Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Catching up...or not

I haven't written lately because there isn't really much to write about. I have a new job, working in a call center. I don't particularly like it, but I don't really hate it either. I realized last night that I may very well end up there for 5 years or something because I'm too lazy to look for a new job right now...and I really don't want to be there that long. Beggars can't be choosers, though, no matter what my father may think. I need a job, I need to pay the bills. Should we ever somehow become independently wealthy, I'll think about quitting. *snerk* Like that will ever happen.

I have stuff to rant about, but I'm not sure I really want to. It's more hashing about our sex life, and how angry I am concerning it, but really...it won't do anything to fix it. It's not something I can talk to DH about without making him feel guilty and I don't want to do that...and it's an old argument anyways, one we've been having in one form or another since we got married. I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of being upset about it, and I'm tired of him feeling guilty or abnormal. I wish we could resolve it, but I fear that will never happen.

Dad has finally stopped calling me every day, for the most part. It's down to every few days usually, and never anything to really tell me, he just wants to talk. I guess I'm ok with that...if only he'd listen when I say anything, instead of blowing me off or glossing over whatever it is. That will also never happen, as he's always done that to me...I can't decide if it's because I'm a girl, his daughter, or just younger.

I'm feeling a little off-center the past few weeks. Like something is wrong but I can't quite figure it out - not REALLY wrong, just off. I'm pretty sure it's just me, which means I can ignore it and it will go away eventually.

Other than all that, there really isn't anything going on. I'll write more about dad on the other blog, as it deals with mom too. I just wanted to let y'all know I was still alive and kicking, there just isn't really anything going on.

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Job! OMG!

I didn't want to post about this until it was for sure, but...

I GOT A JOB!!!

Yes, you read that correctly. After 8 months of unemployment and 6 months spent looking for a job, I finally have one! I'll be working as an in-bound tech at this company, working on this company's products. It's not something I've done before, but I'm willing to try something new...as long as they're paying me, which they are. :)

I start in 6 days. My training schedule is just scary - 5:30 in the morning until 2:30 in the afternoon, for three weeks. My normal schedule, though? Absolutely peachy - 1:00 in the afternoon until 9:3o in the evening, with weekends off from the start. It couldn't get much better than that. DH is going to change his schedule once we know for sure when my real one starts (they mentioned a protected week, where I have lots of help available, but didn't tell me which schedule that was on) and he'll work 11-7. So we'll each have a few hours of "me time" every day (which he's been missing terribly) and yet still get to see each other every day too!

I'm so excited - we'll be all caught up financially in no time flat. The plan is to put some in savings every paycheck while still working feverishly to get our credit card paid off. Of course, even if I threw almost my entire paycheck at the credit card it still won't be paid off until next year (ouch!) but at least there will be breathing room. We also have a request in for a loan modification on the house and I'm going to be deferring my student loans for a while. Ok, so maybe things aren't going to be as easy as I'd initially thought (damn you, typing, for putting into perspective!) but still WAY easier than they are now.

But! I HAS JOB NAO! (yes, lolcat speak - deal with it, it only happens sometimes)

Monday, June 01, 2009

I've been reading...

a rather interesting web novel of late. It's not for everyone - I suggest only going if you are very open minded. But I thought I'd give it a shout here, just in case some of you want to go and read it too. :) I promise that I'll get around to making a real blog post some day - some are brewing, I'm just trying to ignore them.

Prologue | An Intimate History of the Greater Kingdom | MeiLin Miranda

Shared via AddThis

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Pocket Pet anthem

Anything that amuses me and cheers me up is a good thing, yeah? As such, I present to you "Nom! nom! nom!" - the anthem of Pocket Pets everywhere! The first time I watched it I thought "aww...cute!" And then? I watched it again...and again...and again...and, well, you get the picture. I bebop to it in my chair, it brings a smile to my face every time, and I catch myself humming it at random. Without further ado:

Friday, April 24, 2009

And the fun starts....*edited*

I remember taking 1500mg of Met before, and getting "fire butt" as someone from my old TTC/ITSG boards used to call it. What I forgot about? The nausea that strikes as soon as I up my dosage to a proper level. Why did I forget? Probably because I haven't been at the proper level since the first time I was dx'd.

Nausea. In my chest. Not my stomach - that feels fine. But...it's like my esophagus is nauseated. I breathe in just right and I can make it go away.

I'm going to go lay down and try to sleep. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. Probably not - I have a feeling the fun is just beginning.

*edit* I was both right and wrong. The nausea wasn't just in my esophagus, and it wasn't just nausea. Not 5 minutes after I hit post on the first part of this, I went to bed. Within 2 minutes, I jumped out of bed and threw up 3 times. So...perhaps no eating right after taking the pills. I don't remember that part from before - I hope this means that the met is going to work better. I was right about the fun just beginning though. Stay tuned for more Met drama!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Oh the irony...

History: DH and I got together 6 years and 4 months ago. Roughly 6 years ago I started a BCP called Cyclessa. DH and I got married 5 years and 7 months ago. I went off Cyclessa 5 years and 2 months ago. We started TTC, because we knew it might take a while due to family history. Sometime between then and a year and a half after starting our TTC journey, I was dx'd with insulin resistance and put on Metformin (hereafter referred to as Met). At the year and a half mark, I went to an RE. She did the wandy thing and said "Hey! You have PCOS! OH! And you're insulin resistant!" She upped my dosage of Met and we went on to a treatment that didn't work (that was 2 years and 8 months ago). Since that point, DH and I have been giving it the college try...and eventually I resigned myself to living childfree. I have been at that stage now for about a year or so.

Yesterday: I read this article which says PCOS women also have an increased endometrial cancer risk. The risk of ovarian cancer is increased 2.5-fold, particularly among women who had never used oral contraceptives. Breast cancer risk is not clearly increased with polycystic ovarian disease. Just what I needed - another thing that will give me the kind of cancer that killed my mother almost 6 months ago.

Today: I go to the doc for a med check. I've managed to gain 10 pounds since he saw me a month ago and the only thing that has changed has been my meds. He upped my dosage of Met to 1500 (bring on the fire butt, baby!) to see if it will work a little better. When I mentioned the article to him and explained the whole "PCOS and all appeared when I went OFF bcp last time", he put me back on Cyclessa.

You read that right. The woman who can't get pregnant...is on birth control pills. Not for cycling reasons, not to suppress my ovaries for a stim. An infertile woman...on bcp. I think the only thing more ironic would be if I GOT pregnant. *looks at the sky and waits for karma to come bite her in the ass*

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Pour me, Poor me

I started typing this for Mel's Lushary but it took on a life of it's own and I decided to move it here instead. Some of this may be familiar, but I'm going into more detail because APPARENTLY it needs to come out. *Warning: this post may be viewed as a pity party. I just need to vent.*

I have fibromyalgia. Not severe, but enough to interrupt my life and make it next to impossible to do things - like stand for more than 5 minutes, lift stuff repeatedly, have energy. It's centered in my hips and lower spine, and there doesn't seem to be much docs can do. I'm on a new med for it, but don't know if I'll stay on it as I've somehow managed to gain 10 pounds in less than a month. I've already got about 60 extra pounds I can't manage to lose - another 10 does not make me happy. It's centered in my hips and lower spine, which makes moving difficult from time to time.

I also have scoliosis - abnormal curvature of the spine. I curve slightly left to right, but I curve severely from front to back. I have a large ass - and most of it is because my spine bends much farther in at the base of my spine, making my tailbone (and thus my "black girl booty") thrust out. I figured out last night that in order for my spine to appear as straight as most people's, I have to bend at a 135* angle. Having a double-curve makes life...well, interesting. The curves are not static - they are always changing in degree. It's painful, but I'm used to it - my back has been like this since I was 10 years old. Or at least, that's when I was dx'd with it. Mom thought I was just experiencing "growing pains", but when it didn't cease she finally took me in. The curves have never been severe enough to warrant a brace, but that may be changing. Unfortunately, I can't exactly afford to go to an orthopedic surgeon type person to get inspected. I don't think it's coincidence that the curves are worsening in time with the fibromyalgia and where IT centers. I think they're feeding off each other and there's natch I can do about it.

Before anyone says "if you exercise, the weight will go away", no - it won't. Go back and reread the previous paragraph. See that whole "not standing, not lifting, no energy" part? Yeah, that includes "no exercising", which requires some energy, the ability to lift something, standing, biking, aerobics. All of which cause pain and lots of it and I'm not talking about your normal "man I worked out yesterday and I'm sore" pain. I'm talking about "I can't get out of bed, I feel like I've been stabbed repeatedly, I can't move" pain that lasts for weeks. One day of trying to do yard work and not listening when my body warned me to stop wiped me for 3 weeks.

Aside from that, I have mild PCOS (just enough to fuck with me, not enough to actually warrant anything in the way of treatment) and am also glucose intolerant (since they usually go hand in hand). The doc I finally get to go back to now that I've graduated college and don't have to use their health center anymore is a wonderful, wonderful man who trusts me when I say "would you please up my dosage of Met because we both know that 500 doesn't do jack shit?" He upped me to 1000 at the same time he put me on the new med for the fibro (also at my request). I didn't have the s/e's that I expected, although I am finally hungry for the first time in eons. I'd say that's why I've gained weight, but everyone keeps telling me I need to eat more...and now that I am, I've managed to prove my theory that eating makes me fat.

I haven't worked since October, when I quit my job (that was dying) to focus on school and mom. I graduated in December and started looking for a job on January 2nd. I still don't have one. I had work through a "temp" company for 3 days, and the guy was supposed to have me come back, but he never has. That was in March. I had an interview about 2 weeks ago for a company that works with mentally ill people, but that didn't pan out either. The job market sucks monkey balls right now and it's seriously frustrating. I got this damn degree that all the companies wanted and now I can't do shit with it. I'm qualified to work in any office, if they'd just hire me goddammit. I've always been qualified - somehow I think 14 years in an office qualifies me - but couldn't get the "good" jobs because I didn't have a degree. Finances are tight - very tight. If anything changes (the SIL & BIL move out, my student loans come due) we're royally fucked. If things stay exactly as they are until I find a job, we'll make it. We've made it for the last 7 months...we can keep making it. That's not likely to happen, though. Loans are due in about 2 months, and the SIL/BIL were planning on moving out in August. One royal fuckage, coming right up!

When I envision my future right now, all I can see is myself becoming my MIL. Sitting around all day on the computer, watching TV, whining because I can't do anything without hurting myself, and generally being worthless to the household. I don't want to be like that. If I sit around on the computer all day, I want it to be by my choice...not because I don't have anything else to do. I never thought I'd get tired of spending 14 hours a day playing WoW, but I'm at that point. I miss being face-to-face social with people, laughing and joking and flirting. I feel broken - infertility aside. I have a brain that's always in a fog and a body that can't do what I want it to. At least I have a husband who loves me, and friends that support me.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Angry? It's all in your head....

*looks at the last post*
*reads about "getting anger under control"*
*falls down laughing*

I love how I can deceive myself so well. It turns out that the only reason I was calmer was because of the Cymbalta. I got off schedule with it during March and ended up just quitting. Within a week I was raging again, picking fights, being stubborn and ending up getting hurt. Getting so angry with my husband that I actually cornered him in the kitchen, screaming so loud I'm surprised the neighbors didn't hear us, and slapped at him a good half-dozen times. He easily fended me, of course, and it didn't hurt him...but...it's not good.

As a result, I marched my ass into the doctor, told him I was crazy as all fuck, and he needed to get me on something I could take at night. See, my morning schedule is never the same - I don't get up at the same time, I don't eat at the same time (or hardly ever, for that matter). My night schedule is the same though - take pills, go to sleep. So adding an additional pill to that routine is no big. Enter the amitriptyline again. I've been on this before. It works well for depression, chronic pain, and usually sleep. Only...after about a week or two, it stops helping me sleep. Not sleeping causes the pain and depression to worsen, thereby rending the pill almost worthless. So I quit taking it when I stopped sleeping. I have since decided that was stupid idea, and got the doc to put me back on it. That was March 26th - and as of 4 days ago, I stopped sleeping again. Ugh. At least I have some stuff to combat that now, so I'm going to keep taking "amy" and hope it helps. Huh...never did I think I would reach the point where I actually begged a doc to medicate me so I didn't "have a nutty" as Wilma puts it.

On a funny note: When I was leaving the docs office, he told me (semi-joking) that I am not allowed to commit any violent crimes between then and the time I next see him. That leads me to believe that I am allowed to be violent as long as it's not criminal, and I can commit crimes as long as they aren't violent.

So far, I think I'm ok. I did completely lose my temper the other night during a raid with my guild in WoW and bitch out a 13-year-old because he was doing stupid shit. I also happened to do that over voice, where everyone in the run could hear me. Talk about embarrassing! Of course, his father (who is our guild master) reamed me and then tried to offer an olive branch. I warned him I was in no head space to accept anything, but he kept pushing. I finally told him to f*ck off and put him on my ignore list. Not that smartest thing to do to your GM... *head desk* Lucky me, he knew I was on a tear and didn't boot me. I apologized to his son and everyone else who heard me the next day, and the GM when I later saw him. As I was talking to DH that night, while having a complete meltdown, we came up with the perfect mental image of what it's like when I'm angry: picture an octopus, sitting on it's underside, spinning rapidly in place with the tentacles flying everywhere, striking anyone in distance. DH has gotten very good at ducking and avoiding - says he's had a lot of practice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Request for information: I have a forum friend who is not quite 2 months pregnant. She sent me a message the other day that said "Can you think of any reason intercourse would HURT LIKE HELL right now, cuz of cramps? Like menstrual cramps, until I orgasm and then it's more like contraction cramps...moves from left-center to just center. Also, doesn't hurt much if I'm on top." I told her I'd put a call out for information, knowing that my readers (those die-hards who still check on me from time to time) are wonderful people who might be able to help.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Finding Me

I know I've been quiet. My other blog has been quiet too. There's a lot going on - a lot of it internal. My temper is finally getting under control. I realized this the other night when I intentionally lost it and yelled at someone. Not screaming, not raging - but I was seriously pissed off. Enough that I got out of bed, stalked to the kitchen, and yelled at my SIL to shut the f* up because we were trying to f*ing sleep and that it was after mid-f*ing-night and DH had to get up for work at 7-f*ing-o'clock in the morning and she should just f*ing shut it and take up the argument she was having with her s/o in the f*ing morning when they were both f*ing sober. I haven't cussed that much in a single sentence in a long time! (To her credit, she showed more brains than I would have when I was like her - she shut up. I? I would have transferred my rage.) As I was talking to DH about it afterward, I realized that I don't rage like I used to. I don't scream, I don't throw things. I still slam doors when I'm mad, but it's more like "shutting really hard intentionally" than "I have to do something or I will explode so I will SLAM this door as HARD as I can and make the windows rattle in their sills".

I was remembering many years ago and a conversation I had with my mother about tempers. She said "when I was younger, I had a nasty temper...much like you have now." I looked at her askance, having rarely ever seen my mother lose her temper and trying to reconcile that with someone like me, who rages blindly. Mom said "No, really. I used to go ballistic all the time. It wasn't until I was in my 30's that I started to get a grip on it. Now I'm ok - most of the time." I figured my mother was yanking my chain. I mean..c'mon. I was a RAGER. There's no way to stop me, just let me wind down and run out of steam. I'd apologize once I calmed down. Don't take me personally unless you KNOW it's to do with you. I threw things. I developed a boxer-fracture in my right hand, which I broke in the same spot 22 times between the ages of 17 & 22. Only one of those breaks involved another person - most of the times it was walls, trees, dumpsters, benches... you get the idea. There was no WAY I was going to get a grip on this - I was sure I'd always be like this.

Now? Well, it occurred to me that here I am, in my 30's. (seriously? how did I get here?!) I'm calmer than I used to be. I spend a lot of time irritated, but not angry. My temper is, however, well established. Most of the time a look suffices to make people cooperate with me, at least with those who know me. Dh says I'm more in control than I used to be too. But how? I have no freaking clue. I'm assuming it's an age thing. :)

I miss me, though. Not the anger, oh no, but the person I was BEFORE the anger. Even the person I was, during the Raging Years, when I wasn't actually raging. I used to be fun. I used to have fun. I used to have sex several times a day - now I haven't the energy for it. I used to go out dancing - now it's painful. I used to be skinny - I've gained 100 pounds in 12 years. I miss me. Where did I go?

Anyways, the title of this post (and what prompted me to write here again after almost 5 months) is a song I just heard on Pandora radio. It's called Inner Glow , and it's by Finger Eleven. Watch, listen, read. (video sucks, but...well, at least you can hear the song)

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Happy Anniversary to Us....

Friday was our 5th anniversary.

Wow.

Have we really been married 5 years? The marriage certificate says so, so I guess it really must be true. So much has happened in the past 5 years that they've just flown by. We've weathered several moves, in-laws, house buying and remodeling, 3 years of school, 3 bouts of mom's cancer, two jobs for me, four (almost five) years of TTC and all that go with it, and a whole host of other things that seem small but were really big at the time.

When we got married, we only owned the truck. No house, and the second car that we had was being paid on. I was working for a steel company and DH had JUST started working in IT three weeks earlier. We had a ton of debt, including credit card and student loan. Now? We own a house, the truck, and a new car. Our debt is less, although not gone and about to get bigger in June when my 6-month grace period is up for loans. I will hopefully be starting a new job at the beginning of the year as well, which will mean another adjustment for us.

I worry. We've done well so far, but I read somewhere that the 5th year was the hardest. That's the point where you usually have kids, and they're in the toddler stages (which is rough, so I hear), and life is really starting to kick into full gear. For us, we have no kids and are still sorta coming to grips with that. The in-laws have been out for 4 months, so it's also still being adjusted to - we didn't really realize what his parents did, or how much crap that was here was theirs that we don't have now (wheelbarrow, post digger, soy sauce) and have to go buy. It's just "always been here", according to DH. So we're spending more money and I'm worried about that. Death of a loved one is also high on that stressor list and I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while now - the waiting is killing me. I'm not looking forward to dealing with the aftermath. I worry about DH, because I know it's going to be hard on him too and he's going to shove it aside to help me, which really ISN'T a help because I need to know that he's hurting too. I want to be able to cry together, to be strong for him and have him be strong for me, to get through it together - but I know better. I'm just hoping that it doesn't end up being too much for us.

OY! Time for class! I gotta run...thanks for checking in with me!

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Such a BITCH

I know, I know - it's been too long. I'm a little caught up in my own world these days with the inclination but not the motivation to write. Over the 4th of July weekend, we painted the living room and hallway, back living room and bedroom. The following week we replaced the carpeting in all of those rooms too. I still haven't managed to get things put back together. Go ahead...talk to me about lack of motivation!

It doesn't help that mom is getting worse, and I've been working 6 days a week between my two offices. Not long days, necessary, since I'm still getting between 20 and 30 hours, but still...6 days where I am somewhere other than home all day, 6 days where I don't want to get anything started in the morning because I have to go to work later or don't want to do anything when I get home because I've been up since 5:30am.

However, I had to tell you what happened when I went to my parents house two weeks ago. My sister was there that same weekend (joy!) so I got to see her too (more joy!). My sister and I....well, we're different and yet the same. We're 10 years apart and weren't raised together. I was raised by both of my parents - she was raised mostly by her father and his series of women, and mom for the first few years and the last few of her teens. So...very different lives. I don't see her very often - maybe a few times a year - so she's not used to the way I act, or interact, with my husband. She doesn't give a rats ass about any of my medical issues, and claims to understand my infertility. I suppose she has a small right to that, since it took her a long while to get pregnant with both of my nephews...but she never went to a doc, never did treatments, never did a blessed thing but keep trying and get her endo cleared every few years. So while she's familiar with the "Dammit I want this" feeling, she still has no idea.

ANYWAYS: All day that Saturday my dearest, most wonderful husband had been poking me, pestering me, and being generally a literal pain in my (name a body part). No hard pokes, but I was hurting hard between the trip down, a lack of sleep and an abundance of stress...the heat didn't help either. This means it was painful to be touched and I'd repeatedly told him to STOP POKING ME all day. That night we were getting ready to watch fireworks and he poked me again, and I once again told him to stop poking me please. I saw the playful gleam in his eye and amended "And don't pinch me, tickle me, or lick me either." My sister EXPLODED. The words out of her mouth? "God you are SUCH a BITCH! No wonder you can't get pregnant if your husband can't even touch you."

.....

To my credit, I did not kill her. I spun to her and said "If it didn't hurt so much, I wouldn't tell him not to." What I should have said, and realized much later, was "huh. And you call ME a bitch."

I still have not spoken to my sister about this. My mom tried, telling her that husband obviously doesn't mind - he DID marry me, after all, and has stuck around. If he minded, he wouldn't do it. It's a form of play (sort of....) and it's just the way we are. My sister maintained that I'm just a bitch.

Huh....

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Birthdays

Tomorrow is mine. I will be all of 31 - and I'm not sure what to do with that. Unlike Mel, I don't particularly like celebrating my birthdays anymore. I don't really hate them, but I'm not overly fond of them either. People keep asking me what I want - I don't really want anything and I don't really need anything either. I hate it when other people buy me clothes, which is usually what I "need" most often. I prefer gift certs, so i can go get my own stuff on my own time. Right now, I want gift certs to Lowe's or Home Depot so we can get paint for the house. Totally practical, I know, but no one seems to understand that THAT is one of the best things they can get me right now. THIS is what I want, to get the smoke and pee out of my house.

When I was growing up I always had birthday parties and I couldn't understand why my parents didn't have them. I remember asking mom about that one year and she said "Someday, honey, you'll realize that birthdays have lost their importance. You have so many that they just don't matter anymore." To my child brain, this made no sense - how could you NOT have a celebration and get lots of gifts and cake and stuff?! I think I understand. I don't want my friends and family to feel compelled to get me stuff - I know how rough money can be, how hard it can be to find time to go shopping, what a pain in the ass it can be to find the right gift. (Yet another reason why I like gift certs - the person can get what they want and I don't have to figure it out!)

I was thinking the other day about what I truly want (besides gift certs) for my birthday and realized that it's actually pretty simple, although not likely to happen:

I want my family and friends to remember it's my birthday without me having to remind them, for the umpteenth time this month.

I want them to listen to me when I tell them what's important - for me to get my house fixed.

I want to be able to enjoy my birthday for the first time in a long time - I'll actually be able to drink if I feel like it. And we're going to the beach...although it's supposed to rain all weekend. So I guess I want the weather to cooperate for once as well.

And now...although I DON'T want to...it's time for me to go to work. Blech.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

"Best Day Ever"


Mel @ Stirrup Queens has asked for help on behalf of another blogger. Please clickOur Own Creationto head over to Allison's blog and help out. It doesn't take much, just a simple click. Can you help me help a fellow blogger? Please?

Sunday, May 11, 2008

In Memorium

Photobucket

Methos went outside Thursday morning, never to return.

Methos Trouble Underfoot came into our lives 2 1/2 years ago, when he was a 6 week old bundle of white fur. Within 3 hours of his arrival, he had the house completely under his control. He was fearless then, and he'd stayed that way. When yelled at, he didn't run...he'd just hunker down as small as possible and look up at you with those blue eyes and meow, as if to say "See me? I'm small and cute and cuddly and I purr really loud. You know you love me. Don't me mad. I'm cute!" I've always had trouble keeping him inside - he came from outside, and that's where he wanted to be. After a year of fighting him I started letting him go when he'd sneak out and in the past six months I've been letting him out when he asked. This...this was my downfall.

For you see, he went outside Thursday morning when the in-laws left. Before I went to bed that night, I went outside and called for him because I don't like him to be out all night. I also figured he was hungry, as he ALWAYS comes home to eat. There was no answer, but I didn't think much of it since he does sometimes stay out all night...but he comes in when FIL leaves in the morning. When I got up, he wasn't in. I called for him again, but no answer. A few hours later I tried again...and that's when I began to panic. Every hour I'd go out and call for him. When Aaron got home, we went to look for him. I just knew he'd be in the patch of tall weeds across the street and that he wouldn't be alive. I was right. He got clipped by a car, or at least that's the best we can figure.

Methos has a special place in my life. I guess you could say he's my infertility pet. When he showed up on my doorstep, I felt as if God was saying "I'm sorry you can't have children. I know you want a little boy...so here, have Methos." Methos was a very different kitty from Winnie, who I believe God gave me because I wanted a little girl. They are definitely as different as boys and girls. In human years I think Methos was reaching his whiny, angsty teen years recently. These two cats are more human that some people I know - so full of personality and love and talk. When Aaron told me that Methos was gone I felt a stab and twist deep in my body - as if my uterus had been stabbed. Not only have I lost a pet, I've lost my child. (This is not meant to be a direct comparison to the loss of a child - nothing equates that, nothing.)

I am back to living in the land of "what ifs" and wishing that I could have the innocence of my youth once again, when I could allow people to comfort me with platitudes and believing the lies we tell each other. "I'm sure it was quick and he didn't suffer" or "He's in a better place now" or "there's nothing you could have done." I'm busy tormenting myself with "did he get hit because he was running to me when I called him? Why didn't I hear his yowls of pain? Why didn't I know he was hurt? Why didn't I go looking for him Thursday night? If I had found him just after he was hit, could I have saved him? Who did this to him and why didn't they stop? Why did God take my boykitty away from me? Why did I let him go outside, especially when I knew the dangers?" I know that there are no answers and I expect none. I imagine I'll stop looking and listening for him eventually. But for now, the house is too quiet without Methos the Monster and his purring and talking.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Deep thoughts

This post on BlogHer that was written by Mel really got me thinking. Enough thinking that I actually signed up for an account just so I could comment. My comment almost turned itself into an entire blog entry, so I thought I'd bring it here and expand on it a bit.

My comment there reads:

When we first started TTC, I went shopping crazy. Well, crazy for me, anyhow. I bought anything and everything Tigger related I could find: toddler toothbrushes, crib and twin sheet sets, pillow to match the sets, bibs, a rocking tigger (like a rocking horse), a car window shade. If it was Tigger and I saw it, I bought it.

We're going on four years now with no luck. We're no longer actively ttcing. Two years ago I put all the Tigger items into a storage unit,for use at a later date (theoretically). After reading this article, I realized something that I have no answer for and that makes me slightly panicky: My inlaws are moving out, and all my things from the storage unit are going to be coming back into the house. That means that all that baby stuff I've stashed is coming back too. I have to find a place to hide it where I will never come across it again. Why don't I get rid of it? I can't bear to. If I do, I feel like I really AM giving up.

I can understand the no-longer-in-the-trenches women who feel hesitant to buy things. I can understand those who have and are now terrified. It's as if by purchasing something you're just tempting karma to come get you. But if you don't, then those who don't understand you guilt you. I really don't think there is a win on any side to this whole deal.


I thought about my comment the entire time I was taking my lab exam. I thought about it while I read the paper during lunch. I'm sitting here in the computer lab, thinking about it again. I read Mel's response to my comment and thought some more. I thought about all the room we're going to have when the in-laws move out and yet I don't seem to have a place to hide something. Having it in storage is one thing - I rarely go to our storage unit. Putting it somewhere in the house where it could leap out and get me at any moment, or cause me to look sideways at the closet where I put it every time I see it doesn't sound like a good idea to me. I can only think of one thing to do with it - use it.

You see, the current space plan is this: Aaron and his friends are going to use the back living room as a place to game every Saturday. This means that Fred and Wilma will be coming over and bringing their children. Attached to the back living room is the room that MIL & FIL are using for their bedroom, complete with a closet. We're planning on putting the spare twin-sized bed back there and turning that room into a place for the children to play. It will give them a place to play, and they'll have to get past everyone to get into another part of the house - which is forbidden, because the house is not child-proofed and I have no plans to make it so. The bed will give them a place to crash if it's time for bed. So...perhaps I'll put the twin sheets on that bed, put the rocking tigger out for the oldest to play on.

Perhaps being confronted with things on a daily basis will make them lose some of their power. It's the fear of the unknown that gets us, I think. No matter how much we know, we still can't control or know everything and it scares us. We allow things to have power over us, such as I have with these toys. Yes, I bought them for my someday child. There might still be a someday child...but in the meantime, shouldn't these toys be loved for and used by children, even if it's not mine? Why am I so afraid of these items?

I knew a girl long ago on the WebMD JSO forums who used to try on all her clothes with one of the big salad/mixing bowls strapped to her tummy so she could see what the specific clothing item would look like when she was pregnant. I remember thinking "Why would you torture yourself that way?" and that was BEFORE I ever knew I was infertile (or subfertile, according to one doc). About a year ago or so, I went shopping for shirts and a comfortable bra. I knew that, given my body shape, maternity clothes are actually fairly flattering on me...so I went to Motherhood. When I went to try on a shirt, there was a foam "belly" in the dressing room...presumably so you could see what the clothes would look like when you started showing a little more. I debated with myself, and then put it on and tried on my shirt. I showed my husband, then took off the shirt and belly and left the store. Why did I torture myself that way, knowing what I do? I don't have an answer, except that my brain said "This is the only time you're going to see yourself this way."

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Bitter much?

Some days I think I'm ok - and I think this is true for MOST days. I no longer have the urge to scream every time I see Wilma with her children. I no longer count the pregnant bellies I see in the store, or feel the need to point them out to Aaron by saying "Oh look...there's another one." This is not to say that I don't still look at babies wistfully, or get upset when I'm surrounded by child-talk.

Other days, however, I feel warped. I hide behind armor made of bitter and distilled anger and frustration. Case in point: We are currently studying the reproductive system in my physiology class. I could easily skip this section and probably still pass, but I'm going on the off-chance that I might actually learn something. Yesterday we were covering the female system. My professor (whom I dearly love) was trying to explain the ovarian cycle, and how ovaries and the oviduct work, and how they don't touch (which can lead to ectopic pregnancies and endo ending up in the body cavity). To demonstrate this, she had me make a fist and hold up my arm. Y'all - I got to be an ovary. My first thought? "Well, at least my ovary has SOME use." I was slightly shocked at my inner voice, but then thought "well, that's about normal for me these days."

You see, instead of getting angry or sad, I just turn sarcastic and bitter. It works for me - hide behind the flippancy that still has a ring of truth to it. I do this with everything else medical that bothers me. I still remember going to a neurologist about the pain in my spine, and how random bits of my legs and feet kept going to sleep. He said "well, you're awfully flippant. It doesn't seem to be bothering you much." Dude...if it didn't bother me I wouldn't be here. I just can't face it fully on, because I'll work myself into a frenzy and come apart at the seams. It appears I've done the same thing with being infertile. It still bothers me, but if I can deal with it through being flippant...I'm ok.

Now if you'll pardon me, I'm going to go find something to wash the bitter taste out of my mouth.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Entitlement

I have been thinking about this post since Saturday morning. There was an event that triggered it and I've just been mulling it over. I can almost guarantee that it isn't going to be popular with either the infertiles or the non-infertiles. If it bothers you, don't read.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At my job, I proctor exams. I check people in, they read the policies/procedures and sign it, ask any questions they have and then I seat them. They test, they tell me when they're done, I score them and send them on their way. Easy. I usually get the same questions: What do I do if I need to use the restroom? Are we allowed gum? The answers are on the P&P if they'd just READ the damn thing, but that's an aside.

Saturday morning, as I was checking in a woman, I got the same questions. I told her if she needed to get up and go, go. She said "Okay, because I didn't sleep well last night and I don't feel very good. I'm also pregnant, so that doesn't help." Whatever lady - I don't really care if you're pregnant, had 12 cups of coffee this morning, have medication that makes you pee...whatever. Just go if you gotta go. Before I take people into the room, I make sure they use the restroom if they need to. I did the same for this one, and she came back chewing gum. I told her she needed to spit it out (people smack it when they're not paying attention, or nervous). She said "But I just put it in! I get dry mouth really bad now that I'm pregnant and this helps with that. It also helps with the nausea! If I don't chew it, can I keep it in?" I apologized but told her no.

As I got back to my desk I started thinking about that. It was essentially "I'm pregnant so the rules don't apply to me. I'm entitled to different things, because I'm pregnant. You should let me do what I want, because it helps me and I'm pregnant." Congratulations, lady, your uterus works. Your ovaries work. Your hormones work. Your husband has super-sperm. Woo for you.

No. Being a healthy individual with working parts does not entitle you to jack shit. To go a step further, it really doesn't matter HOW you got pregnant. It doesn't matter if you were on BCP, the shot, the condom broke, it was planned. It doesn't matter if you had to do IUI, IVF, DE, surrogacy. It doesn't matter if it took 6 weeks, 6 months, 6 years. Just because you managed to somehow, someway get pregnant it does not mean you are entitled to anything more than anyone else. You get the same treatment, and if you don't, you should.

In thinking about all this, I walked to the kitchen Sunday morning to get a drink and noticed the picture on the fridge that has bothered me for a while now. It's one of those magnetic picture frames and says "Grandchildren Make Memories". It's been up on the fridge forever, but didn't have any pictures in it. This past summer, her stepdaughter and her children came to visit us, at the same time that Giggles and Chuckles were moving in. Family photos were done, and the MIL put them up in the photo frame. There were pictures taken of MIL, FIL and all the kids. Pictures of Chuckles and Giggles and the MIL and FIL. You get the idea. The only one missing from any of those photos...is me. Aaron is in them, because he is one of the kids. Giggles is in there because she's carrying the first great-grandchild. I am the only one not there, because I am not one of the children or grandchildren, and I am not carrying any either. For several months I cringed and felt a stabbing pain every time I went to the fridge. the pics are at eye level for me, so there is no avoiding them. Over time it has stopped hurting. When I went to the fridge, I realized it no longer hurt and I got thinking about entitlement again.

As infertiles, we have our own sense of entitlement. We expect the world to be gentler with us, to try and understand us, simply because we can't (for whatever reason) conceive and carry a child to full term. This is not to say that people shouldn't be tactful - they should, as IF is a disease like any other and carries it's own set of problems. Along that vein, however, it would be akin to asking cancer survivors not to talk to cancer patients because it's too painful. The survivors speak to give hope, not to say "HA! I made it and you aren't." We expect so much more though; we expect people to understand when we don't want to be around pregnant people, when we don't attend church because we can't handle seeing babies. We lose friends because we can't reconcile ourselves to the fact that they have what we want. We break one of the commandments - "thou shalt not covet" - and expect everyone to pat us on the back and say "it's ok. We understand" and then get angry when they don't.

Yes, people are assholes. Yes, people are idiots who don't "get it". Yes, people are people. How many times before you found out you were pregnant did you say to someone "you just need to relax" or "you're so lucky you don't have kids; you can go anywhere you want" or any of the other things we get so furious about? We are no less guilty than anyone else, and to pretend otherwise is hypocritical. We are not entitled to jack shit, just like the non-infertiles.

As I was thinking about all this and talking to Aaron, i realized something else, and I know this is going to go over like a ton of bricks. We CHOOSE to be upset because we are infertile. That's right, I said we CHOOSE it. Instead of focusing on the good things in our lives, celebrating the joy around us, indulging in the babies we can be around, we choose to be angry, bitter, self-centered. We push people away, refuse to have anything to do with babies. We choose to be angry when our friends are pregnant, when people make stupid remarks, when our MIL's put photos up in our face that are missing us because we can't have children. Instead of being angry, smile. Know that the people who are making stupid comments are either lucky enough not to have to go through what we've been through, or that they just don't know what to say in response but feel the need to say something because society teaches us to do that. Know that your MIL is lucky to have people in her life who CAN have children, that she is blessed to have grandchildren from someone - she's a proud grandmother, just like every other grandmother out there. She's just unlucky enough to be related to you. :) Have joy that our friends have children that they will let us play with, take care of, spoil any time we want...and that if we ever get out of the trenches, they'll gladly reciprocate. Work in the nursery at church - indulge in the babies every week, knowing that these little lives are just beginning.

I won't say that I'm not still bitter, because in some ways I am. But I think I can see the light. I'm trying to learn to be happy with what I have, instead of throwing a hissy fit for what I can't have like a toddler would. So I can't have children - I have a husband who loves me, cats who love and annoy me, family who supports me. I would love to pass on everything my mother taught me to my child...but if I can't, maybe I can pass it on to my friends' children instead. But now, instead of telling people that we've been trying for 4 years to have a child, I simply tell them that we can't have them and leave it at that. It no longer matters how long we've been trying - we know the answer now. Someone said in response to that the other day "You shouldn't say that - you don't know for certain." She's right - I don't. But for now, I do. If I get proven wrong, it won't be the first time in my life and I'm sure it won't be the last. I said nothing in response, just smiled and thought "she's lucky she doesn't know."

Monday, April 07, 2008

Chuckles and Giggles Saga, Chapter 3036

As promised, here is the latest in that saga.

We've always known that Giggles' mom is batshit insane. She's been telling Giggles since she got pregnant that she was going to take the baby and raise it, because she always wanted more babies. Aaron and I have suspected since first hearing this that she was serious. She even bought an entire nursery for her home "just in case they decided to come back and live with her and for when they visit".

Well...I'm sure you can guess what I'm going to tell you. Chuckles and Giggles took the baby over to her mother's house for her to babysit. Mom then refused to give the baby back. One would think they'd call the cops, but no. Apparently they decided to bide their time, because the roommates that they had did drugs and they didn't want to cops to take the baby away from them. They also knew that her parents were going out of town, so they decided they'd get the baby back then. Sure enough, parents went out of town and left the baby with grandma. Grandma ALSO refused to give the baby back. Chuckles' parents drove over and the four of them went to take the baby back. Grandma...punched Chuckles in the face. Cops were called then, who basically said "Why are you not giving these people their baby back? You have no right to do that. Give them their baby back!" Chuckles and Giggles have now moved to another state and are living with Chuckles' parents.

And the kicker? Giggles is pregnant again.

I'm so glad they don't live with us anymore.

Karma is a bitch

If you look at my last post, you will see that I said "things are relatively calm". Karma was apparently waiting for me to hit publish and when I did, she popped out and said "gotcha, bitch!"

Thursday night I ended up getting into another fight with my drunken brother. Drunk AND stoned, I should say. It started with a text message that said "Nobody want2 talk2 a drunklove?!" I sent one back asking him what in the hell he was talking about. I received a message back that said "UNO what the fuck? So thanku 4 the knowledge & the hello. HIGH" He then called me. I asked him if he'd been drinking and he said yes. I told him I didn't want to talk to him because he was unreasonable when drunk and he told me that it didn't matter, he was the same sober and drunk. Bear in mind that it was 11:10pm when this started. I told him I didn't have time for this, that I had class in the morning and needed to go to bed. Goodnight, Bro. He kept saying "sis, sis...wait." I repeated goodnight a few times, and hung up. I then got the next series of message in a row. First was "I still love U, butt c u at a later, still c U again!Goodness" followed by "Yes! I am drunk stones along & missing my seed of Missoree" (his daughter is in Missouri) and then "Suck it easy & loose my number! Feeling is mute", a repeat of the UNO text and ended with "Talk later when u get a grip on life & death, love & loss in life. Still love U throughout!" I have decided that I am no longer speaking to my brother when he's had anything to drink...and it is the first question I am going to ask him when he calls from now on. He no longer calls our sister when he's drunk because she lays into him...and I'm not going to either.

I am torn on the subject, though. On the one hand, he's my brother. Granted that he's been missing for 2/3 of my life, but he's still my brother. I want to try and help him, let him know that he has a support system. On the other hand...SO not my problem. He's 37 years old for pete's sake. He needs to grow up. You play the hand that life dealt you and you do the best you can with it. Yes, he had it rough growing up and yes, I had it easy comparatively speaking and so really I don't have room to talk. But I ALSO know that you can't live as a victim your whole life and you have to take responsibility for your actions. As my counselor told me "Things happen. What matters is not that they did, but how we react to them. No one can make you do things - it is your choice." I agree. I don't need my brother in my life, I don't want to put up with his shit and I don't have to...so I won't. I just hope I can stick to that.

Major update on the inlaws: They're MOVING OUT! WAHOO! JUMP FOR JOY! Everyone come on! Jump around! Dance in your living room! WOOT!!!! YEEHAW! Ok, now that I have THAT could of my system I suppose you want details. The bank finally got back to them, saying that they could not accept their bid but would accept $100K. I think I posted earlier that they originally thought they couldn't work that. Well, they have now gotten the loan approved through their bank and the payments are workable for them. Saturday they went and accepted the banks offer and signed papers. :) ROCK ON! I don't know how long until they move out - depends on the bank and the sellers. The house is currently occupied so I don't know how big of a time frame that gives us. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel and it isn't a train!

There is more for me to tell you, as there is another chapter in the Chuckles and Giggles saga...but I have to go to class. I will also be making an update on Colorful Medication later on - a good update. :)

Thursday, April 03, 2008

Blogoversary

Once again I have let my blogoversary slip by me without a word. I have been writing here sporadically for 2 years as of March 31. Yay me?

As I came her today I realized it had been over a month since I'd written. Why? I don't know. Perhaps I don't have much to say these days, or I have so much going that I don't have time to write, or I'm just too lazy to remember. The truth is all three.

There really isn't much going on in my life at the moment. Everything is calm for once; I'm not stressing over anything too much. Mom is relatively stable - and I will post more on that on the blog I have dedicated to that scene. My inlaws are still living with us, although they have put a bid in on a house and are just waiting on the sellers bank to approve it. THAT'S a nightmare in the making - I'll get back to it in a second. I'm doing ok, despite having my first colonoscopy this past Tuesday. I'd had some bleeding that didn't want to quit for a few months so I got checked out. Tuesday was the day, and it took them 9 tries to finally get an IV in me, and they ended up putting in my foot after blowing out two veins in my hands. Blech. The semester is more than halfway over - I think I only have about 6 weeks left. I've got an A in my documenting class, will probably pass my health management class, and will be content if I manage to yank a C+ out of physiology.

Inlaws: The sale is a "short sale", meaning the sellers are willing to sell the house for less than they owe. They, however, do not get to make the decision - the bank down. I don't know what the house was going for, but they offered $93K. The got the approval on the loan from their bank last week. The sellers' bank is now 2 weeks late getting the inlaws an answer. Technically the bank has broken the contract, but my inlaws really want this house and so are willing to wait. MIL says "Well, at least they haven't declined us; rejections are swift" and she has a point. The bank has approved one short sale on this house before, for $108K, but they took so long that the buyers found another place. MIL and FIL won't be finding another place...this is what they want. I just can't believe that MIL isn't on their case about this - God knows I would be!

I'm sorry about the lack of updates - there's nothing exciting going on, so I don't really have anything to post. I keep promising myself I'll get better, but I don't. Eh - maybe someday, but don't hold your breath.