Click on the pic for the video and make sure you pause my blog music.
6/20/08
"The Boring Room of the World"
I was thinking about this SNL skit last night and how much I always loved seeing it. Oh and I didn't resemble Judy Miller at all ;) Not at all.
Click on the pic for the video and make sure you pause my blog music.
Click on the pic for the video and make sure you pause my blog music.
6/18/08
Tit for Tat
Since I can't seem to get knocked up I might as well do something I can't do while knocked up, right?
I've been thinking about getting another tat for years. Alex even got me a gift certificate for Christmas two years ago and I have yet to use it. I had wanted white stars for ever so long but now I'm vacillating between the stars on the inside of my wrist or another bird, this time with cherry blossoms (again in white) on my shoulder blade (I think).
Star design idea
Sparrow and cherry blossom design idea
Or maybe just a sparrow design
What do you all think?
I've been thinking about getting another tat for years. Alex even got me a gift certificate for Christmas two years ago and I have yet to use it. I had wanted white stars for ever so long but now I'm vacillating between the stars on the inside of my wrist or another bird, this time with cherry blossoms (again in white) on my shoulder blade (I think).
Star design idea
Sparrow and cherry blossom design idea
Or maybe just a sparrow design
What do you all think?
6/16/08
So I Have This Idea
I was looking through my old "blog", or journal, on Livejournal tonight and thinking it was a shame I won't have all of my blog entries in one place, especially the good ones. Would that just be crazy insane to back date all of them and include them in this blog?
Or I could have a "vintage" post of the week.
Decisions, decisions.
Or I could have a "vintage" post of the week.
Decisions, decisions.
6/15/08
"Bruises Fade but the Pain Remains the Same"
I can't sleep so I decided to brain dump, I need to right now...
So here it is, another Non-existent father's day. Do they make Hallmark cards for that? I do admit I've looked for "thank you mom for being everything cards".
This has always been one of my most, if not *the* most, dreaded days.
This is the day where countless children spend time with their daddies who hug them and kiss them and tell them they love them. I never was one of those children. I never had a real daddy. I feared my father, dreading having to spend time with him, never knowing if I would be lied to or hurt emotionally or physically.
I think back on how far I have come from the angry and afraid young girl to the woman I am today. No longer does my throat clench when I talk about him, no longer does the anger course through my veins. The hurt, though lessened, is still there. The tears still manage to sneak out from time to time.
I do wish it would go away, that he wouldn't affect me anymore but that is a tall task. It's there, just under the surface, lurking in the shadows.
It'll show during therapy, most especially when I was hypnotized several years back (Hello, I never want to "live" through being 6 again!).
It'll show through at weddings during father/daughter dances where I will clear a room as if it was on fire, though never fast enough to stop the tears from flowing.
It'll show when I see a daddy with his little girl, being gentle and sweet with her.
It shows through when Alex and Bethia joke around and share a moment just for them. I get jealous because once again I feel left out.
In 2005 my "father" contacted me. He found my email through a web search and wrote:
For the first time in my life I really stood up to him. I wrote back everything I had been meaning to say for years, being very careful to not bring my mother and what he had done to her into the equation.
He of course denied it all. He wrote back saying my mother was a liar and had made all of it up, that me hearing that he had done all those awful things over and over, made me believe it actually happened. In his mind he wasn't involved in these things and I was too young to actually have accurate memories of them.
But he was involved and I do remember. I remember being hit, I remember being stuck in the corner for hours at age four, I remember my mother crying after being beaten and seeing her being raped in front of me. I remember all the emotional damage that was done, from my teddy bear that I need to go to sleep being hid on top of the refrigerator where a toddler couldn't find it, to being promised a computer if I got on the honor roll in high school and getting an empty computer box, as a joke, instead. He thought it was hilarious while I just cried.
So today is the day I mourn what I lack. I mourn what I should have had. I mourn what could have made me a stronger person, a better person, what could have made me whole. Today I mourn my daddy.
*Pause my blog music to hear a song that really touches me*
Christina Aguilera- I'm Ok
So here it is, another Non-existent father's day. Do they make Hallmark cards for that? I do admit I've looked for "thank you mom for being everything cards".
This has always been one of my most, if not *the* most, dreaded days.
This is the day where countless children spend time with their daddies who hug them and kiss them and tell them they love them. I never was one of those children. I never had a real daddy. I feared my father, dreading having to spend time with him, never knowing if I would be lied to or hurt emotionally or physically.
I think back on how far I have come from the angry and afraid young girl to the woman I am today. No longer does my throat clench when I talk about him, no longer does the anger course through my veins. The hurt, though lessened, is still there. The tears still manage to sneak out from time to time.
I do wish it would go away, that he wouldn't affect me anymore but that is a tall task. It's there, just under the surface, lurking in the shadows.
It'll show during therapy, most especially when I was hypnotized several years back (Hello, I never want to "live" through being 6 again!).
It'll show through at weddings during father/daughter dances where I will clear a room as if it was on fire, though never fast enough to stop the tears from flowing.
It'll show when I see a daddy with his little girl, being gentle and sweet with her.
It shows through when Alex and Bethia joke around and share a moment just for them. I get jealous because once again I feel left out.
In 2005 my "father" contacted me. He found my email through a web search and wrote:
found you on the internet- what a great site! Hope you are well and happy - As an adult put aside the past - We have all made mistakes - if you want no
further communications, in your answer just say NO. Daddy
For the first time in my life I really stood up to him. I wrote back everything I had been meaning to say for years, being very careful to not bring my mother and what he had done to her into the equation.
I don't even know where to begin this letter. It has been long coming, yet I have put it off each time, out of fear, out of wanting to forget it all, out of wanting to move past the past. I am angry but mostly I am hurt. I hurt for the life I had and the loss of what I should have had. Most importantly I am not afraid anymore.
Previous messages from you as well as the current have stated that I need to "as an adult put aside the past". I have had my past haunt me for many, many years. I am finally at the point where I can talk about it without crying, without feeling my throat clench up in anger. You also said in the email that "we all have made mistakes". I can't imagine what mistakes a little girl could have possibly made, what I ever could have done to deserve what happened to me.
I asked you once why, on my 8th birthday, I was chastised in front of my friends and then forced to sit at the table while those friends were told to eat my ice cream. It was my birthday and not only did I have to endure being screamed at in public, I was to sit there and watch them eat their ice cream as well as my own. It was the first time I dared ask you about any childhood incident. You replied that I must have done something wrong. This statement is utterly ridiculous. I was a great kid, I didn't talk back, I obeyed. It took me a long time to realize I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't do anything to deserve being burnt with boiling water, being whipped with a belt, having my favorite toy being hid as I cried, experiencing countless lies and broken promises, etc etc. It wasn't ME, it NEVER WAS.
I understand now what you went through as a child. I know what kind of life you had. It was awful and you didn't deserve it. But neither did I. You had NO right to do what you did to me, nor what you did to my mother who was too weak to do anything about it. You, as a parent, should have stopped that cycle of abuse. It was up to you to do so. I know what it's like but I also know it can be done, for you have passed on your blinding anger to me. I, in turn, have broken the cycle. I acknowledge my fury and I have worked through it. I know what damage I sustained at the hand and voice of an abusive parent and I WILL NOT pass that on to any child of my own. You may say that I'm a crazy bitch or whatever and feel I am wronging you by what I have said but I know denial can run deep and I know what scars I have. Deep emotional scars.
I remember you saying when I was about 7 or so, when you didn't know I was listening, that you didn't want me, that you didn't care what happened to me. All I wanted in life was a father who loved me more than anything else. I still wish I had that every day of my life. And the sad thing is I know you probably will never realize how much I hurt. Of course I always have hope that you will understand what you did was wrong and feel badly. However, I don't expect there to be an apology and the hurt will probably never go away.
To end I'd like to share with you some pictures I have saved on my computer. One is a picture of you and me as a baby. Another is of me at around age four. I look upon these old pictures and I think of how our lives should have been and of how much that little girl needed a Daddy. I did love you and I just wanted you to love me.
Jennifer
He of course denied it all. He wrote back saying my mother was a liar and had made all of it up, that me hearing that he had done all those awful things over and over, made me believe it actually happened. In his mind he wasn't involved in these things and I was too young to actually have accurate memories of them.
But he was involved and I do remember. I remember being hit, I remember being stuck in the corner for hours at age four, I remember my mother crying after being beaten and seeing her being raped in front of me. I remember all the emotional damage that was done, from my teddy bear that I need to go to sleep being hid on top of the refrigerator where a toddler couldn't find it, to being promised a computer if I got on the honor roll in high school and getting an empty computer box, as a joke, instead. He thought it was hilarious while I just cried.
So today is the day I mourn what I lack. I mourn what I should have had. I mourn what could have made me a stronger person, a better person, what could have made me whole. Today I mourn my daddy.
*Pause my blog music to hear a song that really touches me*
6/14/08
I've Been Tagged
From JackiTiger's blog...
These things are always difficult for me. Can I really sum up my life in 6 words? It's quite the challenge. After thinking about it for a while I came up with an Emily Dickinson quote which seems to summarize much of my life and currently the bane of my existence.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Hope is something that I think I've had my whole life in one way or another. I started out on the hopes of others. I wasn't supposed to make it, I wasn't expected to last the day but as my mother and family hoped I would, I made it.
As a child I hoped my life would get better, that I'd find a peace in my world and someone to love me. Abuse has a way of stealing hope but I came out on the other side stronger than I could have imagined, and just...a little bit broken.
As a teenager, I hoped I would come into myself, that my eccentricities would be valued, that my looks be appreciated. I hoped that my self confidence would blossom. Through theatre it did. With adulthood, I learned to love me, well most of the time.
I had hope through relationships and hardships that I would make it through, that I would succeed. I've accomplished both at least a little bit.
That hope is now squarely focused on being a mom. There is nothing I hope for more than having a baby. Whether that hope is realized remains to be seen but I'll try to keep the hope alive, I will indeed try.
So my meme is: Hope is the thing with feathers
I will now tag:
MayT
Adkins
Mandybr
T-Bird
AlpacaBunny
"The Meme originated over an idea that was prompted by the book written by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser, Not Quite What I was planning: Six Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure. It's a compilation based on the story that Hemingway once bet $10 that he could sum up his life in six words. His were- "For Sale: baby shoes, never worn."
These things are always difficult for me. Can I really sum up my life in 6 words? It's quite the challenge. After thinking about it for a while I came up with an Emily Dickinson quote which seems to summarize much of my life and currently the bane of my existence.
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Hope is something that I think I've had my whole life in one way or another. I started out on the hopes of others. I wasn't supposed to make it, I wasn't expected to last the day but as my mother and family hoped I would, I made it.
As a child I hoped my life would get better, that I'd find a peace in my world and someone to love me. Abuse has a way of stealing hope but I came out on the other side stronger than I could have imagined, and just...a little bit broken.
As a teenager, I hoped I would come into myself, that my eccentricities would be valued, that my looks be appreciated. I hoped that my self confidence would blossom. Through theatre it did. With adulthood, I learned to love me, well most of the time.
I had hope through relationships and hardships that I would make it through, that I would succeed. I've accomplished both at least a little bit.
That hope is now squarely focused on being a mom. There is nothing I hope for more than having a baby. Whether that hope is realized remains to be seen but I'll try to keep the hope alive, I will indeed try.
So my meme is: Hope is the thing with feathers
I will now tag:
MayT
Adkins
Mandybr
T-Bird
AlpacaBunny
"He's O3"
Last night was so fun. I don't think I've laughed that hard in ever so long. It's always amazing meeting friends from the internet for the first time. My MOH was one, my DH another. You build up such a bond online that when you meet in person for the first time it's as if you've known each other for years. It was certainly like that when I met Megan last night.
After hanging out at my house for an hour we decided to go to The Crown and Anchor, a local pub, for dinner. Eating was kind of difficult since we were talking so much.
One thing you have to have while at the Crown is their Sticky Toffee Pudding. OMG I have to get it every time. It is sex in a dish, I'm not even kidding.
I was laughing so hard when May took the "shocker" picture (yes she loved the Sticky Toffee too) I almost peed my pants.
How can you not like a place when they have coasters from British pubs with such fantabulous names?
That went into my purse.
Next we moved on to The Brit (Britannia Arms) which used to be my stomping grounds before it was infiltrated with douches and whores. We had barely sat down and some Navy dude started trying to hit on us. Never mind our rings were in full view of his face. He gave us a beer (what? one?) but ended up leaving after our Irish Car Bombs arrived.
May: "Oooh our 'real' beers are here."
We made him take pictures of us.
Maybe he didn't like our faces. LOL Notice the flashing rings.
The carnage of the car bombs with our "gifted beer"
At this point the silliness just continued. We realized that the contents of our purses could supply a Walgreen's. So what are two girls to do but set up a picture. Did the people in the bar think we were crazy? Most likely.
The Cock Inn coaster had to be included, because have cock will travel.
As further proof that May's pineapple leather is utterly disgusting...
Original Grossness
It really is *that* bad. I actually gagged. The things we do to get knocked up.
The people watching was top notch with all the drunk ass people around. The Navy dude ended up hitting on some young thing and watching them was comedy gold. If only I was able to get a pic of him dancing when his ass fell out of his jeans. Priceless. As he walked by us before we left we each gave him a knuckle bump(which we had seen his buddy do to him when he "scored" a dance with the young thing). This caused the chick to come up to us and pissily say, "He's O3."
Huh? WTF? May then said that it had to be his military ranking. Ok, so he's an officer. Most of them around here are. OOoooh big fucking deal. I just laughed at the chick because, hello, we're married. we don't give a rat's ass what this drunk dude's ranking is. Blech. Besides this is Monterey. Monterey is crawling with Military dudes and they are all the same to me.
All in all it was a kick ass evening. I had so much freaking fun and Megan is a hottie and a sweetheart. Hopefully it will be just the first of other good times. We are already planning on a west coast mermaid shoot.
We did miss "our girls" and wished you all could have been there. You all got to have some of the Navy dude's beer though, so have no fear.
6/12/08
Sometimes I Cry Happy Tears
One day left, just one day.
Today I had a great start of my day. One of the 6th grade girls brought me this little "book" they had made me with letters from most of the 6th graders. Some of these letters made me cry and were a reminder of why I keep this, sometimes God forsaken, job in the first place. I'd like to share some of their letters to remind all of us teachers out there why we do it.
(As a side note, I was these kids 2nd grade teacher, 5th grade teacher, and also taught them religion in 6th.)
I can't even tell you how much I love those kids. They have always been my reminder. I can't believe that they will be 7th graders next year, almost ready to move on to the next phase of their lives.
Today I had a great start of my day. One of the 6th grade girls brought me this little "book" they had made me with letters from most of the 6th graders. Some of these letters made me cry and were a reminder of why I keep this, sometimes God forsaken, job in the first place. I'd like to share some of their letters to remind all of us teachers out there why we do it.
(As a side note, I was these kids 2nd grade teacher, 5th grade teacher, and also taught them religion in 6th.)
3 Years With Mrs. Jennifer
Dear Mrs. Jennifer,
You are an awesome teacher! I will miss being in your class very much. You taught us that even when times are rough they will always turn out okay. You inspired me to follow my dream and to not let anyone stand in my way. You are the nicest, kindest person I have ever met and you are deffinetly my role model. Have a great summer!
Love, Kendra
Dear Mrs. Jennifer,
Thank you for caring and listening to me when I had a question. You are the most caring teacher I have ever had at this school. I've enjoyed beng your student.
Love, Jack.
Dear Mrs. Jennifer,
I'll miss you a lot. You were my favorite teacher. Also you were understandingly cool!
From, Dan (yo!)
Dear Mrs. Jennifer,
You have and always will be my most favorite teacher. My favorite teacher used to be the teacher that I had every year. If I was in K. it was Mrs. Todd. When I was in 1st grade we had Mrs. Flagg, but when I got to 2nd grade everything changed. You are my favorite because 1) Rubber duckies are your favorite and rubber duckies ROCK! 2)You are just awesome & cool 3) You are nice 4) You are YOU! I'll miss you over the summer! See you next year.
Love, Lizzie
Dear Mrs. Jennifer,
I loved you as my teacher. You are so nice. You are my friend. You also told us a lot of stuff.
Tyler
Dear Mrs. Jennifer,
You were the best teacher I've ever had & I can say that for a lot of reasons.
One, you are the first teacher who has ever let us use your first name after "Mrs".
Another thing, you're really easy to be around & confide in & our class discussions are really fun. Even though by the time you let us really talk there is nothing left to say :)
And...well I could go on & on but you're (just to sum it up) a really great teacher.
So that's why I put this book together. So that some day, even when we are all gone, you can remember us. But we'll always remember you. :)
I guess you caould call this instead of a yearbook, a 3 yearbook. For the three years some people have been with you.
You've taught us a lot of things over 3, 2, or 1 years. Some school education & others not & we all will really appreciate it.
Love, Kim
I can't even tell you how much I love those kids. They have always been my reminder. I can't believe that they will be 7th graders next year, almost ready to move on to the next phase of their lives.
6/11/08
Are You Going to Leave the House Looking Like That?
A tiara? Really? No really, seriously?
Tonight, graduation was too much. Apparently, merely looking like skanks in slutty dresses and prom hair was too boring for the 8th grade girls. Oh no, this year's class had to up the ante. This year, two girls wore tiaras. Oh yes, tiaras.
The last couple of years we've witnessed the downfall of modern feminine society (and lack of proper parenting) at our school. Parents have been actually allowing their daughters to wear some of the skimpiest dresses imaginable. Keep in mind they are 13/14 years old AND attending a Catholic school. Uh yeah.
As one of my coworkers said, "(name not included to protect the trashy) looked like a streetwalker. In fact, I think I saw someone just like her on Cops last week".
Now you might think we are too harsh and judgemental but au contraire mon frere, we are talking dresses like this:
Why on earth would mothers purchase these dresses for their daughters? Why would fathers allow their daughters to set foot out of the house looking like this? Do they just not care? Do they actually think it looks flattering or gives off a good impression? Do they just want to give in so they don't have to hear their girls whine about how everyone else gets to have a hoochie dress and have their hair in a updo complete with glitter spray and butterfly crystal clips? Why must we sexualize our girls so early?
They are freaking 8th graders! I didn't even wear that crap when I graduated from high school.
Listen up mothers of America, stop living vicariously through your daughters!
And hang up the tiaras while you are at it.
Tonight, graduation was too much. Apparently, merely looking like skanks in slutty dresses and prom hair was too boring for the 8th grade girls. Oh no, this year's class had to up the ante. This year, two girls wore tiaras. Oh yes, tiaras.
The last couple of years we've witnessed the downfall of modern feminine society (and lack of proper parenting) at our school. Parents have been actually allowing their daughters to wear some of the skimpiest dresses imaginable. Keep in mind they are 13/14 years old AND attending a Catholic school. Uh yeah.
As one of my coworkers said, "(name not included to protect the trashy) looked like a streetwalker. In fact, I think I saw someone just like her on Cops last week".
Now you might think we are too harsh and judgemental but au contraire mon frere, we are talking dresses like this:
Why on earth would mothers purchase these dresses for their daughters? Why would fathers allow their daughters to set foot out of the house looking like this? Do they just not care? Do they actually think it looks flattering or gives off a good impression? Do they just want to give in so they don't have to hear their girls whine about how everyone else gets to have a hoochie dress and have their hair in a updo complete with glitter spray and butterfly crystal clips? Why must we sexualize our girls so early?
They are freaking 8th graders! I didn't even wear that crap when I graduated from high school.
Listen up mothers of America, stop living vicariously through your daughters!
And hang up the tiaras while you are at it.
6/10/08
"Look at Me, Look at Me, Look at Me"
The following post was composed while commuting home on the bus. It has nothing to do with babies...imagine that.
I am a fairly extroverted person. I like hanging out with people and like spending time talking to people. We were discussing this in therapy last week because, while I need people, my DH really doesn't. At least he doesn't need people like I do.
Our therapist feels we both have trust issues and that it causes my DH to not reach out to people. So what's the deal with me? I had a horrific childhood and yet I still yearn for human companionship. DH had a great childhood and he's the opposite. He doesn't want to be noticed and I do.
A few weeks ago, after a matinee, my actor friend James(see above), who played opposite me in Plaza Suite, and I were discussing theatre (as we narcissistic actors are want to do)and came across a possible childhood treatment/future actor connection.
James told me about how he was teased horribly as a boy as was I (How could I not know this after being friends with the man for 16 years?). So why would these berated children become extroverts? Why would we want to be looked at so much? Exactly for that reason I suppose. We want to be paid attention to, to be noted, to be appreciated. We were left behind and ignored or ridiculed as kids and now we are praised and admired (hopefully). We force people to stare at us for two hours or more, demand the attention we are owed.
-Whoa I totally sound like a Sondheim musical there or a Miller play, "Attention must be paid!"
Anyway, it was a light bulb moment for both of us and something I've never really thought about. All I ever knew is that theatre saved me. It pulled me from a dark pit of despair.
On stage I feel alive and free. On stage I am the true Jennifer and man, she's kick ass. I wish I could be her all the time.
I suppose that's another therapy session.
I am a fairly extroverted person. I like hanging out with people and like spending time talking to people. We were discussing this in therapy last week because, while I need people, my DH really doesn't. At least he doesn't need people like I do.
Our therapist feels we both have trust issues and that it causes my DH to not reach out to people. So what's the deal with me? I had a horrific childhood and yet I still yearn for human companionship. DH had a great childhood and he's the opposite. He doesn't want to be noticed and I do.
A few weeks ago, after a matinee, my actor friend James(see above), who played opposite me in Plaza Suite, and I were discussing theatre (as we narcissistic actors are want to do)and came across a possible childhood treatment/future actor connection.
James told me about how he was teased horribly as a boy as was I (How could I not know this after being friends with the man for 16 years?). So why would these berated children become extroverts? Why would we want to be looked at so much? Exactly for that reason I suppose. We want to be paid attention to, to be noted, to be appreciated. We were left behind and ignored or ridiculed as kids and now we are praised and admired (hopefully). We force people to stare at us for two hours or more, demand the attention we are owed.
-Whoa I totally sound like a Sondheim musical there or a Miller play, "Attention must be paid!"
Anyway, it was a light bulb moment for both of us and something I've never really thought about. All I ever knew is that theatre saved me. It pulled me from a dark pit of despair.
On stage I feel alive and free. On stage I am the true Jennifer and man, she's kick ass. I wish I could be her all the time.
I suppose that's another therapy session.
Dustin Hoffman on why he acts:
Well, one day as I was working with Lawrence Olivier, I asked him that question. Why do we do this?? And he replied many times, Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! I got goose bumps. But that's true, it's all about being somewhat the center of attention, this is why I love doing interviews, meeting people. Look at me.
WTF Moment of the Week
This was pulled off of two of the Nest boards this evening.
Now I know this most likely is MUD (made up drama)but it doesn't make it any less hurtful, especially considering I've seen shite like this before and that there are people who really do think like this. It makes me sick.
As my mother says, If God didn't mean for IF people to have babies he wouldn't have had IVF even thought of or created. The embryos wouldn't even be created or survive. Way to go Mom.
Natural=Spontaneous, Fertility treatments=Manmade!
From: Mr.F
Date: 6/10/2008 at 7:53 PMThis irks me to no end!~
Hello, if you and DH DTD and you conceived ( either a singleton or multiples ) it is a NATURALLY occuring pregnancy!!!
If, DH had to give his contribution in a cup to be *placed* by a 3rd party into your body, or in some cases, have his swimmers meet your eggie in a lab of all places IT IS MAN MADE! NOT A NATURAL PREGNANCY!!
I am VERY fertile!!!! Why can I not claim my ability to reproduce NATURALLY ( insert penis into vagina here ladies ) and claim that my multiples were made the old fashioned way!!!!
Broken, scorned women........maybe God never wanted you or your b roken DH's to carry on any lineage
Now I know this most likely is MUD (made up drama)but it doesn't make it any less hurtful, especially considering I've seen shite like this before and that there are people who really do think like this. It makes me sick.
As my mother says, If God didn't mean for IF people to have babies he wouldn't have had IVF even thought of or created. The embryos wouldn't even be created or survive. Way to go Mom.
6/9/08
"Who Against Hope Believed in Hope"
Hope is a double-edged sword. On one hand I want to have hope, and on the the other I wish it to be gone because, with hope, comes disappointment and heartache. This past cycle hope found me again and then left me battered, bruised, and literally bleeding at the end of it. Once again no baby for me, no hope, no real chance.
It was then that I thought of a song from my childhood.
I received my copy of Glory and Praise I got off of Ebay, today and wanted to share the first two verses of the song I sang at my First Communion. I've always loved it, but it has come to mean so much more for me now, especially as I deal with the pain of IF.
It is a religious song (actually taken from some words found written on a wall at Auschwitz) though I think it could have some meaning for many people.
I Believe in the Sun
I believe in the sun, even when it isn't shining.
I believe in love, even when there's no one there.
And I believe in God, I believe in God,
Even when he is silent.
I believe in miracles, I believe in light.
I believe there can always be a way.
I believe that nothing is impossible, I believe that nothing is impossible.
That all things are possible with God.
6/8/08
Joining the Blogosphere
I've blogged on Live Journal and MySpace for years but finally decided (while being alone and bored out of my mind at home) to actually start a true blog. So, here I am. It's all up in the air from here.
5/22/08
IF Truths
One of the lovely ladies on my home message board on the Nest posted the following letter. I love it and it is so dang true. Just for shits and giggles, the underlined ones are similar to things people have actually said to me (IF version of course).
1. As soon as you buy a wheelchair, I bet you'll be able to walk again!
2. You can't use your legs? Boy, I wish I was paralyzed. I get so tired of walking, and if I were paralyzed I wouldn't have to walk anywhere!
3. My cousin was paralyzed but she started shaving her legs in the other direction and she could walk again. You should try that.
4. I guess God just didn't mean for you to be able to walk.
5. Oh, I know exactly how you feel, because I have an ingrown toenail.
6. Sorry, we don't cover treatment for paraplegia, because it's not a life-threatening illness.
7. So... when are *you* going to start walking?
8. Oh, I have just the opposite problem. I have to walk walk walk - everywhere I go!
9. But don't you *want* to walk?
10. You're just trying too hard. Relax and you'll be able to walk.
11. You're so lucky... think of the money you save on shoes.
12. I don't know why you're being so selfish. You should at least be happy that *I* can walk.
13. I hope you don't try those anti-paralysis drugs. They sometimes make people run too fast and they get hurt.
14. Look at those people hiking... doesn't that make you want to hike?
15. Just relax, you'll be walking in no time.
16. Oh do my legs hurt, I was walking and walking and going up and down the stairs all day.
17. I broke my leg skiing, and was on crutches for weeks, and was worried I'd have a permanent limp, but I'm 100% healed.
18. I'd ask you to be in my wedding party but the wheelchair will look out of place at the altar.
19. You're being selfish, not coming on the hike with us, and looking at all of my track & field trophies.
20. Don't complain, you get all the good parking places.
21. If you just lose weight your legs will work again.
22. If you would just have more sex, you could walk!
23. You don't know how to walk? What's wrong with you? Here let a real man show you how to walk!
24. You are just trying too hard to walk. Give up, and then you'll walk.
25. Here, touch my legs, then you'll walk!
26. Just take a vacation, and the stress-break will be sure to get you walking!
27. When *we* were young we only had to worry about having to walk too much.
28. And I bet a paraplegic going to a bookstore doesn't find books about paralysis stacked next to all the books on running...
So here's a little hint. If someone you know tells you that she's trying to get pregnant and it's taking longer than expected, DON'T tell her to just relax. Don't tell her to adopt and then surely she'll get pregnant with her own child. Don't tell her that God has a plan for her. Don't say, "At least it's fun trying!" Scheduling sex with the person you love isn't fun. Getting vaginal ultrasounds every other day and intramuscular injections in your ass twice a day isn't fun. Finding out every single month that - yet again - it didn't work this month either is Just. Not. Fun. DO tell her that you're sorry she's going through such pain/grief/frustration. Do tell her that you're glad she told you.
Do tell her that, even if you don't bring it up (because you want to respect her privacy and understand that she might not feel like talking about it sometimes), that you're there for her if she ever wants to talk or vent.
And DON'T feel that because she told you that it's okay for you to tell your other friends, children, co-workers, neighbors, cousins, mailman, whomever - unless she tells you that it's okay to do so. Your need to share news pales in comparison to her need to maintain a shred of privacy and dignity.
So, what do you think people would say to you if you were paraplegic instead of infertile?
(author unknown)
1. As soon as you buy a wheelchair, I bet you'll be able to walk again!
2. You can't use your legs? Boy, I wish I was paralyzed. I get so tired of walking, and if I were paralyzed I wouldn't have to walk anywhere!
3. My cousin was paralyzed but she started shaving her legs in the other direction and she could walk again. You should try that.
4. I guess God just didn't mean for you to be able to walk.
5. Oh, I know exactly how you feel, because I have an ingrown toenail.
6. Sorry, we don't cover treatment for paraplegia, because it's not a life-threatening illness.
7. So... when are *you* going to start walking?
8. Oh, I have just the opposite problem. I have to walk walk walk - everywhere I go!
9. But don't you *want* to walk?
10. You're just trying too hard. Relax and you'll be able to walk.
11. You're so lucky... think of the money you save on shoes.
12. I don't know why you're being so selfish. You should at least be happy that *I* can walk.
13. I hope you don't try those anti-paralysis drugs. They sometimes make people run too fast and they get hurt.
14. Look at those people hiking... doesn't that make you want to hike?
15. Just relax, you'll be walking in no time.
16. Oh do my legs hurt, I was walking and walking and going up and down the stairs all day.
17. I broke my leg skiing, and was on crutches for weeks, and was worried I'd have a permanent limp, but I'm 100% healed.
18. I'd ask you to be in my wedding party but the wheelchair will look out of place at the altar.
19. You're being selfish, not coming on the hike with us, and looking at all of my track & field trophies.
20. Don't complain, you get all the good parking places.
21. If you just lose weight your legs will work again.
22. If you would just have more sex, you could walk!
23. You don't know how to walk? What's wrong with you? Here let a real man show you how to walk!
24. You are just trying too hard to walk. Give up, and then you'll walk.
25. Here, touch my legs, then you'll walk!
26. Just take a vacation, and the stress-break will be sure to get you walking!
27. When *we* were young we only had to worry about having to walk too much.
28. And I bet a paraplegic going to a bookstore doesn't find books about paralysis stacked next to all the books on running...
So here's a little hint. If someone you know tells you that she's trying to get pregnant and it's taking longer than expected, DON'T tell her to just relax. Don't tell her to adopt and then surely she'll get pregnant with her own child. Don't tell her that God has a plan for her. Don't say, "At least it's fun trying!" Scheduling sex with the person you love isn't fun. Getting vaginal ultrasounds every other day and intramuscular injections in your ass twice a day isn't fun. Finding out every single month that - yet again - it didn't work this month either is Just. Not. Fun. DO tell her that you're sorry she's going through such pain/grief/frustration. Do tell her that you're glad she told you.
Do tell her that, even if you don't bring it up (because you want to respect her privacy and understand that she might not feel like talking about it sometimes), that you're there for her if she ever wants to talk or vent.
And DON'T feel that because she told you that it's okay for you to tell your other friends, children, co-workers, neighbors, cousins, mailman, whomever - unless she tells you that it's okay to do so. Your need to share news pales in comparison to her need to maintain a shred of privacy and dignity.
5/17/08
Plaza Suite Review
MPC Theatre Co. delivers highly entertaining 'Plaza Suite'
By NATHALIE PLOTKIN
Herald Correspondent
Article Last Updated: 05/15/2008 01:51:27 AM PDT
The MPC Theatre Company's brilliantly acted and directed side-splitting realization of Neil Simon's "Plaza Suite," which uses its setting to tie together three widely disparate yet highly comedic human relationships, makes for a delightful theatrical experience.
Love, marriage, honesty, maturity, sex — you name it — are all familiar themes present in a script which is highly entertaining.
Director De Bono had a sterling cast to work with. The sheer professionalism of his actors shone through at all times, no matter what situation they had to bring to life, and their wit and humor twinkled and brought out the available material to excellent effect.
Actually, "Plaza Suite" consists of three one-act plays which are complete entities, but which occupy the same space.
Room 719 as such, is only important in the opening act. Teresa Del Piero has reserved it in order to spend the night where she and her husband spent their honeymoon. However, 23 years later, the bloom of their marriage has disappeared.
Del Piero's role is written so that she apparently lives in a state of confusion as to dates, ages and numbers in general.
She has to overcome the perversities of the role the author has created in order to evoke sympathy for herself.
She is a very polished actress who inhabits a difficult and sometimes frustrating part and does it with charm and an underlying strength.
As the no-longer-loving husband, James Brady ably projects self-centered vanity and selfishness as he demonstrates his withdrawal from his marriage.
Room 719 means nothing to him since he has found another romantic interest and coldly acts accordingly.
In Act 2, Brady is cast as a successful Hollywood director in New York on business and who looks up his high school sweetheart of 17 years ago, hoping for a little afternoon dalliance. He neatly plays down and restrains his wolfishness, but his egotism comes through.
When Jennifer Muniz, married and the mother of three, arrives, she is apparently unsophisticated and shows an almost childish awareness of his stature and success. She reads all the fan magazines and knows every detail of his activities.
Brady is a smooth seducer and Muniz is an amusingly tipsy and willing victim. Together they go through all the motions leading to a final stage blackout in the bedroom.
But then comes Act 3, where the author goes all out in a splendidly human and unbridled, hilarious climax to the occupancy of room 719.
Even though the humor was prominent in the first two acts, here it is nonstop and borders on slapstick comedy.
The parents of a bride who has gotten cold feet just minutes before her very elaborate and expensive wedding and locked herself in the bathroom, are magnificently personified by Denise Guarnery and Gary Bolen.
They totally engage attention as they colorfully and humanly vent their frustrations and anger at the moment of truth.
Guarnery, as the mother who tries to be sweet and sensible while trying to convince the bride to come out, and Bolen, vacillating between the heavy father counting costs and then physically to reach the recalcitant bride, are marvels of pitch-perfect timing and their physical activity is totally hilarious.
Actually, this act alone would be worth the price of a ticket, but there is much to commend in the first two acts of what turns out to be a somewhat uneven vehicle.
Laugh-provoking one-liners are present throughout each act and point out with typical Simon humor the human elements of each story.
The supporting cast is as polished and professional as the major players.
Taylor Thorngate appears as a manhunting secretary and again as the reluctant bride. Brady Shilstone is an understanding bell hop and later is the masterful bridegroom. Jeromy Rutter is a sympathetic waiter. All do very well.
Nicole Bryant Stephens' design for Room 719 is handsome and the view of lit up skyscrapers is a clever and impressive detail.
Gloria Mattos Hughes' costumes are very appropriate, particularly in the third act. The bride is beautiful.
So, take a trip to the Plaza Hotel, Suite 719 and relax, laugh and enjoy the show. GO!
By NATHALIE PLOTKIN
Herald Correspondent
Article Last Updated: 05/15/2008 01:51:27 AM PDT
The MPC Theatre Company's brilliantly acted and directed side-splitting realization of Neil Simon's "Plaza Suite," which uses its setting to tie together three widely disparate yet highly comedic human relationships, makes for a delightful theatrical experience.
Love, marriage, honesty, maturity, sex — you name it — are all familiar themes present in a script which is highly entertaining.
Director De Bono had a sterling cast to work with. The sheer professionalism of his actors shone through at all times, no matter what situation they had to bring to life, and their wit and humor twinkled and brought out the available material to excellent effect.
Actually, "Plaza Suite" consists of three one-act plays which are complete entities, but which occupy the same space.
Room 719 as such, is only important in the opening act. Teresa Del Piero has reserved it in order to spend the night where she and her husband spent their honeymoon. However, 23 years later, the bloom of their marriage has disappeared.
Del Piero's role is written so that she apparently lives in a state of confusion as to dates, ages and numbers in general.
She has to overcome the perversities of the role the author has created in order to evoke sympathy for herself.
She is a very polished actress who inhabits a difficult and sometimes frustrating part and does it with charm and an underlying strength.
As the no-longer-loving husband, James Brady ably projects self-centered vanity and selfishness as he demonstrates his withdrawal from his marriage.
Room 719 means nothing to him since he has found another romantic interest and coldly acts accordingly.
In Act 2, Brady is cast as a successful Hollywood director in New York on business and who looks up his high school sweetheart of 17 years ago, hoping for a little afternoon dalliance. He neatly plays down and restrains his wolfishness, but his egotism comes through.
When Jennifer Muniz, married and the mother of three, arrives, she is apparently unsophisticated and shows an almost childish awareness of his stature and success. She reads all the fan magazines and knows every detail of his activities.
Brady is a smooth seducer and Muniz is an amusingly tipsy and willing victim. Together they go through all the motions leading to a final stage blackout in the bedroom.
But then comes Act 3, where the author goes all out in a splendidly human and unbridled, hilarious climax to the occupancy of room 719.
Even though the humor was prominent in the first two acts, here it is nonstop and borders on slapstick comedy.
The parents of a bride who has gotten cold feet just minutes before her very elaborate and expensive wedding and locked herself in the bathroom, are magnificently personified by Denise Guarnery and Gary Bolen.
They totally engage attention as they colorfully and humanly vent their frustrations and anger at the moment of truth.
Guarnery, as the mother who tries to be sweet and sensible while trying to convince the bride to come out, and Bolen, vacillating between the heavy father counting costs and then physically to reach the recalcitant bride, are marvels of pitch-perfect timing and their physical activity is totally hilarious.
Actually, this act alone would be worth the price of a ticket, but there is much to commend in the first two acts of what turns out to be a somewhat uneven vehicle.
Laugh-provoking one-liners are present throughout each act and point out with typical Simon humor the human elements of each story.
The supporting cast is as polished and professional as the major players.
Taylor Thorngate appears as a manhunting secretary and again as the reluctant bride. Brady Shilstone is an understanding bell hop and later is the masterful bridegroom. Jeromy Rutter is a sympathetic waiter. All do very well.
Nicole Bryant Stephens' design for Room 719 is handsome and the view of lit up skyscrapers is a clever and impressive detail.
Gloria Mattos Hughes' costumes are very appropriate, particularly in the third act. The bride is beautiful.
So, take a trip to the Plaza Hotel, Suite 719 and relax, laugh and enjoy the show. GO!
2/13/08
No Chance of Hope
Not much to write because I've been crying too much this evening.
I had my ultrasound today and subsequently had this IUI cycle cancelled. My clomid was too high of a dose and I produced too many mature follicles, 5 of them by CD 9! Rather than risk HOM (high order multiples) we have had to cancel the IUI and are not allowed to even try on our own.
I am so sad. What else, God? This cycle has been reduced to a complete waste where I have absolutely no hope of getting a baby at the end.
I had my ultrasound today and subsequently had this IUI cycle cancelled. My clomid was too high of a dose and I produced too many mature follicles, 5 of them by CD 9! Rather than risk HOM (high order multiples) we have had to cancel the IUI and are not allowed to even try on our own.
I am so sad. What else, God? This cycle has been reduced to a complete waste where I have absolutely no hope of getting a baby at the end.
2/8/08
Walgreen's Breakdown
Otherwise known as: Don't Keep a Woman from her Hormones.
Just because my life seems to revolve around my lack of a baby and trying to obtain one, here is another TTC themed post.
So here we are cycle 11. We have now been formally diagnosed. We are both broken, yay! /sarcasm. MFI for Alex and Dysynchronous Endometrium for me. Basically his sperm are duds and my uterine lining sure as heck doesn't want to line up with the rest of my cycle.
Luckily, thanks for those prayers ladies, Alex's last SA was improved so we are now starting cycle 11 as our first medicated IUI cycle. IUI is insemination for thoe that don't understand. My RE put me 150mg of clomid to kick my cycle into gear. Thankfully the side effects have been minimal, though I've only been on it two days with three to go.
Getting the clomid however was a feat in and of itself.
I went to Target and they were confused by my drs script. He had written 150 mg with 3 pills and they weren't getting it. i had to show my IUI schedule to them where he clearly had "150mg from 3 pills total" filled in for them to understand. Then after a half an hour they tell me they can't fill it because they don't have the 15 pills.
So with cranky DH in tow I decide to go to Walgreens. It's dark, I'm hungry and tired, I'm just not in a good space.
They take forever to get my insurance info straight even asking me for my DH's SS. Like I would know that! Then they are all flustered over the 150mg thing. "But three 150mgs are too much. You can't take that much!" So I again show them my schedule which they make a copy of in order to accept the script. Great so now Walgreens has a copy of my reproductive schedule on file. They are privey to when I get shot up with sperm and what-not.
Then comes the moment when the chick realizes that my dr put today's date on two of the scripts but put tomorrows date on the clomid. They said they couldn't fill it. I, of coursse, freak out and immediately dissolve in tears. They called the office but it was after six so no way was he there. All I could do is cry and say, "I need to start it tonight". I think they realized that they had a crazy IF (infertile) woman in front of them and filled it.
I felt like a tool crying but I was so upset at the thought of not getting my drugs. It was like they were saying "no baby for you!"
Anyway so here I am on my clomid waiting to finish that and go into the drs office for my second ultrasound (with the huge dildo wand) to find out if we can keep going with the cycle. Don't want to have to many eggs going and don't want to have any cysts. Any of those and the cycle is cancelled. If not we can schedule a trigger shot in the butt and the rest I'll leave out. LOL
We have three of these before IVF in July. I'm just hoping we won't need to take that last step.
Just because my life seems to revolve around my lack of a baby and trying to obtain one, here is another TTC themed post.
So here we are cycle 11. We have now been formally diagnosed. We are both broken, yay! /sarcasm. MFI for Alex and Dysynchronous Endometrium for me. Basically his sperm are duds and my uterine lining sure as heck doesn't want to line up with the rest of my cycle.
Luckily, thanks for those prayers ladies, Alex's last SA was improved so we are now starting cycle 11 as our first medicated IUI cycle. IUI is insemination for thoe that don't understand. My RE put me 150mg of clomid to kick my cycle into gear. Thankfully the side effects have been minimal, though I've only been on it two days with three to go.
Getting the clomid however was a feat in and of itself.
I went to Target and they were confused by my drs script. He had written 150 mg with 3 pills and they weren't getting it. i had to show my IUI schedule to them where he clearly had "150mg from 3 pills total" filled in for them to understand. Then after a half an hour they tell me they can't fill it because they don't have the 15 pills.
So with cranky DH in tow I decide to go to Walgreens. It's dark, I'm hungry and tired, I'm just not in a good space.
They take forever to get my insurance info straight even asking me for my DH's SS. Like I would know that! Then they are all flustered over the 150mg thing. "But three 150mgs are too much. You can't take that much!" So I again show them my schedule which they make a copy of in order to accept the script. Great so now Walgreens has a copy of my reproductive schedule on file. They are privey to when I get shot up with sperm and what-not.
Then comes the moment when the chick realizes that my dr put today's date on two of the scripts but put tomorrows date on the clomid. They said they couldn't fill it. I, of coursse, freak out and immediately dissolve in tears. They called the office but it was after six so no way was he there. All I could do is cry and say, "I need to start it tonight". I think they realized that they had a crazy IF (infertile) woman in front of them and filled it.
I felt like a tool crying but I was so upset at the thought of not getting my drugs. It was like they were saying "no baby for you!"
Anyway so here I am on my clomid waiting to finish that and go into the drs office for my second ultrasound (with the huge dildo wand) to find out if we can keep going with the cycle. Don't want to have to many eggs going and don't want to have any cysts. Any of those and the cycle is cancelled. If not we can schedule a trigger shot in the butt and the rest I'll leave out. LOL
We have three of these before IVF in July. I'm just hoping we won't need to take that last step.
12/2/07
Children are a Work of ART
At least if I'm to have any, mine most likely will be, and by ART I mean Assisted Reproductive Technology.
I had my endometrial biopsy on Friday, since I had another failed cycle, and had arranged to take the rest of the afternoon off from work. I'm so glad I did because not only did it hurt like a bitch but I spent a good hour crying in the car with my mom.
I received some news that was something I didn't expect to hear. I expected that I would be the one with problems (I still may, I haven't gotten my biopsy results back yet) but it turned out it was Alex. His first SA was so bad they couldn't even complete all the tests.
It looks like he will be diagnosed with Severe MFI. According to my specialist, that means our only hope for a baby will be IVF with ICSI.
What? A test tube baby? Why God, why? I have never had anything easy in my life, never, and that news just felt like a slap in the face. I tried to hold it together in the office and ended up losing it in the car.
So now what? Alex has another SA on Tuesday and I'm praying that it be better, just 30% better so we could have the option of IUI. I don't know how we'll be able to afford IVF. I don't have $10,000+ lying around. We don't have credit and my insurance doesn't cover any infertility (a big FUCK YOU to the Catholic Church and their idea that IVF and other fertility treatments are degrading).
I am so, so sad. We need prayers right now, Alex for Tuesday (we don't have to tell Alex we are praying for him) and me for the strength to deal with it all. I'll take good, healing vibes too.
I had my endometrial biopsy on Friday, since I had another failed cycle, and had arranged to take the rest of the afternoon off from work. I'm so glad I did because not only did it hurt like a bitch but I spent a good hour crying in the car with my mom.
I received some news that was something I didn't expect to hear. I expected that I would be the one with problems (I still may, I haven't gotten my biopsy results back yet) but it turned out it was Alex. His first SA was so bad they couldn't even complete all the tests.
It looks like he will be diagnosed with Severe MFI. According to my specialist, that means our only hope for a baby will be IVF with ICSI.
What? A test tube baby? Why God, why? I have never had anything easy in my life, never, and that news just felt like a slap in the face. I tried to hold it together in the office and ended up losing it in the car.
So now what? Alex has another SA on Tuesday and I'm praying that it be better, just 30% better so we could have the option of IUI. I don't know how we'll be able to afford IVF. I don't have $10,000+ lying around. We don't have credit and my insurance doesn't cover any infertility (a big FUCK YOU to the Catholic Church and their idea that IVF and other fertility treatments are degrading).
I am so, so sad. We need prayers right now, Alex for Tuesday (we don't have to tell Alex we are praying for him) and me for the strength to deal with it all. I'll take good, healing vibes too.
11/12/07
They Speak the Truth
I wanted to share two videos that really have touched me.
My Aunt Jane Knows More Than my RE
I seriously have had people say all of this crap to me already!
I Would Die For That
I cry every time I watch this and no, it's not because it's a country song. Make sure you have Kleenex handy.
Cycle 8
I'm a lame person. I have been entrenched in misery and so as to spare you all, have kept to myself. Probably not a good move but no one likes a downer.
Anyway, I should probably fill you all in on me these past couple months. The beginning of this post is a rant, or brain dump as I call them, I wrote about a month and a half ago. Read at your own risk.
******************************
Warning: If you are a guy you probably don't want to read this. If you get easily skeeved out by body fluids you don't want to read this. If you don't want to listen to me whine, well, there's the "back" button...
I'm turning into a Bitter Betty. My last few months have been children obsessed. I'm not even talking about my 5th graders. Ugh I try to forget them as much as possible (at least the 4 kids that make every day a living hell). I'm talking about making a child obsession.
For the past 6 months my life has been TTC hell and frankly I'm tired of it and it's making me bitter.
Honestly I think HS health teachers are friggen liars! "Oh don't have unprotected sex, you'll get pregnant! Don't pull out, she'll get pregnant. Don't let him breathe on you, you'll get pregnant." Bullshit! How can two people have so much unprotected sex and not get knocked up? Every other day and then some people.
I am tired. I am tired of all the charting, taking my temp before my eyes even open and analyzing it every freaking day. I'm tired of fingering myself multiple times a day to check for...wait for it...cervical mucus. Poor Alex knows more about CM than any man should. I'm tired on peeing on stick to see if I'm ovulating and two weeks later peeing on sticks, hoping to see two lines and only ever getting one.
I'm tired of the PNVs, soy isoflaves, Omega 369, cranberry, green tea, magnesium, grapefruit juice, and baby carrots. I'm tired of all the psychosomatic symptoms and weird twinges. I'm tired of hoping every month to only have those hopes dashed on a negative pee stick or seeing spotting. And the sad thing is no matter how tired I am of it all I'll keep doing it until we reach our goal.
I know it's only been six months (we "officially" started in June but were not preventing from April on) but six months more will surely drive me batshit insane or make me incredibly depressed. If I hear, "just relax, it'll happen" one more time I'm going to punch that person in the face. Relaxing doesn't get you knocked up. We tried that anyway. I'm freaking 35 1/2. I don't have time to "relax". I already feel like I've deprived my future child of time with my mom or, God forbid, my Grammy. This breaks my heart. Obviously many women have babies later but I never thought I'd be childless at 35, never.
To make matters worse, pregnant people are everywhere. My friends, co-workers, old ex-friends (with twins for christsake!) are all knocked up. I ride the bus home and pregnant women or women with newborns just have to sit next to me out of all the seats they could choose. I hate being bitter and angry that I'm not one of them, but I am. It makes me feel so, so sad. So here I am admitting my green eyed monster and my fear that it'll never be me.
So where do we go from here? We keep trying.I keep temping. I keep praying for two lines and a "sticky bean". We endure sex with cups, ultrasounds, and bloodtests, hoping we are ok, that I'm ok. That's its just me that is tired and not my eggs.
*****************************
So that was a little over a month and a half and another BFN ago. I'm now on cycle 8. We have started fertility testing with a specialist. I have endured being poked by needles and having various liquids and devices shoved up my cervix (Boo to balloons and dye) and insurance not covering any of it. Oh yeah, the Catholic Church doesn't like fertility treatments. They think it's "degrading to the baby". Luckily everything is normal so far. Now we are just waiting on Alex's boys' results and lucky me gets to have a uterine biopsy and possible LAP. Oh joy!
I'm just really hoping that we get pregnant soon. My hope for a summer baby is gone and now I'll just take one whenever.
Of course that's just the half of it. My life is pretty much crap due to one student in particular but I'll save that rant for another time.
Anyway, I should probably fill you all in on me these past couple months. The beginning of this post is a rant, or brain dump as I call them, I wrote about a month and a half ago. Read at your own risk.
******************************
Warning: If you are a guy you probably don't want to read this. If you get easily skeeved out by body fluids you don't want to read this. If you don't want to listen to me whine, well, there's the "back" button...
I'm turning into a Bitter Betty. My last few months have been children obsessed. I'm not even talking about my 5th graders. Ugh I try to forget them as much as possible (at least the 4 kids that make every day a living hell). I'm talking about making a child obsession.
For the past 6 months my life has been TTC hell and frankly I'm tired of it and it's making me bitter.
Honestly I think HS health teachers are friggen liars! "Oh don't have unprotected sex, you'll get pregnant! Don't pull out, she'll get pregnant. Don't let him breathe on you, you'll get pregnant." Bullshit! How can two people have so much unprotected sex and not get knocked up? Every other day and then some people.
I am tired. I am tired of all the charting, taking my temp before my eyes even open and analyzing it every freaking day. I'm tired of fingering myself multiple times a day to check for...wait for it...cervical mucus. Poor Alex knows more about CM than any man should. I'm tired on peeing on stick to see if I'm ovulating and two weeks later peeing on sticks, hoping to see two lines and only ever getting one.
I'm tired of the PNVs, soy isoflaves, Omega 369, cranberry, green tea, magnesium, grapefruit juice, and baby carrots. I'm tired of all the psychosomatic symptoms and weird twinges. I'm tired of hoping every month to only have those hopes dashed on a negative pee stick or seeing spotting. And the sad thing is no matter how tired I am of it all I'll keep doing it until we reach our goal.
I know it's only been six months (we "officially" started in June but were not preventing from April on) but six months more will surely drive me batshit insane or make me incredibly depressed. If I hear, "just relax, it'll happen" one more time I'm going to punch that person in the face. Relaxing doesn't get you knocked up. We tried that anyway. I'm freaking 35 1/2. I don't have time to "relax". I already feel like I've deprived my future child of time with my mom or, God forbid, my Grammy. This breaks my heart. Obviously many women have babies later but I never thought I'd be childless at 35, never.
To make matters worse, pregnant people are everywhere. My friends, co-workers, old ex-friends (with twins for christsake!) are all knocked up. I ride the bus home and pregnant women or women with newborns just have to sit next to me out of all the seats they could choose. I hate being bitter and angry that I'm not one of them, but I am. It makes me feel so, so sad. So here I am admitting my green eyed monster and my fear that it'll never be me.
So where do we go from here? We keep trying.I keep temping. I keep praying for two lines and a "sticky bean". We endure sex with cups, ultrasounds, and bloodtests, hoping we are ok, that I'm ok. That's its just me that is tired and not my eggs.
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So that was a little over a month and a half and another BFN ago. I'm now on cycle 8. We have started fertility testing with a specialist. I have endured being poked by needles and having various liquids and devices shoved up my cervix (Boo to balloons and dye) and insurance not covering any of it. Oh yeah, the Catholic Church doesn't like fertility treatments. They think it's "degrading to the baby". Luckily everything is normal so far. Now we are just waiting on Alex's boys' results and lucky me gets to have a uterine biopsy and possible LAP. Oh joy!
I'm just really hoping that we get pregnant soon. My hope for a summer baby is gone and now I'll just take one whenever.
Of course that's just the half of it. My life is pretty much crap due to one student in particular but I'll save that rant for another time.
8/25/07
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