Friday, May 29, 2009


Next month I am going to do a much better job with IComLeavWe. This time around there were just too many things going on. Mostly, it was the end of another year of teaching, which brings with it essays to grade, tests to make, files to clean out, books to count, and the list goes on.

I didn't do a bang up job with ICLW this month. I only got around to returning a few comments, and I didn't reach my daily goal of comments to leave. It's not that I didn't want to be an active member of this community, it's just that the "teacher" part of my persona had to take over the "blogger" part and I had to get down to business. Therefore, my blog suffered. Terribly.

But don't hold it against me for too long. I promise I'll do better. School is out for the next several weeks, and I will finally be able to take a deep, reflective breath as soon as I decompress.

I'll be decompressing by spending the weekend with my entire family at the lake. Oh yeah. Sun, water, camping, food, games, love, kids, laughs... That's just what I need to get back on track.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Thursday, May 28, 2009


Today my department had a potluck lunch to celebrate the end of the year. It was also a sending-off of sorts for our department chair who will be staying home next year to raise her son.

Cue the jealousy.

When I began working there, Kev and I had already been trying to conceive for two years. The chair and I became friends and she soon decided that she also wanted to start trying for a family. Of course, you can imagine how that worked out. For a couple of months, we shared our frustrations about OPK's, negative pregnancy tests, timing, etc. It was so nice to finally have someone to talk to who understood how complicated the whole process can be for some of us. Then she stopped talking to me. Until she announced her pregnancy, that is.

Then I was suddenly on the receiving end of complaints of swollen ankles and morning sickness and not fitting into a favorite pair of jeans. I had to listen to the common woes of pregnancy that I would gladly give an eye for. And I listened and I was patient and I was empathetic and then I quietly went back to my room and cried.

For the next year or so, I listened to stories - you know the stories - of growing babies. The chair was not the only person with a new baby at home. There are four children under 3 who belong to members of my department. It makes group lunches incredibly difficult to bear for a person who suffers with infertility.

Sometimes I can stay the entire twenty minutes for lunch, but other times I can't even poke my head out my door. It's strange how infertility's storm of emotions can erupt with no warning.

Now that her son is almost two, she has chosen to stay home with him. I don't blame her. I would have done it long ago.

The position of department chair has been passed on to me. I hope the position of Mother follows suit.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


Since beginning Lupron about six days ago, I've been a terrible person to be around. At least for Kev to be around. Poor guy, he can't seem to do anything right. But truthfully, I don't know if it's the Lupron that is making my fuse short or if it's really Kev being an ass.

A few days ago as I changed my clothes, I looked into the mirror and began pouting and harumphing about. Kev asked what was wrong and I said that I felt that I had gained back all the weight I lost this spring. He told me that I should exercise more and I wouldn't feel that way. Oh boy, did I ever blow up! He's right, but I told him that what he had said was not helpful and that I just wanted him to say something supportive.

Later that night, we went to his parents' house for a lovely dinner. Once we got home and I had changed into my PJ's, Kev asked me if I wanted to go over to a friend's house for cocktails. Um...NO. Not now! I'm in my PJ's! So he said he'd be back in one hour. One hour and fifty-five minutes later, he was still not home and hadn't returned my calls or texts. My mind started going crazy. I just knew he was in a ditch somewhere between our house and theirs. So I threw on my slippers and drove, looking down every side street for his abandoned car. It was now after midnight and I was totally surprised to see his car parked in front of our friends' house and all the guests were outside on the porch! Oh, the embarrassment. Kev was quick to insinuate that I had embarrassed him too. In fact, he called me a lunatic. And I was.

The next day, Kev's baseball team came over for a cookout. I had grocery shopped, chopped, cooked, cut, plated, and prepped all day. Kev did not say two words to me the entire time they were here. They were here for seven hours. One of them actually said, "Man, it must suck being married." To which, Kev responded, "It's not that bad." Not that bad? Are you freaking kidding me? This is the response to the moron who just ate my food and is sitting on my deck under my patio umbrella and assumes that being married must "suck"? I expected my husband to put the moron in his place, but instead, they just continued drinking beer and exchanging misogynistic comments. When the last two idiots finally left, I had already packed our bags to spend the weekend with my parents. Kev got a tongue-lashing in the car as I drove his inebriated ass to my home town an hour away.

And tonight Kev is going to a baseball game with some co-workers. When he told me that he'd have his phone on him at the game, do you think I believed that he would actually answer my call should I try to reach him? Do you think I believed him when he said he'd be home long before 11pm? I believe the last thing he heard was the sound of my slamming the phone down.

I absolutely hate the way I'm feeling. Every little thing he's done in the past five or six days has been infuriating. Is it the Lupron or is he being an ass?

**As I was getting ready to publish this post, I heard someone try to open the front door. I ran upstairs to see which neighbor needed what. There was Kev, peering in through the crack in the door held in place by the chain lock. I opened the door, and he handed me a bouquet of flowers. He then proceeded to apologize for being an ass. God, I love that man.

Saturday, May 23, 2009


I'm on Lupron Pictures, Images and Photos

Those of you who have battled infertility know what this means. I still don't really have the balls to come right out and say it, but I really might as well have. I'm on day three of Lupron and a few other things.

If you know the implications of this, please wish me luck. If you don't have a rat's ass of a clue, go ahead and wish me luck for now, and I will fill you in on the details when I take care of some "business."

This is big.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


secret Pictures, Images and Photos

For the IComLeavWe'ers new to my blog, let me give you a brief-ish run-down of how I came to travel this TTC road. I've gone from Point A (amenorrhea) and hit all the detours common for women with PCOS, and am still trying to get to Point B (baby... Duh).

Point A: No period until age 18 (1995)
Detour 1: Put on birth control to regulate cycles
D2: Got engaged and stopped birth control and menses also stopped (2001)
D3: Diagnosed with PCOS and given Metformin. Still no regular cycles (2003)
D4: Tried acupuncture
D5: Tried Mayan abdominal massage
D6: Tried dysglycemia diet
D7: Tried Chinese herbs
D8: Still no regular cycles after three years of alternative therapies, so I found a local RE (2006)
D9: Was put back on Metformin and added Femara and HCG to the mix and got pregnant
D10: Miscarried
D11: Tried for another year using the same protocol with no luck
D12: Three failed IUI's and one good bout of OHSS (2008)
D13: Got approved for private adoption and wait, wait, wait to be matched
D14: And today... on to the next leg of our journey trying to get to Point B

When I get a little more nerve, I will blog about it. But for right now, it stays a secret. Check back soon to see if I crumble under the pressure of secrecy.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009



Mother's Day is fast approaching and I've realized that my heart has become calloused to the build-up of this widely celebrated day. Don't get me wrong.... I definitely celebrate my mother and mother-in-law and all the other mothers I know (which is nearly every woman in my life) on Mother's Day. They are life-givers and nurturers and deserve to be celebrated more than just one day a year. Really. They do.

What I mean is that lately I have found that as an American consumer, I am barraged by Mother's Day jewelry offers, radio ads, full, two-page spreads, and the like. As are most of you. You can't escape it. Click on the TV lately, and you'll see Jane Sey.more pushing her mass-produced synthetic diamond heart pendant. Go to a Roy.als game and listen to the 610 AM pre-game in the parking lot, and they will interview players and ask them how they plan to honor their mothers this weekend. Open a magazine or newspaper, and find article after touching article about the women who make the world go round. Americans love their mothers. Yay for our moms!

I should be mushy too, right? I mean, I have a mom. I love my mom. She's the best woman I know. Strong, caring, forgiving, smart, loving, funny, beautiful Mom. She's the best. I'm the luckiest kid in the world to have such a nearly perfect mother. Really. She's always been the best. Even when I was a shitty teenager and hated everything, she was still the best.

So why does my stomach immediately tie itself into knots at the mere suggestion of a Mother's Day advertisement? I can't control it. I don't cry into a pillow. I don't roll my eyes. I don't leave the room. I experience something in my stomach that shifts uncomfortably and uncontrollably and I stop breathing. It's almost like a mild and quick panic attack.

Remember that feeling you got in your high school freshman speech class right before you had to stand in front of 30 judgmental teens and talk for five minutes about the Titan.ic or Medgar Ev.ars? Remember how your stomach felt kind of like it was collapsing in on itself? Your heart raced, your breathing became shallow, your eyes widened, noises swelled to an inaudible roar? That's it. That's what happens when I see a florist peddling beautiful mother's bouquets or a jeweler pushing gemstone and diamond mother's rings.

What the hell is wrong with me? Is this a feeling of jealousy? Is it self-pity? What the crap is it? I need to know so that I can fix it.

My weekend is planned around my mom and mother-in-law. It's going to be all about them. I'm taking my mother-in-law to a percussion show and dinner Saturday night, then spending the entire next day with my mommy. It shouldn't be any other way. Right?

I just want this weekend to hurry and get here so I can focus on the amazing women I call Mom. But I really don't want to see or hear those ads anymore. They remind me of how insufficient I am. Deficient. Broken. Worthless? Maybe that feeling in my stomach is anger. Frustration. Maybe I just need to scream and get it out.

Or cry. I'm pretty good at that. Maybe I'll try that.

Saturday, May 2, 2009


Kansas City Royals baseball Pictures, Images and Photos

I am so in love right now.

I've been a fan my whole life, but they have broken my heart every season for years. Not this year. This year, my Royals are on fire. This year, my Royals have a new stadium and a fire under their collective ass.

Have you been paying attention?! Comment your love only, please!

Go see what everyone else is showing off this week.

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