Archive for October, 2011


Up side down life

(Disney princesses table dancing! lol)

CD2

As The Red Lady’s way of laughing at me, she arrived on my way to the store to buy some HPT’s. No joke.

So, my life has taken a massive turn as of yesterday. I accepted a full-time job and I start on Monday. I found a day home to put Monster in, she’s going to try taking him to and from school and I’m really hoping that works out because he will be completely heart-broken if I have to pull him out all together. I’m already going to be taking him out of most if not all of his music classes and the nursery time at church for my MOPS and bible study where he gets to play with other kids his age. So if schools out, there will only be him and really little kids. Lets hope that the transporting to and from school works out ok.

I’m pretty nervous about going back full-time. I guess I’ll no longer be an at home mom, like we had planned for me until all our children were in elementary school. I wanted to work half-time, or casually…but they kept calling asking for me to fill various full-time lines and eventually I guess I let them bully me into taking one. On the up side, we could really use the extra money. On the really up side, if it doesn’t works with our lives or Monster doesn’t deal with this well…or if I hate the job…I can quit! We don’t need the money, it just brings on these fantasies of ripping out this awful Asthma Bane carpet for hardwood and having a savings account actually mean something (like not living pay check to pay check).

The horror is that I’m now going to be getting up at a minimum of 3 hours earlier than I’m used to and having to drag a very much non-morning child around with me. I’m going to be very tired until I can reprogram myself into a new schedule.

 You think there is any chance that I’ll get pregnant now that I’m going back to work?

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Stick waster

I feel like a stick waster. I know, go ahead and point your fingers! I just wasted my last two HPT’s and now…I don’t know what to do, I’ve never run out before (which is what happens when you buy them in bulk). I’m debating if I should buy another bulk order or just say to hell with it. Having them around only makes us more inclined to psych ourselves up, right. But I do like the OPTION of being able to POAS when I feel the need/ curiosity/ random desire to punish myself. So refresh me, is it HPT’s that can work as OPK sticks or the other way around.

Today is CD 27 and I went for the good ol’ POAS on day 24 and day 26. And here I keep telling you guys to hold out. I’m usually good for it, but for some reason I actually had hope this month. I should have known better, hope means a definite -HPT.

I hate this game. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.

Hate.

Just incase you were wondering, there’s some hate in there.

Pity party, I’ll bring the banana bread!

Ok, my pity party actually started this morning at Monster’s music class. The teacher (who I also found out is also a coroner and now I keep picturing her singing and dancing while she’s doing autopsies) played Puff the Magic Dragon for the kids. It reminded me of when I was little and my dad used to sing this to me and replace the land name with my name so Puff lived in “a land called ShaunaLee”.  It’s a silly little thing, but it’s one of the few nice memories of my dad and it’s got me stuck in the “I want my daddy” mode now.

Is there a time limit on wallowing? How long do I get for not pregnant and no daddy?  An hour? A few hours? Doesn’t matter so long as I suck it up before Hubby gets home?

 

The year of nephews

Well, that’s it, it’s finished. Like I’ve mentioned, 5/6 of my sisters were having babies this year and the last one popped on friday. So the large part of me is cheering “YAY, no more pregnant sisters!” (yet) and another part of me is a little nervous that I’m now completely surrounded by babies.

They. Are. Everywhere.

I’ve recently gotten to the point where I am better with babies again. I’ve spent a long time now just not really acknowledging them much. I never really hold them. Well, other than the one time last year when I took the first of this years bunch off for about a 30 minute snuggle and cry. That was the only time I’d ever really touched any of my nephews (let alone any other baby) until this summer when my older brother had his son. For some reason I was drawn to that boy like he was my own. I guess it’s hard to hold back when there is no way to deny that a child is so obviously of your blood. He (W) is like my brothers doppelganger. But now the last two of the bunch are out too and I’m trying my best to get back to snuggling the babies. It doesn’t feel natural, let me tell you. And I never thought I’d say that holding babies is awkward and unnatural (except W) but I’m just being honest saying that it is.

That will change with time again, right? I was never like that before. Just since my miscarriages.

It has to get better, ’cause they are everywhere.

Judge not

I think it’s pretty safe to say that everyone (mostly) is familiar with this bible verse

(don’t worry, it’s not actually crooked, just the awkward twisting result of trying to take a picture of the back of my own neck and not being able to get far enough away from myself)

I love this verse. Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have permanently placed it on my body. But like many verses people like to quote, few people read the rest of it.

1 “Judge not, that you be not judged. 2 For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. 3Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 4Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? 5You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.  (Matthew 7:1-5 ESV)

Lots of people just like to look at the beginning and say that you shouldn’t judge others. Period. But take a better look at this. This is talking about being blind to your own faults and hypocrisy, judging others for their faults or sins when you have the same or worse (a log vs a speck) in yourself. And how often do we do this? “Cough, cough…not me, never”. Exactly, we all do this, a lot. But of all the things that we do, this is one of my largest peeves.

I know I am no better than anyone else out there, and I am happy to have that knowledge. I am far from perfect, and I work really hard to not judge others action or make assumptions about the way they act. Maybe it’s more noticeable to me than it would be to some because my husband is often the embodiment of this warning here (I love him, just being honest). He goes on angry rants on a regular basis and there are so many time when I want to say “YOU are judging them about that? Hello. Pot meet kettle.” but I bite my tongue because it’s not really going to do any good at the time, and I can just hope that he will catch on once he calms down. Of course it’s the people who have the faults that we hate about ourselves most that really get under our skin, and we want to ignore it in ourself and fix them instead. But that never works out so well.

Think of it like the funky masks on the airplanes. You put the mask on yourself before you try and help someone else. You are useless to others if you haven’t dealt with your own problem first.

I decided about three years ago that I wanted this tattoo. This is a reminder to me of how I wish to be/ not be. I don’t want to be the pot.  I want to remember to fix myself first. I want my husband or friends to call me on it if I’m pointing out the “speck” in someone else’s eye and being blind to the “log” in my own. And I want to be held to the same standards of judgement that I hold anyone else to.

Did that jibba jabba make any sense to anyone but me?

Anyone find it funny that the non-Christian has a bible verse tattooed to her neck? Christian or not, just try and tell me that it’s not right.

Mid-cycle TMI

I’m just going to go right ahead and put a big ol’ TMI warning right off the bat here. And descriptive. I’m not going to bother with an in-depth Google search since many of you have already put in the hours.

I’d be…CD 13 now (I had to look it up, still keeping with the trying to not pay attention)

I know that some of you have talked about the mid-cycle spotting (ovulation or implantation I can’t remember which) but I’ve never had anything of the likes before. Last night post a little …fun… I get my lazy ass up an hour later (overkill, I know, but I was reading) to go to the bathroom and, no joke, bright as hell red is making its way out. My first though was “oh, it’s that time of the month”, but no, I’m nowhere near that. I just finished it last week. I’ve only ever heard of mid cycle spots as being browny or pinkish. Not bright, fresh as fresh can be style red.

And to answer the next obvious question, no, it wasn’t remotely rough. I have no excuse to have bled otherwise and when he’d cleaned up, there was nothing on him. Being realistic, it would only take a few drops of blood to turn one load of semen that red, but…SO RED! Seriously never happened to me before.

Anyone have any idea’s here? Can ovulation spotting be that bright?

It’s done….kinda

If it wasn’t so depressing, I’d have laughed at the talk I had with Monster today. Ok, I did laugh a little, but who wouldn’t have seen it coming? I’m trying to have a serious talk with a three year old.

I was laying down reading and Monster was flapping around on the bed, driving his car on my book and trying to convince me it was a turtle. All was normal. Then he starts tracing on my back and he asks me “why did you want feet on your back?”. So I try and tell him, not really knowing the words I want even though I’ve had a long time to think about this.

Me: “I wanted the feet to remember my babies that aren’t with me anymore”

Monster: “Why?”

Me: “Well sometimes when mommies are growing a baby in their tummy, something happens and you don’t get to keep the baby. Something goes wrong and the baby dies…”

Monster: <insert crumpled irritation here> “I’m not talking about BABIES! I’m talking about TATTOOS!”

Me: “Yes, but I got the tattoos as a way to remember my babies and keep them close to me”

Monster: “Close to you?”

Me: “Should we read the story?”

Monster: “Yep”

So we sat down together and read this story that I ordered last year and donated to my local MOPS group. I was hoping that this would help to explain to him what had happened seeing as I often mention Darla and during my last pregnancy (I was never able to name that baby so I just call it Baby) he would regularly talk to my stomach and tell me when Baby was sleeping or awake. Immediately after I miscarried he just stopped mentioning Baby even though I never really told him what happened.

Monster: “What does died mean?”

Me: “Well, it’s like if someone goes away but they can never ever come back again”

Monster: “Is it like killing bad guys?”

Me: “Kinda, but we don’t kill people. Besides, it’s rude.”

Monster: “What’s on your face?”

Me: “A pimple”

Monster: “Why?”

Me: “It just happens sometimes. It will go away on its own”

Monster: “Let’s have a snack. Can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

And I knew I’d completely lost him. I didn’t bother pulling out Darla’s ashes, or the ring that I wear that some of her ashes are in. I accepted the hugs and the gentle arm strokes he gave me when I cried a little. Tried to answer his questions as best I could for a three year old. I didn’t really know what to say when he asked why babies turn into angels or how to explain that killing bad guys wasn’t really along the same lines as a baby dying. I guess next time he asks I’ll try again and just go from there. I know he remembers what I tell him, but understanding it is a much different story.

But it’s a start, right?

The tattoos

Believe it or not, they are done. It took a little hand holding and deleting email from our interactions to prevent me from throwing things at him, but it ended up coming out well. I’m even pleased to say that he apologized for the fuck ups and admitted that he’d been skim reading the emails and after I ripped a strip off him last week he went back and read my initial email that had all my VERY straight forward instructions in it. Yay for me, I guess?

But at least it’s done. And I’m really happy with how they have turned out. No to mention getting tattoos is almost as good as a message for me since I have a crazy high pain tolerance and the light weight of the persons arms on my back with the vibration of the machine nearly puts me to sleep (and has in the past). But he had a fancy-ass new kind of machine and it was the gentlest tattoo(s) I’ve ever had.

It’s not a great shot. The whole slathered in oil thing and my camera being a jerk is making for a fuzzy picture (that and I’m trying to get Hubby to stop playing WOW for two seconds to do it so he’s not really paying much attention). I’ll get a better picture of it shortly, but it gives you the general idea. I’ll put a picture of the other up with a different post about it too.

So, I guess now is the time to sit down with Monster and talk about this. I’ve got the tattoo, the story, the ashes, now I just need to time to sit down and do this. It’s so rare that I’m busy, but it is Thanksgiving weekend and Hubby and I are out today to celebrate our 8th anniversary.  I guess maybe it will be Monday.

Holy Crap! is one year old

It’s been a year. Can you believe it? A year since I started this blog. A year since I was so full of grief and loss that I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.

I felt so alone, desperate to find others in the same position. Wishing to help others by my experience even if it was only to prevent them from feeling as alone as I did.

I wanted people to talk about it. I was so tired of miscarriage being a taboo subject, people made to feel that they had to keep it hushed up like it was shameful. Do we hide our grief when our parents die? Our brothers, sisters, friends? Our living children? No. People expect grief and mourning. So why are we supposed to hide it when we lose an unborn child?

So, months after my second loss, I decided that not only would I talk about it to others, but I’d write about my experience and hope that it could reach others. And then I found you guys. A whole community of women sharing in the same struggle, each in their own way, and I can honestly say that I have never been so grateful for a group of strangers in my life. And many of us aren’t really strangers anymore.

You guys have seen me through some dark times and some grade A quality denial, nearly giving up but then hopping back on that overly flogged horse for one more try. You guys have listened and supported, not judging when I needed to get things off my chest that were less than sweet, laughed with me and cried with me too. We all know that this journey can make us a little less than sane and at times others may question whether or not our logic is human logic, but at least we know we’re NOT alone here. We can be crazy with vegetable soup logic together.

I don’t know how much I’ve grown in the last year, maybe not at all. I know that I’m no longer nearly debilitated (that sounds like a made up word) with grief. I can go more than 60 seconds without focusing on my losses. I can talk about my miscarriages to others without turning into a puddle (I didn’t say without emotion). And the biggest thing, I can feel some hope for the future. I may never raise another child. My son may never have brothers or sisters. I may never get pregnant again or I may have another loss. I don’t know. But at least I can HOPE that someday Mo’s Flying Spaghetti Monster will deem me worthy of the gift of another child (through any means…anyone have a spare they want to send my way?).

So thank you guys. Thanks for witnessing my crazy ass go through it all, but mostly just for being here. I’m going to keep on keeping on, keep hoping, and well…keep being a crazy ass for the most part. But at least I know I’m going to be ok.

And just because I’m a big fan of the laughing…

It’s my anniversary?

this is Hubby and I’s wedding song.  Nothing Else Matters (S&M).

So, I get a phone call this morning from my grandparents.

“Happy Anniversary!”

?huh? “It’s my anniversary?”

“Isn’t today October 4th?”

…..”thanks for giving me the heads up” that’s a little embarrassing

I can’t help but love the fact that I have to be reminded about my own anniversary and occasionally birthdays, valentines day, so on and so forth. So now Hubby and I have officially been married for 8 years. Where does the time go? We’ve become such different people in the time since we got married. We’ve been through some incredibly hard times, probably more than most people who have only been together this long. If I met the old me I don’t know if I’d even recognize myself. I kinda miss those rose-colored glasses.

But what hasn’t changed is that we love each other, we support each other, and we take care of each other. The good thing about the struggles is that they brought us closer, we understand each other better, and we’re stronger.

When I told my grandparents what anniversary it was they were surprised, as many people are when they realize how much time has passed. But it wasn’t just how long it had been that surprised them.

“Oh really? We didn’t think you waited so long to have Monster”

“Ya…well, it took a while”.

It’s not fair of me to expect my family to remember every detail of our TTC (especially the generation that doesn’t talk about that sort of thing) since we didn’t talk about it until after we were pregnant. But I thought they’d at least recall that we had been seeing a fertility specialist. It took 3.5 years for me to get pregnant.

I guess I was just a little surprised that they said that since even if they don’t remember that we struggled pre-Monster, they know that we are struggling now. I guess it doesn’t go hand in hand. We could theoretically have waited those years before trying.

I supposed it’s really more the reminder that this is so difficult for us that struck me.

Unlike my previous post about The Help, which was about my reaction to one of the character’s miscarriages, which I admit is still much on my mind, this will be more of a review of the book (or parts of it). I figured I may as well put out my two cents since I mentioned that I was reading it. Please note, I am not politically correct but out of curiosity, if you shouldn’t call a black person black, what the hell am I supposed to call a white person? And why is brown ok?

Everyone who pays attention to what I read knows that it’s a little of everything, but that I mostly stick to urban fantasy (I think that’s what it’s called?). This was the pick from my book club this month. They make me read things like Memory Keeper’s Daughter and Forgotten Garden and I make them read things like Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and The Hunger Games.

I really enjoyed reading this, I’m not going to say that I found it as amazing as everyone else seems to (it’s like this book is everywhere right now), but I’d definitely recommend it even if it’s not your normal type of pick.

It blows my mind that there was ever a time when people (black and white…and Jew, I think they separated you guys too in the country clubs and that makes no sense, you guys are hot, right Mo? And where does everyone else fit in there?) had to use separate schools, grocery stores, movie theaters and bathrooms. I don’t like sharing a bathroom with Anyone but it has nothing to do with the color of their hiney and everything to do with the fact that I’m a bathroom germaphobe that has spent 15 years flushing toilets with my feet. The thing that blows my mind the most is that this was going on while my mom was a teenager still. Does that mean by the time our children are teens, gay bashing and same-sex marriage opposition will be a thing of the past? I can only hope.

The story is told from the point of view of two black maids and one of the white girls that want to change the way everything is. Aibileen is the sweetest woman in the world and you can’t help but wish she was your gramma. Minny is a sassy, take-no-shit-from-no-one, been fired a billion times in the same town for back-talking kind girl and I can’t help but relate to her. I’ve never been fired for back-talking before, but the only reason for that is that most of my bosses have earned my respect enough not to do so, I can make them apologize to me for being asses, or there was the one boss that I fought with …~ every 5 minutes and we called each other every name under the sun and then he’d make me sit down and read him a story (’cause that’s an admin assistants job). Then there is Skeeter who I thought was hated by her parents until I realized it was a nick-name from her brother that stuck. She’s the kind of awkward, too tall, unmanageable hair, really smart and nice but never gets a date girl that we can all relate to through our insecurities.  

One thing I really liked about this book though, from a fertilely challenged perspective, was that they included a character that can’t, try as she might, have a baby. I think it lists her at five losses and one of them is included in the book. She’s not a huge portion of the book, but I suppose she stands out to me. She’s also one of the most likeable characters in the book. She’s the “white trash”, married rich and miserable about it, no friends but her maid (as much as her maid will be her friend), and I’m not gonna lie, she’s not the sharpest crayon. But it goes through her story and  the whole time you think she’s super lazy and a little crazy. But as it goes on you realize that so much of her crazy behavior is all about trying to have a baby. She wont get up and mover around much and doesn’t leave the house for ~ the first six months of her story. After a while Minny catches her sneaking up to the rooms upstairs drinking. But she’s essentially put herself on bed rest trying to keep a baby and the secret “drinking” is a “catching tonic” from her local natives to help prevent miscarrying.

I love that it showed the crazy side of us that comes out in our desperation to have or keep a child. Maybe some people would find it insulting, seeing as she does seem a bit off the rocker, but I don’t. I think it shows what can happen to us and the fact that others don’t seem to understand what we’re doing and judge us for it. Even her unsupportive ass of a doctor gives her crap all the time.

I’m not sure how often novels show characters that have fertility issue. The seldom one I’ve seen over time just glosses right over the issues of repeat losses or infertility. So I have to say that when a story goes into the issue, even when it’s not a lot, I appreciate it, because it’s something that needs to be talked about more.