they will come.
Maybe that will be the case for my recent knitting hobby of baby items?!? A girl can hope, no?
So I finished project #1 - The baby blanket!
It looks awful and old and holey (believe me when I say the photo makes it look a hundred times better than reality) but it's complete and it's a blanket for a baby. I'll hold onto it just as a reminder of my first big project (and because I'd be a little embarrassed to give it to someone).
I also completed project #2 - The scarf. But I did that the other week and completed in one full day of knit, knit, purl, purling. It's a gift for my cousin so I call it... the Katrina.
I'm not sure what I should call the baby blanket though. Any ideas?
Saturday, February 28, 2009
they will come.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
That's the burning question.
I'm on CD22 and 12 digital, expensive-as-hell OPK sticks later and still no smiley face! :(
So do I or don't I ... buy more sticks? We're already out $70 this month (they're $40 for seven fucking sticks! but we were lucky to find ONE box on sale).
My boobs hurt so I know AF is coming. I guess I could've O'd early and I'm really just k/u. But it's very doubtful.
I really am not a fan of this TTC bullshit. I just want to make that clear.
Friday, February 20, 2009
I absolutely hated blending in with everyone else.
I suspect that this attitude was due to the fact that I went to so many different schools and by the third high school I attended in the first two years of my high school education, it didn't matter what I did to try to make friends anyway. People just weren't accepting of a newbie. Not at the schools I attended, at least.
And I know if I tried harder... if I had the right shoes and jeans and haircut... if I had the expensive car, I could've probably managed to fit in more. But I was tired of trying so hard only to get laughed at and talked about. And there was no way I could afford to fit in anyway. Not at the schools I attended.
So rather than try to fit in, I was able to figure out who I was sooner than a lot of other people. As a 36-year-old, I firmly believe this.
I'm not saying I didn't have my gazillion moments of insecurities; but I was basically forced to figure out who I was and accept who I was because if I didn't, nobody else was going to for me and I may as well have just killed myself.
But I couldn't do that. I had some hope (thank you Bryan Adams) and I was an Aunt (by 13) and I took my Aunthood very serious. I refused to let down my kids.
By senior year of high school, I was OK with who I was and the fact that I didn't fit in. I hated the school I was attending and the kids that were in the area. They looked the same, they all liked the same things, ate the same things, went to the same places. It was like living in some sort of really bad television show.
In my 20s, socializing was easier and while I didn't necessarily fit in and match every other 20-something-year old (never went away to school and did the whole sorority thing, never went clubbing, never went on Spring Break, etc), it didn't matter as much. I didn't feel as different in my 20s like I did in my teens, but I also didn't feel like I was being anything other than myself.
Now in my 30s, none of that really matters. At least to me it doesn't. By the time you hit your 30s, I think most people evolve quite a bit, which is probably why many end up married and with families. They have nothing to really prove anymore, they are who they are and they're living life the way they want to.
Or something. Ha.
I don't know what I'm getting at other than for the first time in my life since I was a pre-teen, I've never wanted to feel more "normal".
I want to be the cliche 36-year-old woman who's running ragged trying to keep up with her kids, her house, her job, her husband. I want to have wrinkles invading my face and sleep invading my eyes because I'm exhausted from keeping up with it all. I want to have to get up at the crack ass of dawn to make sure everyone is ready to go: lunches packed, breakfast on the table, kids clean and dressed. I want to go to PTA meetings and help my kids tie their shoes, read and write. I want to have a preteen or early teenager and have to deal with their annoying hormonal attitudes. I just want to be a normal 36-year-old and I hate feeling like I'm 10, if not 15 years behind everyone else.
Did I do this to myself? Did I try so hard to be different when I was younger that it became who I am and always will be?
I know a lot of this is my own fault. I didn't start really living life until about 10 years ago. Instead, I waited for things to happen to me instead of making them happen for me. So yeah, I guess I did do this to myself.
Fuck me sideways, my poor kid (won't even put an 's' in parentheses next to 'kid' because I'll be so fucking lucky with one healthy child at this point in my fucking life), should I be blessed to have one, will have a grandmother for a Mom. :(
I really really hate that time moves so fucking fast sometimes.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Yeah so here's a new article on the Mysteries of Miscarriage: Article.
According to this article, the reason I 'most likely' may have miscarried was because I'm A) fat and B) of advanced maternal age. Because I certainly avoided everything else in that article and have been taking prenatals for almost two years now! But then again, the end of the article also claims that I'm 'normal'.
So which is it? Hmph!
Still no smiley on the OPK. Apparently the Mr. is wanting a baby more these days. Or something. Not only did he buy the OPK's this time, but he also made the comment that the best way to 'do this' might be to have The Sex every other day.
It's only been 13 months. I swear he's not mentally challenged normally.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I'm not sure what I was doing yesterday writing about my busy week and forgetting the single most important factor of the entire week, month, year so far... BRYAN ADAMS IS COMING! :)
And this time, it's all him, all acoustic. Holy mother of god am I excited!
I got tickets already but there was some drama involved, of course. There was a presale but, as you can see from the image, there was also an auction... and the auction was for 2 front row tickets and a meet and great with Bryan himself. Ack, makes me wanna vomit thinking about it!
Well, when I went to see about the presale/auction, I noticed that the auction started at $170 per ticket and you had to bid on a min/max of 2 tickets. It's a once in a lifetime thing (sort of) so I thought what the fuck, why not? But then I saw that the auction wasn't ending until the 23rd! Well, WTF?! I can't really go more than $200 a ticket - and even that is ridiculous IMO. So I decided to wait for Saturday for when the regular tickets would go on sale since the auction was the only option available.
But then my friend emailed me to let me know that tickets were on sale and we went back and forth about the auction and Fuck Me Sideways! the regular tickets were also on presale in addition to the Auction! So an hour and a half after the Presale began, I finally got my tickets: Row K on the main floor. They're good seats, but what would I have gotten had the fucking Ticketmaster thingie displayed that there was still a presale for regular seats available in addition to the Auction?! Grrrr.
I'm still happy, don't get me wrong... just a little ticked off that I couldn't get better seats when I had every intention of doing so.
So will all this Bryan Adams nonsense ever dissipate from my life? Or will I love and adore this man until one of us dies? It's a question I've thought about for about 20 years now, insanely enough. I know I've talked about my obsession with the man before... and it stems from him saving my life. For real. No joke. Pathetic maybe, yes; but not a joke. That's where my obsession and love for him stems from... it's not that I lust over his body or something because I don't. He's just ... I just am very grateful to be a fan of someone who loves what he does so much that he keeps doing it regardless.
Doesn't everyone have a Bryan Adams of sorts in their life? Maybe it's in the form of a movie or a book or a piece of art? Or maybe I'm just fucking batshitcrazy.
The condo we looked at yesterday was pretty OK. I really liked that every single room had a window or two. I liked the location a lot. There were a couple things I didn't care for - the bedrooms still had old carpeting, the layout wouldn't be so fun for the cats, the laundry is all the way in the basement (it was a top floor unit). But the things I liked about it trumps the things I disliked... but Stephen's not entirely on the same page. We'll keep looking, of course, but hot damn is this not very easy.
I peed on a digital OPK and didn't get a smiley yet.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
It's been a pretty busy week and when I'm busy, I'm not as occupied with the fact that I should be 8 months pregnant and expecting a baby at any time now - but am not any longer. This is a good thing because I'm quite sure that when the end of this month and early next month rolls around, I will be singing a different tune... one that I'm not very much looking forward to.
Maybe I can avoid it by keeping busy through the next couple of months. Here's to hoping, eh?
So this week was spent looking for a new home (apartment, townhouse, house, loft). There are gobs of listings, of course, but we have certain criteria, of course, that must be met before we even look at a place: minimum 2 bedrooms, central a/c, off-street parking, cats allowed. I've been spending a great portion of the week sifting through ads, contacting people to inquire about a/c and parking (mainly), and keeping track of it all.
We saw two places last Friday and both were in the same development. Think the Edward Scissorhands neighborhood... or the opening of Weeds when they show the neighborhood. Every single home looks identical.
Honestly, aside from the fact that one of the townhouses was in awful condition and the other was stark white and laid out oddly, there's no way we'd rent because it would take forever to figure out which 'home' was ours! It was quite crazy, to be blunt. It was like a subdivision of 10 streets and off of those 10 streets were rows jutting in and out of the street. And on those rows were about 10 buildings containing 4 single space garages that were completely attached and 4 homes. It was fucking weird, I say! If you didn't live there, you had to park on the street and the street had no parking on it because it was full of cars already. And even if you found a parking spot, you'd have to be a mad scientist to figure out which 'house' was the one you needed to visit.
It was pretty disappointing, but whatever.
Our next "adventure" was visiting yet another townhouse in the city. This place had it all - 3 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, 2 car attached garage, 4 levels, awesome kitchen, washer/dryer in unit (wooooo!). And the location was absolutely spot on for us as it was located near the expressway I hop on to get to/from work and the one Stephen takes as well. It would cut our current commute down by at least a half hour!
We were pretty damn excited to be seeing the place and almost as soon as the tour began, we were wishing it would be over.
I was beyond pissed by the time we left the house.
How on earth can people show a home in such a nasty fucking condition? It completely infuriates me. The floors were filthy, the kitchen sink was atrocious and looked as if it hadn't been cleaned once in the six years it had been there, the cabinet next to the fridge had mold in it, the fridge wreaked like.. I don't even want to guess, the stairway's carpeting was completely filthy, the walls were not painted and had marks and gashes in them, the 2 smaller bedrooms were filthy and not freshly painted, the bathroom tubs had mold on the edges... I was livid by the time we left.
It was the perfect location, the perfect size; it was warm and quiet even though it was on a busy street; it had an attached garage, washer/dryer... but it was filthy.
So now we're back at square one. We have another appointment this afternoon to view a place with 1 car attached garage. It's more apartment-like than house, but it *looks* much cleaner. And so help me if I walk in and it's filthy again, I don't think I can hold my tongue!
After today's tour, we have to go to my condo and make sure it's ready for the new tenant. I'm happy we found someone (finally- after almost two fucking years) but I'm sad because it's *my* condo and by renting it out, it's like releasing my independancy - or something.
I love being married and being with my man all the time... but I worked my ass off to get that condo - and I did it all by myself.
Not only that but by renting it out, that means we have to do this searching for a place for us because I *refuse* to continue to live in the hole we're currently living in. (The condo is a 1 bedroom before you ask why we're not living there.)
So that's what's going on with me and why I haven't been posting.
And in TTC-related bullshit...
I sent Stephen out to get some OPK's. Clearblue Easy Digital ones, to be exact. The ones with the smiley face. The ones that tell you, one way or another, whether or not it's time to get your groove on. No more taking things easy. Screw that. We're on cycle 13, gdammit. That means it's time to FWAP (fuck with a purpose)!
Anyway, I've sent him a couple links to good offers on these as they can be quite damn pricey, but he kept forgetting to order them so I finally told him to just go get them at Walgreens or CVS. So he did. Last night.
And that leads to something that cracked my shit up: He went to a CVS first and the CBE digitals were on sale and therefore there were none on the shelf. So then we drove over to Walgreens and found that they were on sale there, too. Fortunately he found that there was ONE box left in the back. So he grabs it and goes to check out and the cashier says, "Uh oh, what did you do?"
Stephen says, "It's not what you think," and points out that it's and ovulation package and not pregnancy tests. "I haven't done anything yet," he adds.
"Oh," the cashier says, "it's just that every other guy has come in here buying cards, chocolates, and teddy bears and you're buying those."
Ooopsie. I kind of forgot that I was sending him out there the day before Valentine's day. Ha! He's such a trooper.
So here's to FWAP in the hopes of giving my trooper husband a baby for his birthday in November.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
It truly never ceases to amaze me how much more...human I feel once AF arrives. Honest to god the two or three week buildup to her arrival is insane -- emotionally, physically, everything. I hate who I become and I'm so tired of it.
Anyway, I'm on CD4 of my 13th cycle TTC. This should actually be cycle 14 but because AF decided to skip town in January for some reason, here we are at 13. As of today, right now, I'm feeling great about things. We're going to be getting digital OPK's -- the ones with the smiley face -- and a new basal thermometer. And we're going to FWAP (fuck with a purpose) once that smiley shows up! We're going to make a baby, dammit! One for Stephen's birthday in November! That's it! I've decided. It's happening this cycle! It just has to.
I think another reason I'm feeling great today is that I've got something to focus on other than baby making... I've taken up knitting and we're moving at the end of next month.
It took me a while to get the hang of the knitting but now that I feel more comfortable with it, I'm having a hard time putting it down! So I decided to embark upon the task of making a baby blanket. I've got one nephew due to arrive in early July and another great-nephew or great-niece (I'm not going to even comment how it is that everyone else can seem to pop out babies around me) due in early September. This first blanket is for the nephew and it calls for 116 stitches across and 160 rows! When complete it should measure 32x36.
There's nothing real fancy about it - just regular knitting and some purling.
Here's the first 10 rows, regular knit:
And the next 10 rows with purling and regular knitting:
Eeek! I can't believe I've done so much of it... here's the next 10 rows (30 total):
I've still got quite a ways to go, but I'm so happy with the progress of it so far... even though there are a couple holes (you can see one of them in this pic near the bottom, near right side) which I'm hoping my mom can somehow fix. And even if she can't fix, I'm not giving up. I'm going to finish it if it's the only knitting I ever do (which I don't think it will be because I find it very enjoyable and relaxing).
So aside from the knitting, we're also moving at the end of next month.
I hate moving. I mean, I don't really know anyone who likes it but .. ugh. The only thing I "like" about it is that it's a great opportunity to purge a lot of shit and a great way to start over fresh and sparkling clean. Plus, this move is a bit different than past moves because it will be our first place that we both pick out together.
Still, I hate moving... looking at enough places, finding the one we both agree on, coming up with the money for deposit, packing (ugh!), physically moving (double ugh!). Gross.
But at least all of this is keeping me away from all the baby boards and stuff.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Yeah so every so often I can check and see how people stumble onto my blog and I think yesterday's was my favorite. Apparently someone from Missouri found my blog by searching "Losing my mind, ready to snap with kids" on google. Why and how that brought them here - to a blog about a woman dealing with one pregnancy loss, no babies of her own, and surviving everyone else's pregnancy/baby/kid stories - I don't know. I mean, yeah, I've about Snapped a couple times, but not as a result of my kids driving me crazy. Quite the contrary.
If I don't laugh about it, I'll cry and I've certainly done more than my share of that lately.
Today=CD2=bad motherfucking cramping and bleeding. But at least the irritability has dissipated greatly.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Today involved a trip to the doctor.
I tried not to. But I couldn’t help it.
When I first walked in, I was greeted by a barely walking little boy. My heart felt a tug. When I turned the corner to get to the receptionist’s area, I was greeted by pregnant belly after pregnant belly. As I sat down to fill out paperwork, a male voice behind me said, “Yeah, it’s another girl.”
I tried not to cry.
Then a little girl appeared. Maybe two. “She’s so cute,” was said over and over again. She really, really was. I think she was the big sister to the girl mentioned in the phone call from the guy behind me.
I filled out the paperwork, wiping a tear here and there.
I should be 8 months pregnant right now. I should be seriously freaking out about giving birth in a couple weeks. It should be hard for me to fit behind the steering wheel in the car.
Instead, I’m visiting the doctor because it’s been 43 days since my last period.
My name is called and I look up at the girl calling out for me. She, too, is pregnant.
I wanted to collapse to the floor, shrink into the fetal position, and cry myself to sleep.
“How are you?” she asked.
“OK,” I whispered, trying to stifle the tears.
I followed her down two short hallways into a room. She closed the door behind us.
“So why are you here today?” she asked, looking down at her paperwork.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t make eye contact. I tried my best to breathe and when I tried speaking, I lost it. I started crying...sobbing uncontrollably whilst trying to apologize.
“It’s OK,” she said.
I don’t think she believed it was either.
After a good minute, I finally managed to tell her why I was there – because I was still waiting for my period. And I finally managed to tell her it was my sixth cycle since the d&c.
I cried some more. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t look at her. And I knew she felt pity for me and that made me cry more. I hate that I’m becoming (or maybe I’ve already become?) that person that everyone feels pity for. I HATE IT!
She told me it was going to be OK (not very convincingly) and that I needed to undress from the waist down and that the doc would be in shortly.
I suspect she left there, rubbing her belly and saying a little something to her baby as she walked to the front for her next patient. I know I would’ve.
I pulled myself together in time for the doc to come in. We talked for quite a while. He looked through all the paperwork and I saw the ultrasound printouts from six months ago. My heart sank. I looked away and recited the alphabet in my mind as we talked about everything.
He really is a great doctor when he doesn’t have to be the bearer of horrific news.
He did an internal exam.
We talked a bit more about everything baby/TTC related. We both agree that Stephen and I are going to continue trying for another 5 months… and if no BFP by July, one year following my one and only BFP, then doc will turn me over to an RE.
Before leaving entirely, he had the girls draw blood and then do another ultrasound. My fifth in six months – and I’m not even pregnant.
“This goes into the vagina,” the tech said, holding a wand of sorts. “I can guide it in or you can.”
Wah?!? Why the fuck would I want to ‘guide in’ a fucking camera?! “Um you can.”
Ugh. This one was painful. She poked and prodded and pushed that fucking wand around a good bit before telling me to get dressed again and come out when done.
When I did, she took me to another room and the doc came right away. He told me my uterus looked great (and I believed him). He said my ovaries had follicles and everything looked the way it should. He said if I didn’t get “any blood” (he was careful not to say “a period” or “menstruation” interestingly enough) in the next two weeks to come back.
So now I wait. Again.