. I bought a house that is less than a mile away from my ex boyfriends place.” I took a deep breath and shouted this last part:
“Am I a stalker NOW?!?”
Al efficiently calmed me down of course and reminded me that I bought my condo because it is also within walking distance of my work and is situated on a greenbelt right by a creek and lake that I love. She further pointed out that it was the only place I looked at that met all of the requirements I had wanted before I ever even started looking. She reminded me that I had actually been uncomfortable with the proximity when I first bought it, and that I was anxious people would think I was intentionally trying to buy something near to him. That that was actually the one negative mark against a condo that I otherwise loved.
And she's right. I even started shopping at a grocery store further away for a while because I didn't like the idea of us always running into each other.
Let’s not forget too, that everything in Anchorage is within 15 minutes of everything else; so there is that.
It turns out I may have been a little high strung in the heat of the moment, knowing full well that even if I had needed to wake him up to tell him I had done something to his truck and the light wouldn’t turn off, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal. He probably would have been annoyed, but in the end he would have just laughed at me. Because if nothing else, the man is at least used to my… intricacies (if you will) by now.
What can I say? I’m a neurotic girl.
Who is definitely NOT a stalker.
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