You Wanna Know?

Okay, since so many of your responded to my last post with "Been there, done that, done worse." I have decided you can all handle the story I was going to tell. I am sure now that you will all get a laugh.

Saturday night Hubs and I allowed my best friend to baby sit (at her request [I'm serious]) and went out for a date for the first time in eons. We started out with a really tasty dinner at Son.oma and then headed to a couple's massage at a massage club where I am a member. I guess Hubs enjoyed his massage so much, it made him a little frisky. We have been so off-sync from each other lately, I welcomed his advances. So we played around a little bit after our masseurs left the room to allow us to get dressed. We didn't stick around for too long because we knew they were waiting for us on the other side of the door.

On our way out, I stopped to use the ladies. Silly me, I forgot to lock the door. Of course, I seriously didn't think Hubs was feeling THAT frisky. He was.

After we had been in there for a couple of minutes, there was a knock on the door. I shouted that it was occupied, and the person on the other side shouted, "Yeah, they're in there." Hubs and I both laughed, but he would not be deterred. A few minutes later there was another knock followed by, "Hey guys, we're closing." Shortly thereafter, we emerged.

I told Hubs I would not be able to go back for another massage for months and was afraid they had marked "Has sex in the bathroom" on my chart. He laughed and told me we should schedule another couple's massage for 3 weeks down the road and request the same masseurs.

The sad (or funny) thing is, I can't say that was the strangest place we've ever "done the deed."

Wooooo Hoooo!

I wanted to tell you all a completely different funny story tonight. I had it all written up and ready to post, but then I wasn't sure if it was appropriate. It wasn't detailed or anything, but some would think that some stories are better left unshared. So instead, I decided to tell you a different, tamer funny story.

When I was in college, a boyfriend and I went for a drive up the canyon where we decided to park and make out. (No, there was no sex involved. I was a firm believer in saving virginity for marriage.) He drove a great big, red suburban that had the back seats removed. We started making out in the front seat, and then climbed gingerly into the back to continue making out in a more friendly position.

As we were enjoying each other's company a car pulled into the same circle as us. I started to giggle and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if that was a cop?" My boyfriend was outraged and said angrily, "No, it would NOT!" That made me laugh more. Just then there was a knock at the window. I could not contain my laughter. My boyfriend threw me a dirty look as he crawled into the front seat and rolled down the window.

The cop shone his flash light into the car and asked my boyfriend what we were doing. Gary replied that we were just hanging out. The cop then shined his light on me as he smirked and said, "Ma'am, I have to ask you if you are being held here against your will."

"Oh no sir. I am enjoying myself very much. Thank you."

The cop laughed and my boyfriend threw me another scathing look. He told us the canyon was closed after dark and told us he would appreciate it if we would clear out. My boyfriend was all too happy to oblige. He rolled up the window and I howled with laughter as I crawled back into the front seat.

"Don't you dare tell ANYONE!" He yelled at me. He was so embarrassed, although I will never understand why.

I laughed and said, "Mum's the word."

As soon as I got home, I ran to my room, grabbed my phone and called my dad. "Dad, I have to tell you the funniest story!"

My ex-boyfriend later went on to buy a purple Do.dge N.eon and date a robust girl. Thank heaven I dodged that bullet!

A Serious Case of the Mondays

To Do:

I rolled over sleepily to turn off my alarm clock. How could it be time to get up already? How could it be Monday already? Then I noticed there was a wet spot IN my bed. How could that be? I reached my arm out from under my warm covers into the cold morning air to feel if the wet spot had come from the top of the bed. My hand met with the culprit full on: dog vomit.

I had just pulled the comforter out of the plastic bag fresh from the dry cleaners the night before, and now every layer of my bedding was soaking with dog vomit. I swore out loud, pushed the covers back, realizing painfully there would be no hitting snooze this morning, and put one foot out of bed and straight into a cold pile of dog diarrhea. I swore again, only more loudly, as my dog scurried from the room.

It was dark and cold. I like to sleep with my window open, especially in winter. I hobbled on the heal of the foot covered in feces to the bathroom sink while holding the hand covered in dog vomit up. I washed my hand and then my foot in freezing cold water. Next I turned on the lights to survey the damage. There was a massive brown puddle all over the floor next to the bed with a trail leading out of the bedroom.

I swore again.

The worst part about mornings like this is trying to wake yourself up to be coherent enough to map out a good battle plan for fighting dog poo stains.

I made my way down the hall to find the faux carpet steamer cleaner (just add hot water), and the fight to find all of the bits and pieces began. Where had I put the cleaning solution? Why the deuce was it downstairs instead up upstairs where the cleaner was?! I hate myself in that moment. Where was the Re.solve Pet Stain cleaner? How was I ever going to get this out?! "Calm down. This isn't the first time you've gotten diarrhea out of the white berber. You can do it again."

On my way down stairs I noticed my dog is a complete maximizer, as she managed to cover some serious footage with diarrhea drizzle all throughout the house. All the way down the stairs (and in the middle, I might add), all around the dining room table (yes, she walked 360 degrees around the table), through the kitchen, and to the back door (where she undoubtedly realized she was done needing to go outside).

As I cleaned, I realized my dog was really sick. She never throws up. Diarrhea isn't a big deal, but the runs coupled with vomiting is a bad sign. I began to think of what she could have possibly eaten and wondered whether or not this would constitute a trip to the vet.

Flash back to last night when I gave my daughter a bowl of grapes. "Just make sure you don't give any to the doggies baby. They will make them sick."

Another profanity.

Grapes are toxic to dogs. As few as seven little grapes can kill a dog. They shut down a dog's liver. Luckily I knew this because I knew in that instant my dog was going to the vet to have her life saved.

Ten minutes after I should have been at work (I texted my PM an hour before to tell him I would be late and why), I was on my way out the door with my sick dog and newly soiled clean comforter. I wasn't too worried about my pooch because she was acting normal. Then I talked to the vet and broke out in a cold sweat. He informed me that they always seem fine in the beginning, but they get worse as the hours go on. It was a good thing I knew to bring her in.

At 11:00 I couldn't take the wait anymore and called the vet to see how she was doing. All of her blood work had come back good. I had gotten her there soon enough. She was on IVs to replace her fluids and was being given antibiotics intravenously. They didn't want me to come get her before 6:00 at night, so as to prolong her IV time and prevent the need for her to be kept overnight.

At 6:00 the Munchkin and I showed up to pick up a very happy-to-go-home Mags. I paid the bill, all the while thanking the heavens I had pet insurance that cut my bill in half. I then grabbed Maggie's meds and took her and the Munchkin home. Once there I had to go over the biggest stain in the carpet with cleaner one more time. Mags returned to the scene of the crime while I was cleaning. I looked at her and said, "All that matters is that you are okay."

Thank heaven today is over and my dog is going to be fine.

P.S. In case you are wondering, yes the picture above depicts my Christmas tree being shoved up a GE Engineer's backside. More on the story behind that later.

Babies, Babies everywhere...

... but it's still an empty womb for me.

The last couple of weeks I have been trying to decide what to do with this blog. Tonight, I got an answer I never expected. When I first started blogging, I had no idea really what it would become. All I knew was that I was going through infertility alone, but I knew I wasn't the only woman struggling with it. My mission then was two fold: find others who were fighting the same battle I was, and help anyone else going through what I was any way I could. My blog was and still is open to everyone. Over the years I've passed out the URL to friends, family, and coworkers because when I moved away from my home state, it also turned into a way for everyone back home to keep up on the going's on in my life. So it then served a third purpose. I then did something I wish I hadn't, but won't change now; I made my blog part of my Fa.cebook page. In doing so, I gave access to it to everyone who was on my friend list, and let's face it, we all have "friends" on FB that we really aren't friends with. For me it was that girl from high school with whom I was always competing in band over who was the better trumpet player. She now has access to my blog simply because she was ballsy enough to friend me on FB after all these years, and I am a big advocate for let bygones be bygones.

But tonight I am struggling with something I don't want all of my real life world to know. I am struggling with the fact that my period decided to show up three days early. Okay, it's not full on bleeding, but it's spotting, and that is the pregnancy death sentence in my world. Implantation bleeding does not happen to me. So spotting + cramps = BFN. That's not the part I don't want to share. I don't want everyone out there to know that right now, in this moment, I am so incredibly bitter. I am angry. I am so hurt. I hate this stupid broken scarred uterus of mine, and right now all I want to do is punch the daylights out of it. I want to snuff the life out of that stupid glimmer of hope that keeps nagging me in the back of my mind. Right now, I just want to wallow.

Yes, this is very unlike me, and part of it could be attributed to my stepping down another 5 mg on my antidepressants. I usually time the step down better so that it doesn't coincide with this time of the month for this very reason. However, I shouldn't be experiencing withdrawal symptoms yet.

Normally this situation would happen and I would take an hour or two to feel sad, and then I would let in all of those hopeful, positive thoughts. "We'll try again next month." "You're not really bleeding yet, maybe, just maybe it is implantation bleeding. I mean, your uterus has been really easily irritated since the surgery and spotting isn't uncommon from the slightest things. It really could be implantation bleeding. The fat lady hasn't sung yet." "I know it will work eventually."

Tonight, my bitter infertile knocked all of those hopeful thoughts down into the dust and proceeded to pummel them. "Sure we'll try again next month... and the next, and the next, and the next..." "It isn't implantation bleeding. You're an idiot. It didn't work." "Get the hint, you're broken."

I just want to break down and cry.

Then I think of all of the time I am wasting by focusing on any of this at all. How much I am missing of my daughter because I am too busy entertaining any of these thoughts in the first place. Tonight when I put her to bed, she giggled and wanted to play games, but all I could do was give her a half smile, tell her I loved her, and kiss her goodnight. I felt even more horrible in that moment, if that was possible.

I want to give her a sibling so badly. I am afraid I won't be able to. What kind of toll is my fight going to have on her if I can't let it go?

Tonight when my husband got home, for whatever reason, he decided not to be nice, despite the fact that we had been emailing back and forth all day and I had told him I had officially declared war on this day because of the way it started out (a story for another day). This was before I started spotting and before the spotting increased and went from brown to red. So when he was rude, I politely told him I didn't need that right now. Then I let him in to what I was feeling. I started to cry. He just sat there, focused on what he was doing, and ignored me. Ouch. Take three hits, one for him, one for me, and one for our relationship.

I realize he is tired of this. But guess what? So am I! He is my companion. I need him to support me every devastating month whether he is sick of it or not. This whole fight hurts me. And when he shuts me out like that, I feel so alone. I grieve alone. The best part is, he tried to go about the rest of the night like nothing had happened, which made it all worse. It makes me feel like he is saying my feelings are not justified, yet he has gone through this whole fight with me. They damn well are justified! It's not like I'm Anna Du.ggar crying because I didn't get pregnant within the first three months of trying. I have a history of infertility, severe endometriosis, PCOS, and now have a very scarred uterus. There is plenty of reason for me to worry about my ability to conceive.

Right now, I really hate that voice that says, "well at least you have your daughter." I am so grateful for my daughter, and having her definitely helps make these moments easier to bear. But right now, my hurt is so raw. It is yet another reminder that I am still broken. Always broken. A tourniquet can only do so much to stop blood gushing from a wound.

Yes, I know I will get back on my feet sooner than later. I will shortly be back to my optimistic, happy self, ready to take on the next month. I will chart out a new diet that will help with conception, get my fertility monitor ready, and all that jazz. But right now, I just want to wallow in my pity and grief. I want to wrap it around me like a blanket, and then roll around in it like mud. I want to feel it with my finger tips and inhale it's bitter scent. Because if I don't do this, I can't move forward. I need to not bottle it up. I need to feel it and let it out.

Infertility really sucks. Being an infertile sucks even more. But fear sucks even more than that.

Grownup

I just wrote up a whole post about how I haven't been blogging due to lack of time, complete with apology for not being caught up on all of yours. But you know what? I think we're all sick of those posts from me. Let's talk about something fun instead.

I have asked this question to many of my friends lately because I am curious as to their responses. Here is the question:

Is being an adult anything like you thought it would be?

The answer for me is absolutely not.

It is a million times better.

I always thought that when I grew up, and especially when I became a mom, that the fun part of me would die. I would have to be responsible, and being responsible meant that I wouldn't be silly anymore. That I would have to be serious all of the time. I was afraid my sense of humor would be stiffled and I would end up being a disciplinarian like my mother.

It wasn't until I became a mother that this thought really started occurring to me. It was because I was having so much fun with my daughter. I was enjoying buying her toys as much as I would have enjoyed getting them as a kid. Even better, I was loving the fact that I could sit on the floor and play with them with her without it being found "creepy" that I was playing with children's toys.

Before I became a mother (and even after), I lived up my adult life the way I always wanted to when I was a kid. It still tickles me pink that I can buy as much gum and candy as I want. I can go wherever I want whenever I want and buy whatever I want. The child inside me is living through my adult self. That is literally how I feel. I feel like I am getting away with things. And how cool is it when I travel the world? How awesome is it to go away on a trip with my husband? Even better, how awesome is it to be a mom and take my child on trips?!

I feel like the child inside of me is constantly bouncing up and down with glee at the freedom of being an adult. That child was made even happier with the addition of my daughter because now she has a playmate.

Don't get me wrong, I am not one of those parents who is more concerned with being my child's friend than being a parent. There are still rules, and discipline is handed down when necessary. I am still a mom, and I take that role very seriously. It is my responsibility to ensure my children grow up to be decent, caring, compassionate, contributing members of society, and that cannot be done if I am too busy being the friend and not the parent. It's just that I really enjoy being silly with my daughter.

I realized after some pondering that the reason I thought being an adult would mean being stodgy is because that is how I view my mother. So of course I would think that my role model mother is how being an adult and parent would be. Man am I glad it isn't! I enjoy life so much! I ended up being so little like my mother and more like my dad who has always been a kid at heart too.

Even more to my delight, being in the workforce isn't as stodgy as I thought it would be either. I always figured that being a professional in a professional job would be all seriousness, memos, boringness, and business suits. Again, I love that it is completely different. The people I work with are every bit as much kids at heart as I am. We love jokes and pranks and dirty jokes. We enjoy going to lunch together and laughing till our cheeks hurt. Our faces light up when we see candy and we eat it like it's going out of style. We get giddy at the sight of donuts. It is actually fun. Work isn't the seriousness and dullness I thought it would be. It is almost the exact opposite.

I bought a magnet last week that said, "If you didn't know how old you were, how old would you be?" My answer is 22. How old are you?

The Hardest Part

I always know that within about 7-10 days of dropping down another 5mg on my antidepressants that I will have withdrawal symptoms. Its like clockwork. Who knew that going off such a simple medication could be so difficult and take so long?

I always know that within 7-10 days I will start to get agitated, maybe a little depressed and hopeless. I know my patience will be thin. I also know that as my body adjusts to making up for what the medication isn't doing anymore, it will get better and I will be back to my old self again soon. It just really sucks during those few days while my brain figures it all out.

Friday morning I read that the oldest Du.ggar boy is expecting his second child. I was so angry. "Of course they're pregnant again! Why wouldn't they be? They're Super Fertile! I bet they tried once and she got knocked up. Honestly, I'm surprised it took this long." I tried to calm myself down. I don't know why I was getting so worked up in the first place.

At lunch I told my friend J about it, and I felt like I was ready to pop my top. I was so angry. EVERYONE is pregnant right now. EVERYONE... except me. Of course. Of course I have to fight with everything I have to get pregnant again. Of course I have to spend crap tons of money on surgeries, doctor appointments, tests, OPKs, and everything else you can think of to be a mother. While some people look into their lover's eyes and get pregnant in that star twinkle moment.

Then I laughed.

I am just finishing a visit from AF (which has already lasted NINE DAYS, mind you [going on TEN tomorrow]). Isn't PMS supposed to happen BEFORE Af visits?

Then it hit me.

I dropped my dose a week ago.

Suck.

I am going to be like this for about another week while I adjust. I don't like this stage. I don't like being angry. I don't like feeling this way. And unfortunately, there isn't anything I can do about it but wait it out. I can recognize why I feel this way, and that is all fine and dandy, but it doesn't restore my patience, and it doesn't mend my angry heart when I think about the fact that I'm not pregnant yet. It doesn't help keep me from feeling bitter and resentful.

This is really the only time I can't handle the fact that I am not pregnant yet, when I'm going through withdrawals. You wouldn't think 5mg would make that much of a difference, but it really does. It almost makes me spiral downward in every aspect too. I'm angry and bitter that I'm not pregnant, which knocks my patience levels down a few notches, which makes me angry that I have no patience, which knocks my patience level down a few more notches, and on and on it goes. Down, down, down.

I snap at the stupidest things. Things that I normally wouldn't even think twice about. I just feel discontented and angry.

But, I know it will pass. I know that by this time next week, I'll be back on the upswing of things. Back to where I should be. Full of hope and brimming with patience. I just need to get through the next couple of days.

Thank heaven I only have to go through withdrawals three more times before I am free. I just pray that I don't get PPD again because this has been really difficult. Hopefully next time will be different. Sometimes, heredity sucks.

Awww Crap!

Friends, I am so majorly behind on blogs. Time and life have gotten away from me. I fully intend to catch up with everyone over this weekend. Please know I haven't forgotten about any of you, or my own blog, for that matter. I'm still here. I'm still alive. I'm coming back. I promise.

SORRY I've been missing so much!

Another New Branch

I have decided this blog is going to become my TMI outlet. Sometimes I feel the need to talk about things that everyone IRL doesn't really need to know, but I also want to know if anyone else in the blogosphere has had these issues, or I want to document them for future just in case I ever wonder if these things have happened before.

So, on with the TMI!

Okay, we all know I had surgery 5 months ago to repair a weekend spot in my uterus due to a uterine rupture when my daughter was born, right? Well, if you didn't you do now. If you didn't know that, I am also going to tell you that weakened spot was the result of a uterine septum removal gone bad a few years ago.

Anyway. So occasionally, I will spot randomly. I THINK it is because that spot is still really mad. Like if I have a particularly obstinate BM, it isn't unlikely for me to spot a little afterward. If things get a little too hot and heavy in the bedroom, it also isn't unlikely for me to spot a bit afterward.

Six days ago I got my positive OPK. DH and I had been doing the BD since the day before, and for three days following. So for four days, we BD'ed. The first three days I was fine afterward. After the fourth day, I bled and spotted. No biggie. But then I kept spotting. And kept spotting. And it wasn't just a little bit. It was like the kind of spotting some of us get the day before AF rears. The kind that makes you think it might be time to start riding the cotton pony.

I am now 5dpo and still spotting. Yesterday was the worst. I seriously started to wonder if AF was going to rear really, really early. I didn't realize it until later, but I was so concerned, I was wound tighter than a banjo string. It wasn't until I snapped at my husband yesterday night and then broke down into tears that I realized just how much it was bothering me.

I have been trying to calm myself down (and so has my husband) by saying that maybe things were a little too much that last night we tried, and maybe we just really pissed off that repair site. I don't want to call my doctor (either of them) to ask if this is okay and normal because I feel like they will think I'm overreacting or being silly. That and I don't want to be that patient. Especially since I just went in for a u/s the week before last to see if we could figure out why my last cycle was so wonky. My doctor just called me back with those results on Thursday and I bombarded her with questions. It turns out, she thinks I might have ovulated off both sides this month. Wouldn't that be nice? Two chances!

I have also come to the realization that if I do get pregnant any time soon, I will most likely spot throughout the pregnancy because of a cranky uterus. When I think about that, it makes me wonder if I really am physically healed enough and ready for a pregnancy, so maybe I should call my doctors and ask them.

Sometimes trying to get pregnant month after month after month just plain sucks. Before you take that the wrong way, realize I had to try for a couple of years, complete with treatments, before I got my daughter, so I am no newbie to this TTC thing. I'm not one of those silly women who cries because I tried for three whole months and didn't get pregnant. I am an infertile woman who is crying because we weren't allowed to even think about trying for another baby until 3 months ago and now my body decides to be all jacked up again. Grrrr!

At any rate, I should find out tomorrow whether or not I even ovulated this month. For some reason the OPKs I've been using for the last two cycles are just as stupid as my last two cycles. Since I wasn't completely 100% positive on that "as dark as" line this month, I did a progesterone test on CD21. I only have 7 more days in my TWW--if I ovulated, that is. If I'm not pregnant, I will consider telling my dr's about what happened this month, as tomorrow will be the 6th day I've been spotting.

Infertility sucks!

Nothing

I thought it had been a lot longer since my last post. It feels like its been ages, but really it has only been about 5 days. There has been absolutely nothing blog-worthy going on in my life lately. In fact, if you follow my other blog you know that I have been taking a break from the blogs. Not just the blogs, but everything that involves reading because my eyes have been driving me nuts lately. They keep trying to tell me they are strained, so I end up feeling like I'm going cross-eyed and then it makes the bridge of my nose ache. Weird, I know.

I did learn a valuable lesson over the weekend: Don't leave your front door open for extended periods of time.

When I got home on Friday my husband took my daughter out front to play in the tree swing. It was a pleasant day, so I left the door open. More because I wasn't really thinking about it than anything else. It stayed open for probably a good 30 minutes or so before I closed it because a storm front was blowing up from the south, which means high humidity. Yuck!

The next morning my husband got up with the baby to let me sleep in. As they were heading down stairs for breakfast, a little sparrow that had apparently flown in when the door was open the night before started to excitedly try to fly out the window in our stairwell in an attempt to escape. My daughter squealed with delight and my husband laughed. He opened the front door, and the bird eventually figured out how to get out of the house and back out to freedom.

Later that night we were all sitting in the family room watching TV after a long day of shopping and housework when my husband announced that there was an Anole (lizard) crawling across the floor. Sure enough, there was the little fella scuttering across my rug. We all laughed as my husband tried to catch the lizard. At one point, the silly thing ran up my husband's leg. He eventually caught him, and the Munchkin got to pet his head before he was put back outside to freedom just like the bird.

Other than that, life has been boring. Same old, same old. Waiting for ovulation, which apparently decided to come later this month than the last two months, but closer to when I normally ovulate.

So unless I have something really cool to update on, don't be surprised if I go quiet for a bit. It isn't because anything is wrong, its because nothing is going on.

Self Preservation

A day or so before I went to see the Shrink, I was working through the thoughts in my head around trying for another baby. It feels as though I change my mind every 5 minutes.

My husband just got offered a new job over the weekend, and the potential is amazing. It makes a great deal of money and comes with some great perks. In addition to that, we have been working very diligently the last few months to get out of unnecessary debt, which will all be gone by Christmas. We have a time share that we bought on our second wedding anniversary that allows us to travel anywhere in the world. We've been married for 5 years now and have only used it once: to go to Cayman when I was 5 months pregnant.

With the end of our debt in view and his amazing new position, we were talking the other day about being able to actually use our timeshare. We will be able to afford to both financially and in paid time away from work. This then led me into a discussion, more with myself than my husband, about do we really want to try for another baby right now with this new option available to us? I mean, we have adapted well to being a family of three, and there is very little we want to do that we can't because we have a baby. Sure we don't want to take long 8-hour flights to Europe with a baby, but we can certainly handle a flight that is only a few hours to luxurious beach.

Add to that, Saturday night I took the Munchkin to a Pumpkin Patch with one of my best friends and her two little boys. My daughter was very well-behaved at the PP, but at dinner afterward, she was getting out her excess energy before bedtime, and I was constantly trying to keep up with her to keep her from making messes, throwing things, grabbing things she shouldn't, etc. On the drive home after dinner, I took a deep breath and exhaled as I thought, "Can I even handle more?" I seriously considered keeping us a family of three, but guilt instantly took over. Like that deep down, I have hurt and betrayed someone guilt. I said out loud, "Fine! I'll have more, but you have to make them come easier than this!"

As I thought more about my waffling, I realized I am in self-preservation mode. If I say I don't want any more, then I take the stress and the demand off of myself. I don't have to care if I don't get pregnant every month because I don't really want anymore anyway, right?

Ha!

Of course I want more! I want more more than anything!

In talking my feelings over with my husband he tells me his answer will never change: it is all up to me. He wants more, but he doesn't want more at the expense of what I want or don't want. If I can't handle going through the heartbreak of trying again and all of the stress and trauma it brings into my life, then he is okay with what we have. If I want more more than anything, he will be here to do his part. Above all, he will be here to support me no matter what I decide.

At the end of the conversation I told him that it didn't matter what I said from one minute to the next because we both knew I wanted more. He agreed. I also said that we had to try every month no matter how I felt about things that month because I didn't want to get 6 months down the road and regret that we hadn't been trying. He agreed. I'm not getting any younger, I have endo AND PCOS, and if I don't take the chance every month, I could regret it because the choice could be taken from me again. He decided not to answer to that one -- self preservation on his part.

The bottom line is, we will keep trying no matter what. In the meantime, I will keep seeing the Shrink and doing what I can to help make it happen.

Going Back

I called my Shrink today for the first time in months. I haven't seen or talked to her since April. I wasn't sure if I would be able to get back at TTC without having to see her, but I hoped. Not that I don't like her, cause I adore her. I just hoped I was strong enough after everything I had been through to go it on my own.

I find that as I am still slowly easing my way off of the antidepressants, some days are worse than others. Most notably after I drop my dose another 5 mg. I have come to know exactly what to expect and when to expect it when I step down another 5 mg. If my doctor's 6 week plan to get me off the meds had worked, I would have been off them by the middle of September, but as it stands, I am only at half my full dose. It has been so much harder coming off of them than I ever imagined it could be.

I dropped my dose just over a week ago, and I knew then that within 7-10 days, I would start to feel blue for no reason, discontent for no reason, and slightly lethargic. It was like clockwork. Sadly, it happened to coincide with the appearance of AF after a wonky cycle, which makes things really hard for me right now.

Last month I did so great at not getting my hopes up and staying really zen about the whole TTC working or not working. That is, until I spotted at 5dpo and then every other day until AF showed, and then I started freaking out and wondering why the hell my cycle decided to be stupid the second cycle back in the game. My Infertile started screaming and shaking the bars of the cell that has held her captive the last two years. She's scared, and so am I. I don't want her back out. I don't want to relapse into that person. I have no right to relapse into that person. There is a beautiful, perfect little baby girl sleeping soundly on the other side of the wall behind me.

But old habits die hard.

Some things are so ingrained in us through pain that I don't think they will ever go away. They have turned into ugly scars. Even with a lot of work, they will always still be there.

I have been having a hard time since AF showed. I blame a lot of it on the drop in my meds. But I am aching and scared. I want so badly to be pregnant. It seems like everyone else around me is pregnant, even the people who shouldn't be. I'm not talking about they are crack whores who shouldn't be allowed to have children, I'm talking about they have medical issues and were told to wait, but they went ahead anyway. I hate the feelings I have inside when I see that woman. My Infertile wants to hate her, but *I* can't. Still, I can't seem to help the fact that I don't want to be around her, or that I have to force a small and even a nice hello. It.Is.So.Hard.

So last night I went to my husband and told him I wanted to go back to the Shrink. He seemed a little surprised and asked if there was anything he could do. I told him I just feel really off balance right now, and that I don't want to mess up our chances of getting pregnant because I can't relax. Because I am starting to freak out that things are all messed up in there again. Because I can't help wondering if we did fertilize an egg the last two months, but it implanted in my scar tissue and didn't make it, and is that going to happen for the rest of my fertile life, and if so, is there anything I can do about it.

Then I freak out about some bad news I just heard about a college roommate of mine that I won't repeat here because I don't want any of you freaking out, but it freaks me out.

I am just plain freaking myself out, and I can't do that. Not with trying to get pregnant again. FINALLY being able to try for another baby. I have to be able to put all of this anxiety aside, and the bottom line is, once again, this is bigger than me. I can't do it alone. And while I appreciate the love and support of my husband, family, and friends, they can't help me either. They don't truly understand. They can't say the right things. They can't ask the right questions. I don't know if my Shrink can either, but she sure has helped me in the past, and right now, I'm floundering. I'll grab a hold of any life preserver thrown my way that will help me float and swim to shore.

I seriously love this blog. I could never in a million years write these things on my primary blog, and they just flow through my fingers here. I am always able to exactly express how I feel, and it is so soothing.

It is hard to find myself on familiar ground, on this familiar ground. I am trying so hard to let it go, but it has wrapped it's chains around me, and every time I think I'm free, it pulls me back in. I can't wait to sit on that leather couch and let everything flow next week. I really need this.

I'm Trying

Have you ever in a Bitter Infertile moment just wanted to pee on every OPK and pregnancy test in your cupboard? It's like your way of giving the universe and your fertility the bird for gifting you with a visit from AF, instead of with a BFP. Well, I did, so I did. Except I only peed on 9 OPKs and no pregnancy tests.

You know what? It felt good to waste those buggars. Partly because they were in a 20-pack and I am pretty dang sure it was a bum pack, as I never got a positive test and I know I ovulated, but also because I have always wanted to do that out of anger and frustration for another failed cycle.

I did learn one thing from this past cycle, never waste your money on name brand OPKs. I have used name brand OPKs twice (not the same brand, mind you) and had horrible results with both. Neither of them worked. But those store-brand cheapies have never failed me. Not once.

If you read my other blog, you know that this past cycle was crazy and all over the place. I spotted at 5dpo, but the bitter, resentful infertile in me kept my feet on the ground and went straight for the worst possible scenario: it must be low progesterone. Crap.

Now, I am normally a very positive person, but when it comes to my fertility, that is where my exception lies, and it is simply because it feels like anything that can go wrong with me there, does. I realize this next statement sounds bitter, but I mean it in the most positive way possible. I am grateful that my infertility has robbed me of hope when it comes to getting pregnant because I never get my hopes up only to have them dashed when AF shows up.

So when I got my spotting, my first thought was low progesterone. For a fleeting and very brief moment, I thought it could be implantation bleeding, but that thought was snuffed ASAP. The spotting stopped completely by the next day... but the day after that, it was back. And so it went until two days before AF was due, spotting one day and not the next. Then two days before AF, it decided not to stop.

I ended up going into my OB trying to get some answers. She ran a bunch of blood work that all came back negative (AKA - BFN) or normal, and did a pap along with an internal exam. We're going to do a sono in a couple of weeks just to rule out fibroids.

It amazes me that no matter how "okay" I feel about things before AF shows, I am so bitter and hurt when she actually does. I go into each month thinking it doesn't matter if it doesn't work this time. When I'm in the TWW, I don't get my hopes up because I just can't. But somehow, when AF knocks on my door, I can't stand seeing pregnant women for the next couple of days. I can't handle pregnancy announcements. I flinch at all things pregnancy-related. I change TV shows off that have pregnant women in them.

It only lasts for a couple of days, and then I am back to myself. Happy for those who are expecting, excited for those who just got BFPs, unphased by anything pregnancy-related, and not even taking note of pregnant women on TV.

Those bitter feelings always catch me completely off guard. I didn't feel them in the moments when I just knew I wasn't pregnant, but as soon as my thoughts are confirmed, I turn into Dr. Je.kyl. Like a werewolf at a full moon. I would try to fight them, but why? They are natural, and they need to run their course. Not only that, but I know if I just let them come, I will be fine in a day or so.

I know that no matter how long it takes, I will have at least one more baby. That is where I find my comfort when I lose a cycle. It is only a matter of time before I get a BFP. Until then, I am sticking to store-brand OPKs and enjoying my laugh at peeing on 9 FR OPKs at once.

Crazy

There is a cat that lives three houses down from me who in the dim night light looks exactly like my kitty who just passed away. He has lived there the whole time we have been in our house, which is just over 2.5 years now. He has never let me pet him before. He usually looks at me for a minute and then runs away. I am not sure if that is because he is afraid I will let my dogs loose on him because that is what my husband does every time he sees him in our yard.

Before I go on, I have to say my husband lets the dogs loose because he thinks the cat defecates near our front door and makes our house smell like a litter box in the hot summer heat.

Back to our story.

Every time I saw the kitty, I had to do a double take because I knew he wasn't my cat, but he sure did look like him. It was the epitome of surreal, especially in the low night light.

Last night I was making banana nut bread while my husband was giving our daughter a bath and getting her ready for bed. Half way into putting flour in the mixer, I realized I didn't have enough and would have to run to the grocery store. I walked out the front door and stopped short.

The kitty who looked like mine was laying near the front of my husband's truck.

I just sat there and stared at him, frozen, while my brain tried to remind me it was the neighbor's cat. He looked me in the eyes for a second, and then gingerly walked over to me and started rubbing on my legs.

I leaned down to pet him and said my cat's name. He started to purr.

He looked exactly like my cat. His fur was the same texture and fell in the same way my cat's did when I would pet him. It was orange and cream in all the same places. His purr sounded exactly like my cat's. When my kitty was really in Lovely mode, he would almost chirp, or hum while he purred. This kitty did that exact same thing.

I sat down on the driveway, legs crossed, as I appreciate this cat. I talked to him as if he were mine, and I told my kitty I loved him and missed him. I rubbed him the way my cat liked to be rubbed, and scratch his neck where my cat liked to be scratched. He liked it too.

After a while I stood up to go. I thanked him for letting me pet him and told him to come see me again soon.

Isn't it amazing how God has a way of delivering things into our lives the moment we need them?

I Should Learn

I should learn to dread fall, rather than be excited for it. I should learn that the cooler temperatures and the changing colors of the leaves signals ominous times ahead. Why, you ask? Well, let me lay it out for you:

• My first dog died the day of Thanksgiving when I was 8 years old.
• My next dog died the day after Thanksgiving when I was 22.
• My next dog died 5 years ago today, on October 5th, less than a month after I got married.
• Yesterday, my dad had to put down my 14-year-old cat.

It seems that my animals like to go within a day of each other, only years apart. It further seems that they all like to go in the fall.

I blogged about the loss of my cat on my other blog. In it I talked about the time we shared together that spanned 14 years, yet felt all to brief. My cat was the most amazingly wonderful, lovey cat ever, and it has been so hard for me to let him go, even though he hasn't lived with me for the last 5 years. He has been living with my parents in the only home he has ever known.

Since this blog is all about expressing my feelings, I need to get some of my thoughts and emotions out about losing my "Mowie".

I was on the phone with my dad while the vet put my cat down. I got to tell him goodbye and that I loved him before he passed on. I sobbed like my heart was being rent in two, because it felt like it was. Shortly after my cat had died, I went home from work for the day. I was completely useless to anyone there afterward.

Usually when I get home, Sadie is always at the front door to great me. Maggie hangs back and waits for a bit before coming forward for some hello loves. But yesterday, as soon as I opened the door, Maggie was pushing her way in front of Sadie to get to me. Tears were streaming down my face, and I let the loud sobs come at will. I threw down all of my belongings and sat down on the floor where Mags curled up in my lap and whined gently with me.

I sat there for a long time, just letting the tears and the pain flow before I was overcome with the desire to find pictures of my Mowie to scan for the blog so I could write up a tribute. Even though I was already exhausted from my crying, I had to see pictures of my kitty.

As I sat there, looking at each photo, I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that I couldn't simply reach into the picture and pet his soft head, stroke his soft paw, or hear him purr. I would never cuddle him again.

After I had pulled a handful of pictures to scan, I decided I needed a nap. I had a headache from all of the crying, and I was exhausted. I fell into the most fitful sleep I have had in a long time. I woke violently constantly. I would have dreams I was falling, or that terrible things were happening to me.

When I did finally get up from my nap, I kept looking to my dresser where the ashes of my last dog are contained in a box. I kept expecting to see my cat's ashes there next to hers already, and I kept expecting to see a light next to it, like a lamp shining down on the two of them, but there is no lamp on the dresser. There never has been. It was like I could not form coherent thoughts through my grief.

The grief seemed to come at me in waves. One moment I would be fine, and the next I would just start sobbing unexpectedly. Shortly after my husband and daughter got home, we finished eating dinner and the tears started to gently roll down my cheeks. I looked over at my daughter, and I have never seen such a sad expression on her face before. She looked at me with concern as she said, "What's wrong?" My 20-month-old daughter was concerned for me and honestly asked me what was wrong. Not even just once, but multiple times. It looks like she will have my empathy. God bless her heart.

After dinner I forced myself to go on a walk. I didn't want to take the dogs, but I did because Mags had not left my side all day, and she deserved to enjoy a walk after keeping such a watchful eye on me. I walked so fast. Like I was trying to run away from something. I walked hard, as if I was determined to leave it behind me. But all along the walking trail, my grief stayed right by my side while my daughter kept calling, "Kitty, where are you?" She did that randomly, and on her own. That's right sweetie, "Kitty, where are you?"

That night I thought for sure I would fall easily to sleep, so for the first time in over a year, I didn't bother taking my melatonin. It was also the first night I was stepping down the dose of my antidepressants by another 5mg. I went to bed and read Twilight, while trying to temporarily take my mind off my grief once again. After one chapter, I decided to get some sleep. Usually I turn on the TV for a bit, and then set it on sleep mode so it will turn itself off after 20 minutes. But last night when I turned the light out after putting my book down, I sat in the cold, dark silence of my room with Mags snuggled up to me and the only sound being the sweet chirping of crickets. I didn't want to disturb the peace. I thought for sure I would drift off easily to sleep.

At 1:00, two hours after I had stopped reading my book, I was still wide awake, tossing and turning. I haven't had trouble falling asleep for years. Why now? What this night? I was exhausted. My head ached from all my crying. I just wanted to sleep. It eluded me and left me to my sadness. Finally I turned on the TV and set it to turn off in 20 minutes. Shortly after it turned off, I started to doze. As I did, I noticed tears were collecting in my eyes on their own.

I miss my kitty.

I love you puddlepuss.

How Happy Are You?

I read this article on Yahoo today and couldn't help but want to post and pass it on. Apparently I am a pretty happy person. :D

Your emotional well-being isn’t just about your genes or the kind of home you were raised in. It turns out that some pretty interesting factors—backed by science—play a role in how joyful you feel:

You were a smiley student

Adults with the biggest grins in their college yearbook pictures were up to 5 times less likely to be divorced decades later than those who looked less happy, according to a new DePauw University study. A smiler’s positive disposition may attract other happy people or rub off on a spouse.

You have a sister

People with at least one female sibling report better social support, more optimism, and better coping abilities, according to a study presented at the British Psychological Society’s annual conference. Sisters appear to encourage communication and cohesion in families.

You're not glued to the TV

The happiest people spend 30% less time parked in front of the tube, according to a University of Maryland study that analyzed 34 years of data from more than 45,000 Americans. They’re more likely to spend time socializing, reading, or attending religious services—habits that are linked to better moods and health.

You keep souvenirs on display

People who use mementos or photos to remind themselves of good times better appreciate their lives and are happier, says Sonja Lyubomirsky, PhD, a professor of psychology at University of California, Riverside. Good memories remind you of your “happiness potential” and promise that soon you can reach it again.

You make exercise a priority

People who exercise more are less likely to be stressed and more likely to be satisfied with life, according to Danish researchers. Compared with sedentary people, joggers are 70% less likely to have high stress levels and life dissatisfaction, the study found. Couch potatoes who start moderate exercise—the equivalent of 17 to 34 minutes a day—experience the greatest happiness lift.

You have a healthy love life

Physical intimacy is a key contributor to happiness, found a study by Dartmouth economist David Blanchflower, PhD, and Andrew Oswald, PhD, of England's University of Warwick. Married people report 30% more sex than singles, which may be one reason they also report being happier.

You hang out with happy people

Socializing with a cheerful person in your neighborhood increases the likelihood that you’ll be happy too, according to a new study. How often you get together matters most, say the researchers: People who live within half a mile of a buoyant buddy increase their odds of being happy by 42%. If the friend lives farther away (within a 2-mile radius), the chances drop to 22%—probably due to fewer get-togethers.

You stay warm with hot cocoa

Clutching a steaming beverage—coffee and tea also do the trick—can elicit a flood of positive feelings, according to a Yale University study. This may be because people associate physical warmth with emotional warmth, say the researchers. Study subjects held cups of either hot or iced coffee; those gripping warm mugs were more appreciative of friendliness in others and also felt more generous and trusting themselves.

You have two best friends

Among 654 married adults, those who said they had at least two “best friends” (not necessarily including one’s spouse) were likelier to have better mental well-being, says a study. But additional friends didn’t lead to any more happiness than just a pair.

Skunk?

I have decided not to take my daughter on long grocery shops with me anymore because she gets bored, impatient, and therefore fussy. It was ideal to be able to pick her up from daycare and hit the store on the way home from work when needed, but that was a bad idea, as the Munchkin is usually ready for a drink and a snack after being picked up.

It got to the point a couple of times where I would grab a bag of cheese sticks in the store, open them up, peel one out, and give it to her just to keep from being "that mom and baby." You know the one I'm talking about. The ones where you know their exact location because of the screaming baby. I decided after multiple instances of being that mom that it was easier for me to go after Munchkin goes to bed.

Last night was one such night. A major grocery shop was in order, so there was no way I as going to take her with me. I waited until she went to bed, and then headed out. I first ran over to Targae to see if I could find her some new shoes for fall/winter. Right now she only has two pair of sandals, which aren't conducive to keeping feet warm on cold days. She also needed some long pants because all she currently has are shorts, which thanks to her Buddha Belly are even getting a little too tight (she is 19 months and they are 24-month shorts).

The sun had long gone down by the time I got in my car, and I couldn't help but want to enjoy the cool fall air, so I rolled down my windows. It was at the intersection by Targae that something smelled amiss. It was like a skunk, and maybe something burning. It was foul. It followed me all of the way into the parking lot and made me wonder if if was my car. But once I got out and walked into the store, I realized it wasn't my car because the smell was everywhere, even in the store.

I did my shopping and then headed out to do the major shop at the grocery store. When I came back out of Targae, the smell was still there. I was glad I was driving away from it as I got into my car. But when I got to the grocery store, I could still smell it.

Was it possible the smell had wafted over to this store too, or was it my car, or was it ON my car?

I took my time doing my grocery shopping and went over my budget by double, but that is what happens when you run out of everything all at once. When I came back out to my car, it still smelled a little, but not anywhere near as much... until I opened my car door. It smelled like a skunk had crawled in and let loose!

I started wondering if I had even seen a skunk or road kill on my way to Targae and had no recollection. I must have driven through something though. I drove home with all of my windows down in an attempt to air it out, and then I left them cracked over night in hopes the smell would be gone over night.

No dice. This morning my car still smelled like I had brought home a pet skunk last night. It has stunk all day, even though I keep leaving the windows down. I don't know what to do about it. Obviously the stink got up in my engine compartment somehow. It flat out reeks! I wonder how long I will have to drive around with my windows down before it goes away?

The First Time We Met

Side note: This post isn't about my husband, but rather the first and only love I have had besides my husband.

It was late in January, somewhere around the 27th. I was 17 years old, and only a few weeks away from turning 18. I had signed up to go to an Honor Band program at a distant state university with a few other kids from my high school. It would be the last year I would be able to go, as I was in my senior year.

I had gone the year before, and truth be told, I wished I hadn't the first day I was there that year because I felt like my band teacher had ripped me off by recommending me for third trumpet, instead of second, which is what I had played my whole trumpeting career. I remember being there that first day, mad as a fire ant, and wishing I hadn't come.

By the end of the first day, I was glad I had gone because I was smitten with my stand partner. A senior at a high school in Nevada named Selwyn. The program was only for a weekend, but there was a bond created between us in that short time. We exchanged addresses and promised to stay in touch by the time it was over. He sent me a graduation announcement later that year. Over the summer, I received a few post cards and letters from Selwyn as he traveled about the country. It turned out he was planning to attend the university that hosted the honor band program that coming fall.

As soon as we were able to sign up for the honor band program my senior year, my name was at the top of the list. The only real reason I wanted to go was so that I could hook it up with Selwyn. I just knew we were going to see each other, fall in love, and the rest would be history. A story for our children.

The day we arrived for the first rehearsal, I looked around anxiously for him. My friend Elisa knew why I was there, and she was just as excited for me as I was. She and I had become very close friends that year, and spent a lot of time together. She had helped put the kibosh in my inner prude, and helped me realize I was a girl who wanted more than just innocent kissing.

Soon enough I found the man I was there to see. My expectations were only let down by my own inability to accurately portray how I felt and why I was there. I was suddenly shy and felt like I was testing the waters. The truth is, Selwyn only showed up to the rehearsal to see me. That should have been my first indication he felt the same way I did, but high school girls are so silly and insecure.

I don't really remember what happened with Selwyn that day after the rehearsal ended, but I do remember that Elisa had invited her stand partner and his best friend back to our hotel that night to hang out. She was the epitome of a flirt. I learned a lot from her. That night, Rick and Nick showed up at our hotel to take us to dinner. Elisa had claimed Rick for herself and reserved Nick for me. Nick was cute and all, but I secretly wanted Rick. He had blonde hair that was cut in the fashionable 90s "bowl cut" and the most gorgeous blue, blue eyes I had ever seen. He was tall, and he smelled so good. He wore black army-style boots that put me in dither.

It turned out, I was in luck. Rick decided he liked me better than Elisa, and Nick and Elisa decided they liked each other better as well, so a swap took place. We spent the rest of the night chatting and enjoying each other's company until our chaperons told the boys to hit the road. Just because they weren't in our room didn't mean we couldn't still talk on the phone until the wee hours of the morning!

The next morning, I was torn. I still wanted to be with Selwyn, but I was developing feelings for Rick too. I was there for Selwyn gosh dang it, and I was going to keep it that way!

When I walked into the rehearsal hall, there was Selwyn, waiting to see me. I walked up to him, flirted, and talked, but not for long. Rick had seen me, and he wasn't having this other guy steal his woman away for the world. He came over and made it clear that he had staked his claim. Selwyn barely put up a fight. Before I knew it, the guy I had driven all that way to be with was gone from my life for good. However, I didn't feel like I had lost out at all. I saw it as fate.

That afternoon when we broke for lunch, Rick, Nick, Elisa, and I went to the grocery store to find some good old fashioned junk food to eat. It was while we were there that Rick told me if my hands were cold, I could put them in his pocket. My stomach did a flip, as I put my hand into his pocket where his warm hand was waiting. Our hands met, and flash of electricity went through me. It felt so good, and so right. I had no idea in that moment that I was holding hands with the first guy I would ever love.

Later that afternoon on a mini-break from rehearsal, Rick and I were sitting in a hallway, talking. I took his class ring from him, and as a joke, told him I wasn't going to give it back and he told me that was fine. I told him I was only joking, and offered his ring back. He told me to hang on to it for the remainder of the weekend. I was elated as I clutched it in my hand.

That night was our final performance, and the next day we would all be heading home. The four of us stayed together for as long as we could, before our chaperons reeled us into our respective hotels for the night. The boys promised to come back over first thing in the morning to tell us goodbye before we all went home.

The next morning, the boys showed up to our rooms right on time. Rick and I found a back stairwell where we sat and talked, and had our first kiss. I didn't know what to expect, but I figured the romance would, unfortunately, be short-lived. I thought that once we went our separate ways, things would fizzle out over the matter of a couple weeks because of the distance between us.

I offered him his ring back, and he told me to hang onto it, that he would come out to my house for it as soon as he could. He lived 3 hours from me, but I wasn't going to argue. I would take any excuse to be with him again, even if it was only one more time. I was happy that things would last at least that long between us. If I had his ring, he had to come get it. I promised to take care of it and not lose it. Then all too soon, he had to go, and we went our separate ways.

I drove home that day on Cloud 9. I didn't know where things would go with us, but for the moment, I was completely infatuated.

The second I got home, my dad asked me who Rick was. I was perplexed. How could he know about him already? Did one of my chaperons squeal on me? No. Rick had called three times already, and promised to call back again shortly. I was so giddy. There is nothing that compares to those feelings that pulse through you when you first meet and make a connection with the person who will become your significant other.

For now, things were fun and exciting and full of hope. Only time would tell where it would go.

Before We Begin

So, this was going to be the post to kick off the memoirs, but I decided I am not quite ready to write up that first post yet (I haven't mentally written enough of it in my head), and I wanted to share a couple of other things in the meantime.

First of all, Fran asked me if I was still going to blog about our progress on TTC #2 on this blog. The answer to that is, absolutely. If I have any news about that, I will definitely let you all know. The way I see it, this blog isn't going to change, it is just going to get better and more expansive. In fact, as I was sitting in a boring training the other day, I created this drawing of how I envision my blog:

As you can see, the roots of the tree are collecting blog content that feeds the tree with mostly day-to-day life, which then branches out into randomness, TTC, and memoirs. Yes, that is a stick figure of me sitting under my tree, blogging. And yes, there are squirrels and birds in my tree too.

I also wanted to share a few other random things with you in this post:

1. I found my first love on FB the other day. I had had a dream about him a few days prior, which got me to thinking about him and wondering where he was. When I saw his picture, my first thought was, "Boy did I dodge that bullet! You look like you live in a trailer and watch Je.rry Sprin.ger." Okay, the last part may be a bit harsh, but I really do feel like I dodged a bullet when things didn't work out between us and we didn't get married, as we had so often planned. Let me tell you, seeing his face made me even more grateful for the man I am married to now.
2. I know at least my blog friend Hannah is super excited about the new season of Glee, but I want to know who else is besides us? Hannah is actually the gal who got me to watching the show in the first place, and I have to say I love her for that. Glee rocks! The first episode of this season was no let down either. I am really excited for this season!
3. I am really, really sad that this season is the last season of Little People, Big World. I have been watching that show since it started 5 years ago. When I heard it was the final season, I got choked up and wanted to cry. I am really going to miss that show and feeling like I am a part of the Roloff family. I learned a lot about dwarfs and just how much they go through in daily life as well as in their lifetime. It has definitely given me a greater appreciation for them.
4. I watched a TV show a while ago that studied what happens to women during a full monthly cycle. They wanted to see how the woman's body changed over the span of a cycle. They found that a woman's complexion actually clears up around ovulation and that her skin looks its nicest around this time as well. Additionally, the pitch of her voice goes up a bit, and her scent changes. The latter is no surprise, as scent is what tells males in all species when a female is in heat. Ever since I watched that program, I have been watching my complexion to see if I notice a change around ovulation. This month it was my first indication that ovulation was nearing. It cleared up even before I got the lovely EWCM. It's not even just that it clears up, but the pores become more refined and less noticeable and the overall skin looks softer and smoother. Interesting huh?

Well, that's it for me. It's 11:30 and I am exhausted. Signing off for now!

A New Budding Branch

After much thinking over the past few years, and especially the past few months, I have decided this blog is going to take a new direction. Not completely, mind you, but a direction that will add to its repertoire and help me get out some of the thoughts and feelings that often swirl about inside me, begging to be written down for the sake of posterity.

Every now and then I will reminisce about my past, and a part of me longs to blog about it and then one day print the blog into a book, maybe for my children or maybe just for me. I have attempted many times in my past to write a book for myself, a memoir. Who of us in blogland haven't thought about doing that? All of our lives are interesting, and we all want to share them. So to scratch my itch, I will be doing posts every now and then to begin my memoirs about the important moments in my past that won't and aren't talked about in my daily life. After all, there is so much more to me than PPD, IF, and what happens in the current day.

This project isn't as much about readership and comments as it is for me to read over years from now when my already imperfect memories of these moments become fuzzy and start to fade. Heaven knows my memory has been lacking since I embarked on infertility treatments 4 years ago. All of those medicated cycles and synthetic hormones wreaked havoc on my once near pristine memory.

Case in point, I never needed a grocery list before I went through IF. I would simply remember what aisles I needed to visit when I went to the store. If I forgot what I needed, I would just go to the specific aisle because it would jog my memory. It always amazed my best friend. I never forgot a date or an appointment, even for other people. My husband used to ask me to remember things for him and remind him, and I always did. Now, however, it is a completely different story, and it's sad.

I do have the good fortune of scattered diary entries, which will make guest appearances along with pictures and letters.

I am quite looking forward to my new project. If nothing else, I will have a great time writing it all down.

It's Harder Than I Thought

I realized last night that I really am having a little PTSD now that I am back at TTC. Despite the fact that I have taken away the need to stress about getting pregnant, and the need to do everything in my power to make it happen short of using OPKs and timed intercourse, I am still a little shell shocked. The part of me that I didn't think would come back this time around, absolutely has.

You know how when you've been in the TTC ring for so long, you flinch when you see a pregnant belly, avert your eyes when you go past the maternity section, or want to throw things at the TV every time a pregnancy test commercial comes on? Well, paint a big red dot on the floor, because I'm there. The worst part is, I am really surprised I feel this way.

I am working on getting past these feelings because I don't want to own them anymore. I thought I left them at the door when I got pregnant over 2 years ago now. I honestly did not expect them to resurface, but holy cow, have they ever! It isn't even a conscious thing. It isn't until the thought has been thought that I realize my brain put it out there. Every time it does, I have to sort through it in an attempt to help it on its way and out of my life.

I don't like being the green eyed-monster. I don't like being a bitter infertile. I have no reason to be that person either. I already overcame my infertility and have a beautiful baby girl to show for it. So why then, does it hurt so much to see these things?

I guess it is just like how when that song you danced to at your Junior Prom comes on the radio, you get taken back to that time and place. You remember how you felt that night when this song came on and you looked your date in the eyes and told yourself it was a moment you would never forget. Only this time, the song stinks and it takes me back to a place and time in my life I would rather leave behind.

I know what I need to do right now. I need to move these feelings and use them for something else. They have served their purpose, which is to protect me from heartache. Now they need a new purpose. I haven't figured out what it is yet, but I will work on finding them a new home and soon.

See that! My blog is just as good as seeing a shrink and it doesn't cost me a dime!

Amatuer Doggie Agility

Remember in my last post how I said I had a cute idea for a blog post with my dogs? Well today the fam went to the local playground just so I could create the following "vlog" for all of you. I kept it short so you won't spend anymore time watching it than you would reading a post. Enjoy!

P.S. Please excuse my sniffles and dumb laugh. Either our household is going through major allergies, or we've all got colds. The jury is still out on that one.

Feeling the Love

Thank you ladies for making me feel so loved in my last post. I swear I wasn't trying to throw a pity party, but rather to say that I don't blog just for comments. They are a very nice added bonus to blogging, but they aren't the primary reason I do it. I just needed to remind myself why I'm here, so I did. It sounds to me that not only are most of us behind on blogs, but that a lot of us have experienced low comment levels lately. Fran brought up a great point when she reminded me it is sill summer in the Northern Hemisphere, so a lot of us are away from our computers a lot. I think all of us go through phases too, where we are constantly on the blogs and then when we're burned out. The bottom line is we are all always here for each other when we can be and that is all that matters.

I was going to do a post tonight about a belated case of the Mondays, but my To Do list wasn't cute or quarky because I haven't had much on my mind other than being in the TWW. During the only meeting I have had so far this week I mapped out when AF is due to help me determine the earliest date I could take a pregnancy test, which is next Tuesday or Wednesday. AF is due on Wednesday, but if my last pregnancy is any indication, I wouldn't get a positive until a couple days after AF is due. Of course, all babies are different and this one could kick out the hormones faster than the Munchkin did. I guess we'll see.

I don't know if I told you all, but I started talking to my BIL (aka MIL) again recently. If you missed that lovely post, you can read about it here, but you really don't have to. She is always true to form and a complete B to the last drop. Anyway, she read my blog post on the primary blog where I asked if anyone knew why I would ovulate early, so she decided to send me an email. Keep in mind, I am only 31. She told me that a shortened cycle was due to lack of estrogen, and that estrogen depletes as we get older and near menopause. She also told me that getting nooky helps to increase estrogen levels and then went into way too much detail about her own sexual past post-menopause. Seriously?! I know she was going for shock factor there, but come on lady! Have some class will you?

I emailed her back and basically told her to shut her pie hole. Never talk to an infertile about monthly cycles! Its like talking to an accountant about taxes when you don't have any idea what you're talking about (which she does to her accountant sister). I put her in her place and then told her what my doctor said about all of my symptoms being an indication of high fertility.

She didn't email me back.

Good girl.

Now leave me alone.

I just love how she says I am overly sensitive and take everything she says the wrong way. No, no I'm not. I know exactly how she means it, and she means it exactly how I take it. She is just super manipulative, and I'm not falling for it or having it.

Have I mentioned I loathe this woman?

My husband told me tonight that his mother probably was menopausal at my age thanks to all her years of recreational drugs and binge drinking. He said when she was 31 she looked like she was 50, had no hair, had no teeth, and was single. I guess she is just trying to bring me down to make herself feel better. Too bad for her I'm neither weak, nor stupid. She is the only one who feels bad for her.

I don't want to leave you all with a bad taste in your mouth, so I will finish this post with something else. I just needed to get that off my chest, as this is cheap therapy.

I have the cutest post idea, and I am hoping to put it together this weekend. All I will say is that it involves my fabulous dogs doing what they do best. I learned this past weekend that I am not doing one of them any favors by not getting her into agility, and now I am really thinking about it. It will require an initial investment for equipment and a bit of time, but I think the enjoyment all of us will get out of it will be so beyond worth it. So stay tuned for a post that will make you smile and laugh. :)

Boring?

Am I a boring blogger lately? I can't help but notice I get traffic to the blog, but no one leaves comments anymore. I have to be honest and say it makes me a bit sad. I mentioned it to my friend J last week and said maybe it is time to shut this blog down. Then I got to thinking about it, and my next statement to her was that this blog isn't about getting comments. Its about me being able to write out my thoughts and feelings that I don't feel I can express on my primary blog. Admittedly, I do post things on this blog that I would post on the primary one, I just feel like I need to do fun things on this one every now and then too. So whether or not this blog gets 5 hits or 50 million hits a day, no comments or a hundred comments, it is going to stay because I need this blog to help me heal.

Now that all of that is out of the way, I wanted to let you all know that I am officially in my first TWW for the first time in over two years. I am really excited and I feel really good about things. I feel positive, and am praying that my positivity is because my intuition is right. I won't know until the end of the week at the earliest. I just hope and pray there is a little embie making its way down the fallopian tube right now.

Things on the antidepressant front are going well too. I moved my dose back up to 30mg a week and a half ago and have leveled off nicely. I am back to where I was on the 40mg dose. I am every bit as happy and content with no mood swings, depression, or other weirdness. I do get a little dizzy from time to time, which is normal and is about the only symptom I have had since I boosted the dose back up. I will try stepping down to 20 this week and see how things go. I am sure I will have to re-equilibriate on that dose, but I know now what to expect and about how long it should last. I am confident that I will be able to be off the meds within the next 6 or so weeks.

Well, its late and I am really sleepy, so I'm off to bed. Night ya'll!

Her Hidden Past

I wasn't sure if it was okay for me to be posting about my relationships before my husband on my blog, so I asked my best friend J. She said it was cool to post my funny stories on this blog, seeing as it's anonymous, but not on my primary one. I have been waffling for some time about doing it, and have been wanting to, so I will. Just don't tell DH. ;)

I believe that every woman's past makes her who she is. Her past relationships are sometimes her dark, hidden secrets that make her smile oh so mysterious and are rarely talked about. They are what is behind the curtain. Sometimes those stories are just too rich to not share. One day I will share all of my stories with my daughter when she grows up so that she can know her mother really did live before she met her father, got married, and started her family. I like to think that my past might one day help my daughter make good decisions because she knows her mother has been there and done that and can give her wise advice. I will also delight in seeing the smile on her face when I tell her about some of the cutest stories, or laugh when I tell her about some of the dumber guys.

It was through dating that I was able to weed out the qualities I didn't want in a husband and find the man I did want to unquestionably spend the rest of my life with. Each and every guy who came and went through my life was an integral part of who I am today and the relationship I have with my husband. I often think back over those relationships and laugh at the silliness, the stupidity, and definitely the drama.

I wanted to tell you one story in particular, but it is already 11:30 here and I should be in bed. Not only that, but the story would make this post way too long. So instead, I will tell you about my all-time favorite kiss. No, it wasn't with my husband, although he has had some chart toppers. Again, don't tell him!

A couple months before I met my husband, I was dating a guy we'll call James. I had met him at church and was instantly attracted to him. He was built like a big farm boy, burly, with reddish hair and freckles. He was reserved and sweet. Being the lioness I was, I found and stalked my prey until I had won my prize.

From the moment we started dating, I vowed to take things slow with this guy. I didn't want to rush through all the firsts, as those are the most thrilling part of a new relationship (and my favorite). I also decided to let him do things on his terms. In other words, I was going to let him make all of the first moves.

We had been dating for two weeks and James and I still had not kissed. We went on a date one weekend, and he took me home afterward. He was the perfect gentleman and walked me up to my front door. We hugged for a bit and said the usual, "I had a good time" jazz. I waited for him to kiss me, but he didn't. I could tell he wanted to, but he was too chicken to just go for it. Since I had promised myself I wouldn't make the first move, I just smiled to myself and enjoyed the intensity of the anticipation. He finally told me good night, turned, and walked down the sidewalk to his truck. I stood on the door step smiling as I watched him go, wondering when he would make his move. Just then he stopped at the end of the sidewalk, turned around, came back, and gave me the sweetest, most gentle, yet passionate kiss ever.

I will never forget that kiss. I had never been kissed like that before, and I had never had a guy walk away, kicking himself so much for not kissing me that he actually turned around and came back to do the job. It was pure magic.

Slacker!

I have been a major blog slacker lately and I have no excuse other than that it is summer and a zillion degrees here, which turns my brain to mush. I signed up for ICLW thinking, "Surely I can comment on six blogs a day." I hate myself right now. I can't even keep up with the blogs I follow. What was I thinking? I am, however, able to at least comment back on bloggers who stop by. I will make a huge attempt to read up this weekend.

Have any of you in the US heard of a site called Gro.upon? My husband joined this site last year because they have daily deals for attractions around your area. For example, there was a dinner theater here that was selling tickets to a show for 60% off the original cost. You could only get the deal by buying the Gro.upon through the website. Each deal usually lasts only a day. Sometimes stipulations are placed on the deal, such as at least 30 people have to buy in or the deal is off. My husband bought my laser hair removal through one of these babies (which, by the way is going awesome; I know I'm weird because the laser doesn't hurt, it tickles--at the highest setting).

While we were at work today, DH sent me a link to the deal of the day, which happened to be a class on speed reading. At first I thought it was stupid and wondered if he was serious. Then I looked into the website for the company offering the class and realized I could use speed reading to get through my blogs in half the time it normally takes me, which means I could keep up, which means I could quit feeling guilty when I can't keep up, which means I won't avoid the blogs because I know I am so far behind I will never catch up. Whoa! Sign me up baby! See that, I'm always thinking about my blogs. lol

I'm hoping he bought the deal. I can't tell you how appealing it sounds to me, not only for blogging purposes, but because I want a Kin.dle for Christmas. Do you know how many books I could read?! The company also guarantees that you don't lose comprehension by speed reading, it just helps you read faster so you can read more. I like that idea.

If he actually did sign us up, I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes. :)

Getting to Know You

Hello to all of you who are visiting for ICLW, and for those of you who are returning visitors. I thought instead of giving you a blah, blah, blah post for this ICLW, I would give you a Q&A session to give you a little insight into who I am and why I'm here.

Q: How did your blog get started, and what is it about?
A: This blog is actually my secondary and anonymous blog. It was started just one year ago when I was dealing with some serious post partum depression after my daughter was born. I felt like I had been given a double wammy in that I had gone through two years of infertility just to become a mother, and then when I finally achieved the dream, I got hit with PPD and wasn't able to enjoy being a mother the way I wanted and needed to. My first blog was so therapeutic while I was fighting the IF battle that I decided I needed an anonymous blog to help me through PPD because I didn't want everyone IRL to know I was going through this and on medication.

This blog gives me complete and total freedom to write whatever I want without the fear of someone IRL coming across it. Sometimes we just need to vent about people or circumstances in our lives to help us deal with those situations, but that doesn't mean we need our friends and family knowing about it (or reading what we say about them).

Q: What do you blog about most?
A: I mostly blog about every day life. I don't write very much here about my battles with infertility (I am still fighting it while trying to conceive again) or even being a mother. This blog is more about my random thoughts and feelings. Sometimes it is funny (or so I think), sometimes it is serious, and sometimes it is thoughtful. There are no holes barred when it comes to this blog and my subject matter.

Q: What do you like about blogging?
A: I love that I get to meet and support so many other women who know exactly the pain and trauma I have been through, both with my battles through infertility, and my battle with depression. It is nice to know that am I not alone in my struggles, but I also appreciate the opportunity to help uplift others who are where I have been. I love to think that I give others hope in their darkest hours.

Q: Who are you?
A: I am a mother who overcame infertility and PPD, who is now living the life she always dreamed of. I am a wife to one of the most incredible, loving, caring, understanding man on the planet. I am blessed beyond words in every aspect of my life. I am an avid dog lover. I am logical and emotional, crazy and sane, a lover of life, and a friend to many. I am a healer, full of empathy and love, with strength to give when strength is needed. I am the best me I can possibly be. If there were two of me, we would be the best of friends.

I hope you enjoyed your introduction into Saige, the anon blogger. I look forward to reading your blogs as ICLW gets under way. Thank you for stopping by. :)

Uh Oh, Withdrawals

Just over two weeks ago I started coming off my antidepressants. My doctor wanted to take it slow getting me off them, so we had a plan to half the dose every two weeks over the next six weeks. I didn't realize until yesterday that even halving the dose was too much too fast.

The last week or so I have had a really hard time being at work. I didn't know why. I like my job. I like what I do. I like the people I work with. But I just plain didn't want to be there so bad it was downright depressing. On top of that, I was unbelievably exhausted. I couldn't focus. I couldn't remember what day of the week it was (still can't). All I wanted to do was sleep. I was so blue, and for no good reason. When I went out to lunch with my two best friends, I had nothing to say. I just sat there, and for once, couldn't hold up my end of the conversation. It was very out of character for me.

Yesterday at work, I was tired of being so down and not knowing why. Then I had an epiphany. I IMed my best friend J, who is also on anti-deps, and asked her if she thought my blues were a side effect of coming off the meds. Her instant reply was, "Yes." So I turned to Dr. Google. As I read up, I realized I had been having major withdrawals from the meds and didn't even know it. It sure explained a LOT about my behavior the last two weeks.

I blew up at my husband twice over the weekend with little to no provocation on his part, and I was so angry I was seething inside. I don't remember the last time I was that mad, let alone over nothing. On Monday I was full on screaming at other drivers on my way into work. I got there and thought how very unlike me that was. But during none of those outbreaks did I piece together it had anything to do with withdrawals. I've never been on meds this long before, and certainly never long enough to have withdrawals from them. I honestly thought I would half my dose every other week for six weeks and wouldn't notice. HA!

After I googled to find out what the symptoms were, I IMed my husband and told him what I had found. Like me, he said it explained a lot about my recent behavior. I was seriously depressed that going off my antidepressants was making me depressed. I had no idea this was going to happen. I also read that my doctor is smarter than most doctors about getting me off the meds, but that he was still doing it too quickly. I'll spare you the details, but after some thought on my part, a discussion with my friends and family who have been on SSRI's, and a quick phone call to my doctor, I have decided to make getting off the meds take longer than anticipated. I simply cannot handle the withdrawal symptoms, or rather, choose not to.

My mother thinks because I am having withdrawals it means I should never go off of them. Thanks mom, but you're wrong. ANYONE who has been on them and especially for more than 6 months is going to have withdrawals even with tapering off very slowly, simply because the brain now has to figure out how to do on its own what the meds have been doing for it. It takes time for that to work. That's just like saying people who smoke should always smoke because the withdrawal symptoms mean they need the nicotine to survive. Guess again.

The good thing is, my withdrawal symptoms make me terribly apathetic about pretty much everything right now, so I don't care if it takes me longer to get off of them. Whatever. One side effect I am loving though is loss of appetite. I eat too much normally, so it is nice to not have food sound good for a while, especially because I would like to drop a few before I get knocked up in a couple weeks. ;)

So tonight I bumped my dose up to 1.5 times what I have been on for the last two weeks in an attempt to regain my happiness equilibrium, and I will taper off even more slowly than originally planned. Its worth my sanity and that of the loved ones around me. Bummer, but oh well. We do what we have to do, right gals?