I was sitting in the patio area at Starbucks with my recently married friend, A.
We were sipping iced teas and catching up when the young man came up to us and asked for change.
Of course, he had a story, and whether his version was true or not- He said he needed $1.25 to catch the bus, and I will spare you the (long convoluted) back story, but he claimed that a friend had stolen $80 from his wallet, and he'd arrived at Starbucks to get a coffee and opened his wallet to find zero dinero. Since he had a bag containing a cable box from the Xfinity store, he could have been telling the truth.
I have implemented a policy where I will give out spare change. No folding money. If I have it, I have it, if I don't, sorry. Yeah, I have a policy, because it seems like I get asked for change everywhere I go, lately.
As it turns out, I had $1.50 in quarters and dimes. I gave him the requested bus fare. He said, "Thank you so much! And I know it's early, but Happy Mother's Day!"
It was like a knife to the heart. I somehow forgot it was coming. All the dreams I had last fall, thinking this would be the year I finally get to celebrate, just rushed over me.
Yesterday, I went to a function where a casual acquaintance was there with her two daughters. One has a child, but is divorced- the other is single. She was joking around, saying that she would take them out for lunch for Mother's Day, in the spirit of untapped potential, so maybe they would give her some more grandchildren. "Just think of how many eggs are in those ovaries! You need to use them before they all dry up!" The daughter with the child smiled and made a joke of it; the unmarried daughter looked like she wanted to sink through the floor. And I just couldn't control the expression on my face. I don't even know what it was, just that it was like I was wearing a mask, and the acquaintance asked, "Jen? Are you OK?" And I don't even remember what I said to her. Probably something reassuring.
I managed to make reservations for lunch for my Mom today. We've become a lot closer since we moved back. I have honestly been a lot happier, which helps. My brother will hopefully show up to celebrate with my parents, and The Man and I, since he is in town for the weekend. I don't want to ruin this, Mom deserves her day unsullied by meltdowns, so hopefully I have gotten all my typical emo crap out of my system.
Last night, in the car on the way to dinner with friends, I was telling The Man about the episode with the mother and her two children. And he said, "I have been thinking. We need to move forward. I don't want to stop trying to have biological children, but I think it's time to start looking into adoption. I am still not thrilled with the idea, but we have been waiting long enough for this phase of our lives to start, and my main concern is that I might not bond with an adopted child- but maybe some research will make me feel better about it."
I am still shocked. And so, amazingly grateful. When he uttered those words, it was like a huge weight was lifted off of me. I feel the same way- I don't want to stop trying, but I don't want to wake up at 42 and still be childless. That part of me that has been so angry and resentful with him for so long over the inequity of the situation was so deeply ingrained, and I just tried to bury it deeply enough so I could forget about it, but- looking over the last few years, and reading entries in this blog, I realized how it's just been poisoning me.
Whatever happens, I think I just received my first Mother's Day gift- a day early. My road to motherhood may not be conventional, but I finally feel like I am on my way. I have definitely earned my stripes.
Showing posts with label out and about. Show all posts
Showing posts with label out and about. Show all posts
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Friday, August 31, 2012
Who's Who
OK. After today's appointment, it is looking like Option C. I still really only have one dominant follicle on the left.
Righty is still ticking along though. The follicle that was at 7 Wednesday is up to 10 today- and it has a teeny, tiny friend, as well. Maybe I will end up with a bonus, as opposed to "too little, too late." Fingers crossed! Lefty is hanging tough with a 15.
So: Operation Carbonite is launching. I talked to Dr. Charming, and got financial info today. Honestly, it's not that much more expensive....actually less expensive, without the whopping drug order from Freedom Pharmacy. We signed up for a three month tour. Natural Cycle IVF. Here we go!
I am keeping up with my Cetritide, but tonight is my last Menopur dose- and Gonal-F has been slashed, down to 150 IU's. I go in for yet another ultrasound on Sunday, and then the big retrieval is on Tuesday. Hopefully we can get an embryo out of this. If we do- that will be the closest I have ever knowingly gotten to getting pregnant. Fingers crossed.
In the meantime, I have gotten addicted to Dr. Who. Which is good, because it's very "fluffy" sci-fi- entertaining and distracting, both qualities I require in a TV show at this point. And I can knit AND watch at the same time!
Today is a good day. I want to be out and about- I may actually go out in public and do some shopping!
Righty is still ticking along though. The follicle that was at 7 Wednesday is up to 10 today- and it has a teeny, tiny friend, as well. Maybe I will end up with a bonus, as opposed to "too little, too late." Fingers crossed! Lefty is hanging tough with a 15.
So: Operation Carbonite is launching. I talked to Dr. Charming, and got financial info today. Honestly, it's not that much more expensive....actually less expensive, without the whopping drug order from Freedom Pharmacy. We signed up for a three month tour. Natural Cycle IVF. Here we go!
I am keeping up with my Cetritide, but tonight is my last Menopur dose- and Gonal-F has been slashed, down to 150 IU's. I go in for yet another ultrasound on Sunday, and then the big retrieval is on Tuesday. Hopefully we can get an embryo out of this. If we do- that will be the closest I have ever knowingly gotten to getting pregnant. Fingers crossed.
In the meantime, I have gotten addicted to Dr. Who. Which is good, because it's very "fluffy" sci-fi- entertaining and distracting, both qualities I require in a TV show at this point. And I can knit AND watch at the same time!
Today is a good day. I want to be out and about- I may actually go out in public and do some shopping!
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Holy Toledo
Of course, after I wrote my obligatory, "You know what? I am fine!" post yesterday and signed off....there was the unmistakable rumble of thunder on the not-so distant horizon. The kind where you know that soon the music is going to start, and the funny guy (or the stupid girl, or both) is going to die.
By the end of the day, Hurricane Hormones was in full effect, and woe betide anyone who got in my way. Luckily, I recognized the signs, and forced myself to leave my cocoon/nest/fortress to get provisions before things got really, really bad.
I somehow managed to make it through without bludgeoning the Trader Joe's cashier to death with a can of coconut milk while screaming, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? ARE YOU HIGH!!!!!!!!?"
I seriously don't know how I did it, because generally, a. everyone around here IS high 75% of the time, and b. by the time I got home, I was apoplectic about the way my groceries were bagged. Something that I would typically roll my eyes over and maybe merit a sigh, became a SUPER HUGE DEAL. The Man listened to me spew crazy profanity while I alternately vented, laughed about how insanely I was behaving, and then started venting again. I've turned into some kind of obsessive-compulsive bipolar lunatic, seemingly overnight. I think that KNOWING you're carrying on like a psycho, but being unable to help yourself, may be one of life's more frustrating experiences.
Mom called to ask how I was doing. I said, "I am getting a divorce and running away from home!" and then burst into hysterical laughter. I am sure she found it really reassuring.
God it's hot in here. Is anyone else hot? Just me? I am wearing pajama shorts and a tank top and the a/c is on and all the fans are maxed out. I look at The Man, and he is wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt- layered OVER another shirt. My face is all red, I am all sticky and gross. I am ready to strip down and run screaming through the streets, bludgeoning any potentially doobie-smoking members of the populace with my handbag, and spewing profanity at douchebag cyclists- identifiable by their spandex outfits- at random.
This can't be good. Luckily The Man has promised to restrain me if I get really wacky. At this point, I don't know if he can stop me. Demon hormones are more powerful than- really powerful stuff. Also, if I leave him, who can be relied upon to build me a bed of ice? Did I mention how effing hot it is?! RARGH!
That's another thing. I tend to rely on my wits somewhat, and they have completely deserted me. DAMN YOU HORMONES!!!!! You made me crazy, hot, AND stupid. I hate you! Unless you prove to actually work, in which case, hormones, I may forgive you. Eventually.
My doctor's appointment is tomorrow afternoon. I talked to Dr. Charming today, and he basically said that I am right- depending on what we see tomorrow, we will move forward. If there's still only one follicle, we can still do that, but the chances aren't great. Or we can cancel the cycle, and try again next month.
I was all good, until he mentioned donor eggs, and then I got all emo. (BECAUSE MY EGGS ARE OBVS ALL OLD AND REPTILIAN IN THEIR BARREN LEATHERINESS.) <----see that? Those are the hormones talking. Bastards!
Have I mentioned that I SUCK at waiting? Because that would not be an inaccurate statement.
By the end of the day, Hurricane Hormones was in full effect, and woe betide anyone who got in my way. Luckily, I recognized the signs, and forced myself to leave my cocoon/nest/fortress to get provisions before things got really, really bad.
I somehow managed to make it through without bludgeoning the Trader Joe's cashier to death with a can of coconut milk while screaming, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? ARE YOU HIGH!!!!!!!!?"
I seriously don't know how I did it, because generally, a. everyone around here IS high 75% of the time, and b. by the time I got home, I was apoplectic about the way my groceries were bagged. Something that I would typically roll my eyes over and maybe merit a sigh, became a SUPER HUGE DEAL. The Man listened to me spew crazy profanity while I alternately vented, laughed about how insanely I was behaving, and then started venting again. I've turned into some kind of obsessive-compulsive bipolar lunatic, seemingly overnight. I think that KNOWING you're carrying on like a psycho, but being unable to help yourself, may be one of life's more frustrating experiences.
Mom called to ask how I was doing. I said, "I am getting a divorce and running away from home!" and then burst into hysterical laughter. I am sure she found it really reassuring.
God it's hot in here. Is anyone else hot? Just me? I am wearing pajama shorts and a tank top and the a/c is on and all the fans are maxed out. I look at The Man, and he is wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt- layered OVER another shirt. My face is all red, I am all sticky and gross. I am ready to strip down and run screaming through the streets, bludgeoning any potentially doobie-smoking members of the populace with my handbag, and spewing profanity at douchebag cyclists- identifiable by their spandex outfits- at random.
This can't be good. Luckily The Man has promised to restrain me if I get really wacky. At this point, I don't know if he can stop me. Demon hormones are more powerful than- really powerful stuff. Also, if I leave him, who can be relied upon to build me a bed of ice? Did I mention how effing hot it is?! RARGH!
That's another thing. I tend to rely on my wits somewhat, and they have completely deserted me. DAMN YOU HORMONES!!!!! You made me crazy, hot, AND stupid. I hate you! Unless you prove to actually work, in which case, hormones, I may forgive you. Eventually.
My doctor's appointment is tomorrow afternoon. I talked to Dr. Charming today, and he basically said that I am right- depending on what we see tomorrow, we will move forward. If there's still only one follicle, we can still do that, but the chances aren't great. Or we can cancel the cycle, and try again next month.
I was all good, until he mentioned donor eggs, and then I got all emo. (BECAUSE MY EGGS ARE OBVS ALL OLD AND REPTILIAN IN THEIR BARREN LEATHERINESS.) <----see that? Those are the hormones talking. Bastards!
Have I mentioned that I SUCK at waiting? Because that would not be an inaccurate statement.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Mischief Managed
Would you believe that it took three stops to try to get my Counsyl test dropped off yesterday?
The first one was my fault, as I was convinced it was RiteAid that had the FedEx drop-off. Nope. It was CVS. So then I drove over there, and they evidently have not been taking FedEx packages since March- and Fed Ex had not seen fit to update their website. I was directed to go to the FedEx/Kinko's in San Rafael. "Right across from the KFC!"
Maybe it is a testament to my abdication from fast food that I had no freaking clue where the KFC was. I drove around lost for a little while (I had foolishly left my Phablet/The Precious at home, so had no GPS- which effectively made me helpless) and finally returned home to ask The Man.
"Oh, I know right where that is!" exclaimed my junk food devotee. "It's right by a KFC and Taco Bell Combo drive through." Hmph.
So he drove me over there, and I dropped my vial of saliva (inside a bag inside a box inside another bag) into the FedEx receptacle- albeit, after a temporary waffling on whether my spit could be considered "hazardous substances"- which are strictly prohibited by the signage on the drop-off box. Sadly, the conclusion was that I didn't care, and just wanted to be rid of the thing, but I did at least make the crucial distinction that nobody who has come into contact with my saliva has ever died (to my knowledge), and that I don't wear a green spandex outfit and call myself "Poison Ivy". So it would probably be fine.
After being so close to forbidden food and not being allowed to acknowledge it, The Man decided that leftover roasted chicken at home wasn't going to be his thing, so we went to Max's. Ribeye (what else) for him, and salmon for me. They do have gluten-free cheesecake there, and The Man looked at me pleadingly, but I was just not in the mood. After wearing me down for a bit, I said I would order a scoop of ice cream and a gluten-free cookie. To keep him company. Yes, I am occasionally stupid.
When the scoop got there, it was in a giant sundae glass, and contained nearly a pint of actual ice cream. The cookie, it had been previously explained, was in a package of six. "But they're small!" said the waitress, reassuringly, making a round shape between her thumb and forefinger. "Roughly the size of a silver dollar."
FYI: the cookies were at least twice that size- i.e., completely normal sized cookies. I ate one, and about 5 spoonfuls of ice cream- I couldn't even get down close to the top of the giant sundae glass. I had to take the rest home in a tupperware, along with the other 5 cookies. Never again.
I may be happy to have a stash, because things are percolating along. I finally got the second line on the OPK kit, which means I should be right on track for my usual Day 14. The Man is on notice, and I am trying to get the house cleaned up, as I was out of commission with excruciating back pain the entire last half of my last cycle- REALLY hoping that doesn't happen again!!
The first one was my fault, as I was convinced it was RiteAid that had the FedEx drop-off. Nope. It was CVS. So then I drove over there, and they evidently have not been taking FedEx packages since March- and Fed Ex had not seen fit to update their website. I was directed to go to the FedEx/Kinko's in San Rafael. "Right across from the KFC!"
Maybe it is a testament to my abdication from fast food that I had no freaking clue where the KFC was. I drove around lost for a little while (I had foolishly left my Phablet/The Precious at home, so had no GPS- which effectively made me helpless) and finally returned home to ask The Man.
"Oh, I know right where that is!" exclaimed my junk food devotee. "It's right by a KFC and Taco Bell Combo drive through." Hmph.
So he drove me over there, and I dropped my vial of saliva (inside a bag inside a box inside another bag) into the FedEx receptacle- albeit, after a temporary waffling on whether my spit could be considered "hazardous substances"- which are strictly prohibited by the signage on the drop-off box. Sadly, the conclusion was that I didn't care, and just wanted to be rid of the thing, but I did at least make the crucial distinction that nobody who has come into contact with my saliva has ever died (to my knowledge), and that I don't wear a green spandex outfit and call myself "Poison Ivy". So it would probably be fine.
After being so close to forbidden food and not being allowed to acknowledge it, The Man decided that leftover roasted chicken at home wasn't going to be his thing, so we went to Max's. Ribeye (what else) for him, and salmon for me. They do have gluten-free cheesecake there, and The Man looked at me pleadingly, but I was just not in the mood. After wearing me down for a bit, I said I would order a scoop of ice cream and a gluten-free cookie. To keep him company. Yes, I am occasionally stupid.
When the scoop got there, it was in a giant sundae glass, and contained nearly a pint of actual ice cream. The cookie, it had been previously explained, was in a package of six. "But they're small!" said the waitress, reassuringly, making a round shape between her thumb and forefinger. "Roughly the size of a silver dollar."
FYI: the cookies were at least twice that size- i.e., completely normal sized cookies. I ate one, and about 5 spoonfuls of ice cream- I couldn't even get down close to the top of the giant sundae glass. I had to take the rest home in a tupperware, along with the other 5 cookies. Never again.
I may be happy to have a stash, because things are percolating along. I finally got the second line on the OPK kit, which means I should be right on track for my usual Day 14. The Man is on notice, and I am trying to get the house cleaned up, as I was out of commission with excruciating back pain the entire last half of my last cycle- REALLY hoping that doesn't happen again!!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Meditations on a To-Do List
#1 is, I shit you not, "Drop spit off at the Rite Aid."
I should probably explain this.
My R.E. handed me a blue box when I was there, and explained that I needed to take a saliva sample and send it in. The company name is Counsyl, and it offers preventive genetic testing for- well, actually, a pretty amazing rate. It's $350 or so with no insurance, but hopefully Kaiser will absorb $250 of it or so.
I mean: let's face it, they have samples of pretty much every other bodily fluid I can produce. Why not saliva too?! So I have a vial of spit- inside a bag, inside a box, inside a FexEx medical sample pouch. Evidently asking FexEx to pick something up requires credit card info, so I will be schlepping it to the drop-off center at the Rite Aid down the street.
In other news, I haven't grown those furry epaulettes I worried about yet. However, I am only administering 1 pump of the gel, which (now that I can bring myself to look at the bottle) is only 25% of the usual minimum manly dose. And this kind of makes me wonder- the guy instructions are to apply to the shoulders and: I think, the sides of the body? One pump handily douses both my shoulders. The thought of having to find enough surface area to accommodate four pumps of that stuff is a bit daunting. So I am relieved, but now off on a completely different mental tangent.
I do think the gel is to blame for a couple of new developments: namely, attractive hormonal acne that is forming around my mouth in a telltale circular fashion, and the fact that I am tired. Neither of those things are very welcome. But there are good things: I think it's doing some kind of number on my metabolism. It makes me wonder if my big problem this whole time has been some kind of hormonal imbalance. It's also working the way the R.E. wanted it to. I am getting sharp pings on the left and the right this month, so the ol' ovaries are both evidently cooking something up.
As my AMH and FSH values flag me as a potentially poor responder to drugs, this is amazing news. Hopefully, it is not all in my head. I am also worried because I got a high temperature this morning- which, if it continues, will mean I ovulated early. Which is good news in a way- my IVF cycle will start sooner than I had hoped! But bad news because they may need to add another drug to my protocol to keep me on schedule.
Since I used an OPK kit yesterday and got a "No Way Jose", I am either worrying about nothing- or I tested too late (on Day 10! Whaaaaat?!) and missed the LH surge. Unlikely, but possible. I am also not experiencing the crippling back pain of my last cycle- I could tell you the minute ovulation occurred, because I was hobbling around like Quasimodo. It got more bearable, but was still present for the rest of my cycle. I hope it isn't like that this time around- I have to get stuff done!
I should probably explain this.
My R.E. handed me a blue box when I was there, and explained that I needed to take a saliva sample and send it in. The company name is Counsyl, and it offers preventive genetic testing for- well, actually, a pretty amazing rate. It's $350 or so with no insurance, but hopefully Kaiser will absorb $250 of it or so.
I mean: let's face it, they have samples of pretty much every other bodily fluid I can produce. Why not saliva too?! So I have a vial of spit- inside a bag, inside a box, inside a FexEx medical sample pouch. Evidently asking FexEx to pick something up requires credit card info, so I will be schlepping it to the drop-off center at the Rite Aid down the street.
In other news, I haven't grown those furry epaulettes I worried about yet. However, I am only administering 1 pump of the gel, which (now that I can bring myself to look at the bottle) is only 25% of the usual minimum manly dose. And this kind of makes me wonder- the guy instructions are to apply to the shoulders and: I think, the sides of the body? One pump handily douses both my shoulders. The thought of having to find enough surface area to accommodate four pumps of that stuff is a bit daunting. So I am relieved, but now off on a completely different mental tangent.
I do think the gel is to blame for a couple of new developments: namely, attractive hormonal acne that is forming around my mouth in a telltale circular fashion, and the fact that I am tired. Neither of those things are very welcome. But there are good things: I think it's doing some kind of number on my metabolism. It makes me wonder if my big problem this whole time has been some kind of hormonal imbalance. It's also working the way the R.E. wanted it to. I am getting sharp pings on the left and the right this month, so the ol' ovaries are both evidently cooking something up.
As my AMH and FSH values flag me as a potentially poor responder to drugs, this is amazing news. Hopefully, it is not all in my head. I am also worried because I got a high temperature this morning- which, if it continues, will mean I ovulated early. Which is good news in a way- my IVF cycle will start sooner than I had hoped! But bad news because they may need to add another drug to my protocol to keep me on schedule.
Since I used an OPK kit yesterday and got a "No Way Jose", I am either worrying about nothing- or I tested too late (on Day 10! Whaaaaat?!) and missed the LH surge. Unlikely, but possible. I am also not experiencing the crippling back pain of my last cycle- I could tell you the minute ovulation occurred, because I was hobbling around like Quasimodo. It got more bearable, but was still present for the rest of my cycle. I hope it isn't like that this time around- I have to get stuff done!
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The once-a-month blog
I thought I would stick my head in and say hi. :)
So....Mother's Day.
I admit to feeling a little sensitive about it, still. The commercials still give me a pang, and I am putting off looking for my card for Mom until the last minute.
I am not sure if it's the fact that I am no longer injecting enough hormones into my abdomen to kill a goat, or the fact that I have transitioned. But something happened to me today that would have sent me over the edge a few months ago.
I walked into a class of second-grade kids, and the teacher was, obviously, expecting. Par for the course so far.
As I set up, the kids were putting the final touches on their Mother's Day presents- cute collages of drawings and photos, and the stray thought crossed my mind, "I wonder if I will ever get one of those."
I have learned to nip thoughts like that in the bud. That way lies madness.
The class was actually really fun- second grade is just the best age ever! We did our experiments, and talked about what we learned, and I asked for questions.
A little girl raised her hand and asked if I was pregnant. At this point, I started wondering if someone had it in for me, because...hello?
Ironically, nobody has ever, EVER asked if I was prego before. Thank God!
The logical part of my mind was still working overtime, and inspired by the look of horror on the teacher's face, I just laughed. I know it was a combo of factors- the teachers' pregnancy, plus my lab coat is freaking huge on me now. Operation Hot Momma is still going strong. Thanks to thirty pounds lost, I need to put some darts in the front of my coat! (This incident may inspire me to actually do it.)
The fact is, I have never ever even had a positive pregnancy test. The idea that it may happen is getting to the point where it is laughable- and that was my reaction!
I just flattened my baggy coat against my tummy, and said, "No, sweetie. My coat is just too big for me. But it would be cool if I had a little Mad Scientist in here, wouldn't it?" The kids (of course) thought that was hilarious, and we moved on.
It wasn't until I got out to the car that I realized how devastated I would have been a few months ago. And I have to admit, it stings a little, but surprisingly, I am OK.
That's just surreal. I am OK.
So....Mother's Day.
I admit to feeling a little sensitive about it, still. The commercials still give me a pang, and I am putting off looking for my card for Mom until the last minute.
I am not sure if it's the fact that I am no longer injecting enough hormones into my abdomen to kill a goat, or the fact that I have transitioned. But something happened to me today that would have sent me over the edge a few months ago.
I walked into a class of second-grade kids, and the teacher was, obviously, expecting. Par for the course so far.
As I set up, the kids were putting the final touches on their Mother's Day presents- cute collages of drawings and photos, and the stray thought crossed my mind, "I wonder if I will ever get one of those."
I have learned to nip thoughts like that in the bud. That way lies madness.
The class was actually really fun- second grade is just the best age ever! We did our experiments, and talked about what we learned, and I asked for questions.
A little girl raised her hand and asked if I was pregnant. At this point, I started wondering if someone had it in for me, because...hello?
Ironically, nobody has ever, EVER asked if I was prego before. Thank God!
The logical part of my mind was still working overtime, and inspired by the look of horror on the teacher's face, I just laughed. I know it was a combo of factors- the teachers' pregnancy, plus my lab coat is freaking huge on me now. Operation Hot Momma is still going strong. Thanks to thirty pounds lost, I need to put some darts in the front of my coat! (This incident may inspire me to actually do it.)
The fact is, I have never ever even had a positive pregnancy test. The idea that it may happen is getting to the point where it is laughable- and that was my reaction!
I just flattened my baggy coat against my tummy, and said, "No, sweetie. My coat is just too big for me. But it would be cool if I had a little Mad Scientist in here, wouldn't it?" The kids (of course) thought that was hilarious, and we moved on.
It wasn't until I got out to the car that I realized how devastated I would have been a few months ago. And I have to admit, it stings a little, but surprisingly, I am OK.
That's just surreal. I am OK.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Finding your joy
I have been reading a lot.
Specifically, a lot of books about the emotional side of eating, which is something that I have a problem with.
I know what I need to do to lose weight- let's face it, we all do, because we hear about the obesity epidemic every stinking day. Eat right and exercise. And if it was easy, we'd all just do it to shut THEM up.
So in retrospect, the link between the cookies and the progesterone suppositories (back in the day) was simply that my body was saying, "I feel like crap. Give me something to fix it." Well, plus, who doesn't like cookies? Voila! Chocolate and sugar. Problem solved, for now.
Anyway. One book in particular talks about the joy you get from eating, and how if you get 95% of your joy from eating, but are unhappy with everything else in your life, it doesn't matter what diet you go on, or how many crunches you do. If you want to lose weight, you need to find alternate sources of joy before you start your journey. Otherwise, failure is pretty much a given.
It strikes me that this is applicable in so many different ways than just eating. I have a lot of different coping mechanisms- sarcasm, defensivess, humor. Joy isn't really my go-to emotion when things in one part of my life aren't going the way that I want, and I suspect it's that way for most people.
Another aspect of the whole weight thing is control. Losing weight for other people is something that I have tried before, either willingly or reluctantly. Oddly enough, the fact that it was also something that I wanted was nullified by the desires and intentions of others, somehow.
Let's face it, when you are 12, and it's your birthday, and someone you love dearly asks if you REALLY want to eat that scoop of ice cream...well. There's that part of you that says, "YES! I want to eat it! And I will eat TWO scoops of it, just to spite you."
Because you know, you're 12, and your eating is one of the few things that you have control over.
If you've ever tried to get a three year old to eat her peas- same basic principle, just in reverse. You can rationalize, you can bribe, you can threaten, punish, and plead, but short of child abuse, there isn't really any way to make her do what you want, and she knows it. She is in control, and that is probably the only situation in her life that she has control over.
If you read parenting blogs, you know that this is a common problem, and the kid learns that their parent is so desperate to keep them from getting scurvy that they'll try anything to get them to eat something besides peanut butter on Saltines.
But I digress.
My point (I do have one) is that Operation Hot Momma is my way of finding my joy, and my way of saying that I do have some measure of control over my body. Nobody suggested this, nobody said I had to do it or die of heart disease.
Feeling like I can control anything about my body after dealing with IF is a welcome change. I didn't feel like my body belonged to me for a long time. I threw vitamins and hormones into it, kept alcohol out of it, stuck it with needles, subjected it to blood tests, and at the end of thing, I just felt like my soul was chained to a big piece of meat that didn't have anything to do with me.
I don't feel like that anymore. Thank God!
I am slowly finding more things to be joyful about. My relationship with The Man. My ridiculous pets. My job, and the kids that I love. The adventure we are about to embark on in the Bay Area. Writing. Dancing. Driving the convertible with the top down.
I am also learning not to avoid the things that freak me out. I have wasted a lot of time doing that, and missed a lot of opportunites because of it. I try to ask myself why something is bothering me so much, and sometimes, the answer is so ridiculous or shocking that it just ceases to be a problem.
A month ago, my whole family got together (for the first time since the Thanksgiving debacle) and I was...well, on edge. Predictably, it didn't go well. I will spare you the gory details, but the worst of it was that a couple my parents were friends with came up, got introduced to all of us, and proceeded to gush about how they now had three grandchildren, who were just the best thing ever. And I felt everyone's eyes on me, and predictably, I felt like a huge disappointment.
Then I thought about it later, and the reason I felt so awful wasn't really because of IF. It was that I felt like I was disappointing my parents(again). It was totally about keeping up with the Joneses (or whatever their names were, I can't remember.) It was also about how everyone was looking at me like I was a time bomb ready to go off, and ohmigod, they must think that I am crazy.
So I wasn't worried so much about the actual baby thing. Just my parent's potential involvement in the Grandparent Olympics and what other people were thinking about me, neither of which I have any control over. Phew!
Clarity is strange. Wonderful, but also kind of scary.
Specifically, a lot of books about the emotional side of eating, which is something that I have a problem with.
I know what I need to do to lose weight- let's face it, we all do, because we hear about the obesity epidemic every stinking day. Eat right and exercise. And if it was easy, we'd all just do it to shut THEM up.
So in retrospect, the link between the cookies and the progesterone suppositories (back in the day) was simply that my body was saying, "I feel like crap. Give me something to fix it." Well, plus, who doesn't like cookies? Voila! Chocolate and sugar. Problem solved, for now.
Anyway. One book in particular talks about the joy you get from eating, and how if you get 95% of your joy from eating, but are unhappy with everything else in your life, it doesn't matter what diet you go on, or how many crunches you do. If you want to lose weight, you need to find alternate sources of joy before you start your journey. Otherwise, failure is pretty much a given.
It strikes me that this is applicable in so many different ways than just eating. I have a lot of different coping mechanisms- sarcasm, defensivess, humor. Joy isn't really my go-to emotion when things in one part of my life aren't going the way that I want, and I suspect it's that way for most people.
Another aspect of the whole weight thing is control. Losing weight for other people is something that I have tried before, either willingly or reluctantly. Oddly enough, the fact that it was also something that I wanted was nullified by the desires and intentions of others, somehow.
Let's face it, when you are 12, and it's your birthday, and someone you love dearly asks if you REALLY want to eat that scoop of ice cream...well. There's that part of you that says, "YES! I want to eat it! And I will eat TWO scoops of it, just to spite you."
Because you know, you're 12, and your eating is one of the few things that you have control over.
If you've ever tried to get a three year old to eat her peas- same basic principle, just in reverse. You can rationalize, you can bribe, you can threaten, punish, and plead, but short of child abuse, there isn't really any way to make her do what you want, and she knows it. She is in control, and that is probably the only situation in her life that she has control over.
If you read parenting blogs, you know that this is a common problem, and the kid learns that their parent is so desperate to keep them from getting scurvy that they'll try anything to get them to eat something besides peanut butter on Saltines.
But I digress.
My point (I do have one) is that Operation Hot Momma is my way of finding my joy, and my way of saying that I do have some measure of control over my body. Nobody suggested this, nobody said I had to do it or die of heart disease.
Feeling like I can control anything about my body after dealing with IF is a welcome change. I didn't feel like my body belonged to me for a long time. I threw vitamins and hormones into it, kept alcohol out of it, stuck it with needles, subjected it to blood tests, and at the end of thing, I just felt like my soul was chained to a big piece of meat that didn't have anything to do with me.
I don't feel like that anymore. Thank God!
I am slowly finding more things to be joyful about. My relationship with The Man. My ridiculous pets. My job, and the kids that I love. The adventure we are about to embark on in the Bay Area. Writing. Dancing. Driving the convertible with the top down.
I am also learning not to avoid the things that freak me out. I have wasted a lot of time doing that, and missed a lot of opportunites because of it. I try to ask myself why something is bothering me so much, and sometimes, the answer is so ridiculous or shocking that it just ceases to be a problem.
A month ago, my whole family got together (for the first time since the Thanksgiving debacle) and I was...well, on edge. Predictably, it didn't go well. I will spare you the gory details, but the worst of it was that a couple my parents were friends with came up, got introduced to all of us, and proceeded to gush about how they now had three grandchildren, who were just the best thing ever. And I felt everyone's eyes on me, and predictably, I felt like a huge disappointment.
Then I thought about it later, and the reason I felt so awful wasn't really because of IF. It was that I felt like I was disappointing my parents(again). It was totally about keeping up with the Joneses (or whatever their names were, I can't remember.) It was also about how everyone was looking at me like I was a time bomb ready to go off, and ohmigod, they must think that I am crazy.
So I wasn't worried so much about the actual baby thing. Just my parent's potential involvement in the Grandparent Olympics and what other people were thinking about me, neither of which I have any control over. Phew!
Clarity is strange. Wonderful, but also kind of scary.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Getting my sparkle back
That's what my friends said when we looked at the pictures we took this weekend. (I finally uploaded one!)
The three of us spent the weekend in Carmel, and we had a fabulous time meandering all over, eating snacky things and knitting, and oh yes, venting. We all covered a lot of territory- One just got emotionally sideswiped by the guy she was dating, the other is going through a divorce and reinventing herself after almost 10 years of marriage. And of course, I have my own issues.
It seems like every time I leave town, I have an epiphany. This epiphany involved my relationship with food, my relationship with my family, my relationship with God, and my relationship with my body. None of those relationships is particularly comforting or healthy, and they haven't been for quite some time. I feel like all those relationships have let me down. No wonder I was such a mess. My faith was gone. I had exhausted my reserves of inner strength, and I know now that I had never felt so hopeless and alone.
It took time in the company of two very good friends to figure that out. I am light years away from the funk that I was in during the unending IF cycles, but I still have a long, long way to go.
The clarity that I experience when I am taken out of my element is somewhat frightening. It makes me think of what that psychic said, about my hometown being a toxic environment for me. Something to wonder about, I guess!
That said, I am closer to happiness than I have been in a long time. I seem to be focusing more on what I have accomplished than what my life is lacking. I am forging ahead in a bunch of ways. And Operation Hot Momma is still in full swing. I am down 20 lbs so far. It helps to focus on my success so far, and not look at the finish line- just focus on what I am doing now, and taking things one small step at a time. If I look at the big picture, I will freak out and give up again, and I can't let myself do that.
There's a lot going on- my job is changing. I am taking on several new challenges, and getting my ducks in a row to go back to school. The Man went up to the Bay Area this weekend, in order to schedule the next six months. It's really happening.
I missed you guys, by the way. Hope everything's going well!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Juno
I went and saw Juno yesterday.
I have to admit, I was a little worried, and some of the scenes made me tense up in my seat to the point that I squirmed uncomfortably. However, I didn't overly abuse my one pathetic Kleenex.
After that random disclaimer, I have to say that I loved this movie. It was hilarious and quirky, and just one of those movies that you walk out of feeling satisfied and vaguely vindicated. And yes, Chris, I want the soundtrack. It kind of grows on you.
YMMV- I am glad I watched it with my girlie buddies, and not The Man. Because there is one part that made me SO MAD at my husband (without the benefit of his having done anything wrong) that I probably would have reached over and pinched him repeatedly just to relieve my seething feelings.
Irrational? Well, maybe. But I guess there is a good reason, because I am in the throes of possibly THE worst PMS I have ever had. I mean it, I woke up with my back spasming two days ago, cramps, you name it, and I was in full attack mode for about a week before that, when any little thing could set me off. Considering that I usually lead a crampless existence, have no mood swings (aside from a little ditziness) and just take a prolonged nap the day before AF arrives, this is interesting news.
I hope you all are having fantastic weekends that don't involve any back spasming. I don't recommend it.
I have to admit, I was a little worried, and some of the scenes made me tense up in my seat to the point that I squirmed uncomfortably. However, I didn't overly abuse my one pathetic Kleenex.
After that random disclaimer, I have to say that I loved this movie. It was hilarious and quirky, and just one of those movies that you walk out of feeling satisfied and vaguely vindicated. And yes, Chris, I want the soundtrack. It kind of grows on you.
YMMV- I am glad I watched it with my girlie buddies, and not The Man. Because there is one part that made me SO MAD at my husband (without the benefit of his having done anything wrong) that I probably would have reached over and pinched him repeatedly just to relieve my seething feelings.
Irrational? Well, maybe. But I guess there is a good reason, because I am in the throes of possibly THE worst PMS I have ever had. I mean it, I woke up with my back spasming two days ago, cramps, you name it, and I was in full attack mode for about a week before that, when any little thing could set me off. Considering that I usually lead a crampless existence, have no mood swings (aside from a little ditziness) and just take a prolonged nap the day before AF arrives, this is interesting news.
I hope you all are having fantastic weekends that don't involve any back spasming. I don't recommend it.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Sorry.
Oh boy.
I have written this post a couple of times, and nothing that I committed to typing could sum up what I was trying to convey. Suffice it to say, I don't want to be melodramatic or anything- I am just kind of tapped out.
All of my energy has been going into work. I took over another teacher's classes, so I have gone from teaching 2-3 classes a day to 5 or 6. Several of those are an hour drive, each way. With that and the gym, my time is just getting sucked into oblivion. Also, The Man is finishing college and has started his weekends in the Bay Area, so any free time we have seems to get spent with each other.
Another reason I haven't blogged is that my last post just scared me. I wrote it from a bad place,and it's pretty obvious when I read it that when I say I am content to sit and wait, that's just a big fat lie.
Sitting and waiting is something that I am stuck with. I am feeling that acutely right now, and just trying to pour myself into other pursuits that I can at least have some measure of success with. I am a great teacher, so I am teaching. I am also in great shape for someone my size, and am feeling healthier spiritually, emotionally, and physically, with each passing day.
I can tell that the change in activity level and nutrition is doing something to my body. I am pissed off that I let myself be deluded into thinking that making these changes might be detrimental to my fertility journey. Different fertility indicators have gotten stronger, and that's as blunt as I am going to get. You guys put up with enough from me!
That being said, not much to report. I just didn't feel that it was "fair" to post, because I know how generous you guys all are with your support, and I haven't had any support to give in return. What I really needed was a break, and I took one, and while I am still kinda "meh", I will take "meh" over psychotic and weepy any day of the week.
I missed you guys. How are you doing?
I have written this post a couple of times, and nothing that I committed to typing could sum up what I was trying to convey. Suffice it to say, I don't want to be melodramatic or anything- I am just kind of tapped out.
All of my energy has been going into work. I took over another teacher's classes, so I have gone from teaching 2-3 classes a day to 5 or 6. Several of those are an hour drive, each way. With that and the gym, my time is just getting sucked into oblivion. Also, The Man is finishing college and has started his weekends in the Bay Area, so any free time we have seems to get spent with each other.
Another reason I haven't blogged is that my last post just scared me. I wrote it from a bad place,and it's pretty obvious when I read it that when I say I am content to sit and wait, that's just a big fat lie.
Sitting and waiting is something that I am stuck with. I am feeling that acutely right now, and just trying to pour myself into other pursuits that I can at least have some measure of success with. I am a great teacher, so I am teaching. I am also in great shape for someone my size, and am feeling healthier spiritually, emotionally, and physically, with each passing day.
I can tell that the change in activity level and nutrition is doing something to my body. I am pissed off that I let myself be deluded into thinking that making these changes might be detrimental to my fertility journey. Different fertility indicators have gotten stronger, and that's as blunt as I am going to get. You guys put up with enough from me!
That being said, not much to report. I just didn't feel that it was "fair" to post, because I know how generous you guys all are with your support, and I haven't had any support to give in return. What I really needed was a break, and I took one, and while I am still kinda "meh", I will take "meh" over psychotic and weepy any day of the week.
I missed you guys. How are you doing?
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Shut Up and Drive
Yeah, this song is a staple on my workout playlist. Go Rihanna!
The doggies did great this weekend. I am so proud of them. We kept them on their leashes, since neither of them is ready yet to be able to run free at the beach, and their anxiety about all the other off-leash dogs kind of hampered my ability to take pictures, but we still had a great time. Predictably, Bear plunged right into the ocean, up to his chest, while Bosco delicately avoided the tiny lapping waves. They're so funny. It was a big weekend- first time seeing the ocean, first time experiencing stairs, first time being around so many other dogs.
They did great at Mom and Dad's place. No begging, no "accidents" (well, there may have been one, but luckily mom and dad were out, and they have hardwood floors. I won't tell if you won't!). They stayed off the furniture and hung out on their blanket in front of the fire and just kind of blissed out the whole time.
Considering that the last time my parents saw our dogs, they were slavering and barking and hurling themselves against our sliding glass door, this behavior was a total 180. My parents were actually so impressed with how they behaved that they are getting the Dog Whisperer book for my brother and his wife for Christmas. (We still haven't exchanged gifts yet.)
It was nice getting away, being outside and active, and not having to worry about holiday crap. We had a good, solid, relaxing trip. Yay!
There was a weird moment with my mother. I had picked up a copy of People magazine, with a very PG Jennifer Lopez on the cover. My mom noticed I was scanning the article, and made a face.
"Do you like her?"
"I am just interested. I think she did IVF, so I wanted to check out if the article says anything. I doubt it, but you never know."
"Why on earth did they try to keep it a secret for so long?" she asked. "It just seems stupid."
"Well...I am guessing that she's been infertile for awhile, and maybe had some recurrent miscarriages or something," I said, flatly. "I wouldn't want that whole heartache plastered in every tabloid under the sun."
My mom, who admittedly isn't overly fond of JLo, gave me a look that I can only describe as stunned.
"I didn't even think of that..." she said, and dropped the subject.
I do wish that celebs would be more open abut the fact that they use assisted reproductive technologies. This whole taboo just needs to be gone.
I have been doing a lot of reading- in addition to the Margolis book and the Newsweek article mentioned in the last post, my sister-in-law got me The Golden Compass trilogy, and I seem to have burned through it in two days.
I plan to talk about the Margolis book more in-depth tomorrow, but here's the general consensus: I liked it. It was a very open, honest read, with a a lot of general information about the roads that infertility leads you down. There's a lot of info about surrogacy, which is nothing we have ever considered, but it's what Cindy and her husband did, so that is a perspective that was interesting for me to read about.
I am considering giving it to my mom to look at once I am done with it.
The doggies did great this weekend. I am so proud of them. We kept them on their leashes, since neither of them is ready yet to be able to run free at the beach, and their anxiety about all the other off-leash dogs kind of hampered my ability to take pictures, but we still had a great time. Predictably, Bear plunged right into the ocean, up to his chest, while Bosco delicately avoided the tiny lapping waves. They're so funny. It was a big weekend- first time seeing the ocean, first time experiencing stairs, first time being around so many other dogs.
They did great at Mom and Dad's place. No begging, no "accidents" (well, there may have been one, but luckily mom and dad were out, and they have hardwood floors. I won't tell if you won't!). They stayed off the furniture and hung out on their blanket in front of the fire and just kind of blissed out the whole time.
Considering that the last time my parents saw our dogs, they were slavering and barking and hurling themselves against our sliding glass door, this behavior was a total 180. My parents were actually so impressed with how they behaved that they are getting the Dog Whisperer book for my brother and his wife for Christmas. (We still haven't exchanged gifts yet.)
It was nice getting away, being outside and active, and not having to worry about holiday crap. We had a good, solid, relaxing trip. Yay!
There was a weird moment with my mother. I had picked up a copy of People magazine, with a very PG Jennifer Lopez on the cover. My mom noticed I was scanning the article, and made a face.
"Do you like her?"
"I am just interested. I think she did IVF, so I wanted to check out if the article says anything. I doubt it, but you never know."
"Why on earth did they try to keep it a secret for so long?" she asked. "It just seems stupid."
"Well...I am guessing that she's been infertile for awhile, and maybe had some recurrent miscarriages or something," I said, flatly. "I wouldn't want that whole heartache plastered in every tabloid under the sun."
My mom, who admittedly isn't overly fond of JLo, gave me a look that I can only describe as stunned.
"I didn't even think of that..." she said, and dropped the subject.
I do wish that celebs would be more open abut the fact that they use assisted reproductive technologies. This whole taboo just needs to be gone.
I have been doing a lot of reading- in addition to the Margolis book and the Newsweek article mentioned in the last post, my sister-in-law got me The Golden Compass trilogy, and I seem to have burned through it in two days.
I plan to talk about the Margolis book more in-depth tomorrow, but here's the general consensus: I liked it. It was a very open, honest read, with a a lot of general information about the roads that infertility leads you down. There's a lot of info about surrogacy, which is nothing we have ever considered, but it's what Cindy and her husband did, so that is a perspective that was interesting for me to read about.
I am considering giving it to my mom to look at once I am done with it.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Vortex
Crazy couple of weeks- including finding out that I was going to need to host Christmas morning this year- 24 hours in advance. AIIIGH! I did pull it off, which unfortunately means that we may be doing it every year from now on. Oops!
It's funny- I haven't been posting a lot, mainly because I stepped off the IF rollercoaster. Without all the blood draws, injections, meds, ultrasounds, etc, it just feels like I don't have a lot to contribute lately.
I have been doing some research though. I bought the Newsweek that talks about "Fertility and Diet". Of course, they are very careful to state that it's "anovulatory infertility" that they are talking about, but still an interesting read.
In other news, I got contacted by someone regarding the new book coming out on Jan 2. by Cindy Margolis: HAVING A BABY…WHEN THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY ISN’T WORKING: Hope and Help for Everyone Facing Infertility.
I agreed to review it, and they offered at least one extra copy to give away on my blog! I haven't been keeping up with blogs, so you all might be reviewing too! ;) But so far, it is a good read, and I have a lot to say about it.
In the meantime, I hope you guys are having a wonderful holiday season. I have to say that Christmas was seriously better than Thanksgiving. Of course, it could hardly have been worse! Christmas was epic in comparison, actually. And no, I never did send out cards. Hopefully, we'll have something to announce next Christmas to make sending them worthwhile!
We're both still going to the gym. I have lost around 5 lbs, and The Man has lost his double chin. Operation Hot Mama is still going strong.
We're trying to figure out more ways to have fun and exercise and be active- two or three activities involve our dogs, which means there is a new project ahead.
Here's a pic of both the little hellions:
The blonde is Bear, and the black shaggy guy is Bosco. Bear actually used to be a "problem dog"- acting out, pooping in the house, jumping the fence (ok, the last one hasn't been addressed yet) and then some kind angel lent us the book by Cesar Milan, otherwise known as "The Dog Whisperer."
As it turns out, we weren't the owners of a "problem dog". We were the problem. It's worked like magic. Tonight, The Man told Bear, "Get in the tub, Bear!" so we could give him a bath. And he very meekly did. And this is the same dog that would have to be wrestled in every time before this. It's like crazy doggie voodoo.
The Man and I are heading for the coast tomorrow- with dogs in tow, to try to socialize them, and treat them to a ride in the car and maybe some good frolicking time at the beach. They haven't gotten to hang out much with other dogs, so we want to get them used to it- plans to visit the dog park are imminent, but have been postponed several times because our guys can be pretty wild. We plan to take pictures, and will hopefully escape with our lives.
It's funny- I haven't been posting a lot, mainly because I stepped off the IF rollercoaster. Without all the blood draws, injections, meds, ultrasounds, etc, it just feels like I don't have a lot to contribute lately.
I have been doing some research though. I bought the Newsweek that talks about "Fertility and Diet". Of course, they are very careful to state that it's "anovulatory infertility" that they are talking about, but still an interesting read.
In other news, I got contacted by someone regarding the new book coming out on Jan 2. by Cindy Margolis: HAVING A BABY…WHEN THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY ISN’T WORKING: Hope and Help for Everyone Facing Infertility.
I agreed to review it, and they offered at least one extra copy to give away on my blog! I haven't been keeping up with blogs, so you all might be reviewing too! ;) But so far, it is a good read, and I have a lot to say about it.
In the meantime, I hope you guys are having a wonderful holiday season. I have to say that Christmas was seriously better than Thanksgiving. Of course, it could hardly have been worse! Christmas was epic in comparison, actually. And no, I never did send out cards. Hopefully, we'll have something to announce next Christmas to make sending them worthwhile!
We're both still going to the gym. I have lost around 5 lbs, and The Man has lost his double chin. Operation Hot Mama is still going strong.
We're trying to figure out more ways to have fun and exercise and be active- two or three activities involve our dogs, which means there is a new project ahead.
Here's a pic of both the little hellions:
The blonde is Bear, and the black shaggy guy is Bosco. Bear actually used to be a "problem dog"- acting out, pooping in the house, jumping the fence (ok, the last one hasn't been addressed yet) and then some kind angel lent us the book by Cesar Milan, otherwise known as "The Dog Whisperer."
As it turns out, we weren't the owners of a "problem dog". We were the problem. It's worked like magic. Tonight, The Man told Bear, "Get in the tub, Bear!" so we could give him a bath. And he very meekly did. And this is the same dog that would have to be wrestled in every time before this. It's like crazy doggie voodoo.
The Man and I are heading for the coast tomorrow- with dogs in tow, to try to socialize them, and treat them to a ride in the car and maybe some good frolicking time at the beach. They haven't gotten to hang out much with other dogs, so we want to get them used to it- plans to visit the dog park are imminent, but have been postponed several times because our guys can be pretty wild. We plan to take pictures, and will hopefully escape with our lives.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Operation Hot Mama
The Man and I have joined a gym. (If you want specifics, you can read more here.)
It wasn't something I was specifically looking to do. I am in fact already a member of a women's gym across town. But I am bad about going....and now a new gym just opened up around the corner from us. It has a pool. The Man has been wanting to train for an officer position, which requires him to be in fantastic shape, with the ability to swim 1500 meters.
He told me this, and while I managed to successfully contain my laughter, this is a man who has never set foot in a gym EVER, and who tends to consider a lengthy afternoon of computer web surfing strenuous activity.
However, I am nothing if not supportive.
So we signed on the dotted line. My reasoning is, I have spent the last couple of years TRYING so hard to get pregnant, and nothing has worked. Maybe switching the focus towards "getting healthy" will be helpful, and maybe my body will figure out what to do on its own. Or not. But as The Man put it, "We may not be parents, but we will be HAWT! At least, this is kind of a guaranteed thing."
Thanks babe.
The added bonus is that I suddenly have a whole lot of time with him, and we are seeing new sides of each other, which you tend to do when you're up at 4:30 AM and struggling bleary-eyed into spandex pants.
Me: This time of day needs a name.
The Man: "The Time of Day That Shall Not Be Named"?
Me: I was thinking more like, "Satan's Buttcrack".
Guess which one we chose?
I have also accomplished a staggering amount by 8AM- Gone to the gym, gotten back, made breakfast and packed lunches for both of us, found a recipe for Peanut Chicken online and threw the ingredients in the crockpot, started cleaning out the fridge.
It's insane. Of course, the downside is, we will be exhausted and ready for bed around 7PM.
Now I have to call FedEx because those arsebrains seem to have lost The Man's Christmas gift. Which shows as "delivered", but never was. %^&*!
It wasn't something I was specifically looking to do. I am in fact already a member of a women's gym across town. But I am bad about going....and now a new gym just opened up around the corner from us. It has a pool. The Man has been wanting to train for an officer position, which requires him to be in fantastic shape, with the ability to swim 1500 meters.
He told me this, and while I managed to successfully contain my laughter, this is a man who has never set foot in a gym EVER, and who tends to consider a lengthy afternoon of computer web surfing strenuous activity.
However, I am nothing if not supportive.
So we signed on the dotted line. My reasoning is, I have spent the last couple of years TRYING so hard to get pregnant, and nothing has worked. Maybe switching the focus towards "getting healthy" will be helpful, and maybe my body will figure out what to do on its own. Or not. But as The Man put it, "We may not be parents, but we will be HAWT! At least, this is kind of a guaranteed thing."
Thanks babe.
The added bonus is that I suddenly have a whole lot of time with him, and we are seeing new sides of each other, which you tend to do when you're up at 4:30 AM and struggling bleary-eyed into spandex pants.
Me: This time of day needs a name.
The Man: "The Time of Day That Shall Not Be Named"?
Me: I was thinking more like, "Satan's Buttcrack".
Guess which one we chose?
I have also accomplished a staggering amount by 8AM- Gone to the gym, gotten back, made breakfast and packed lunches for both of us, found a recipe for Peanut Chicken online and threw the ingredients in the crockpot, started cleaning out the fridge.
It's insane. Of course, the downside is, we will be exhausted and ready for bed around 7PM.
Now I have to call FedEx because those arsebrains seem to have lost The Man's Christmas gift. Which shows as "delivered", but never was. %^&*!
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Call screening
Hooray for tree decorating! I am slowly filling in the bare spots on our blue spruce.
These guys didn't make the cut for the top of the tree- they'll go down firther, where kitties have a habit of playing pinata with them.
______________
"Jen! Grab your phone!"
I was scrambling to get ready, because we wanted to catch the matinee for The Golden Compass. I heard the ringer getting louder, which means that The Man has nabbed my phone.
"It says private caller."
I grabbed my keys and sunglasses, and started struggling with my jacket while the ringing stops.
"It's gotta be your parents, do you want to call them back?"
"Sweetie, I just want to have a good day. I can't see them saying anything that I want to hear. Besides, we're running late."
We headed out to the car, and I hopped in, managing to balance all the crap tht I take with me.
He gave me a narrow look, because we both know that ignoring things isn't really the way to go.
I sighed, and picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hi Mom."
"Hey Jen! That was fast."
After a few seconds of inconsequential chitchat, she brought it up, again. She and Dad must have had another talk. The gist of what she said was that they were in a position to help us, and the 50% idea was in case they needed to help on more than one cycle. I explained that we only wanted to do one cycle. If that didn't work, we would need to either explore other avenues to becoming parents, or we would hopefully be in a position to take care of costs ourselves.
There was a pause. "I don't want you guys to limit yourselves because of money. I feel like we got our wires crossed. I thought I told you that Dad and I wanted a little more info before we could give you a definite answer."
I did the verbal equivalent of shrugging, and politely changed the subject.
Maybe at some point, we will get desperate enough to take them up on it. For now, however, it's just not worth it to me. I am glad she called and clarified matters, but I am going to acknowledge that this road is just not going to be easy, and I think I would rather be in debt to a bank than to my parents when I am thinking reasonably about it.
Anyway. The Golden Compass fell a little flat, after that. I had a hard time watching some of the scene, since a lot of them involved children being kidnapped. But the special effects were great. I added the series of books to my endless wishlist on Amazon.
Monday, November 26, 2007
We should have brought a tent
I feel so guilty. I have not been keeping up with blogs.
Mainly because I am not sure how to tell you guys about the disaster that was Thanksgiving/my birthday.
I feel incredibly ungrateful when I think about everything that went "wrong". And boy howdy, I am glad I am not in the middle of another infertility cycle on top of all of it, because that would have just been...well.
Here are a few things that may or may not have happened:
1. Hanging out with my sis and sis-in-law (who look like Angelina Jolie and Mandy Moore, respectively) made me feel like a beluga whale. An old, ugly beluga whale encrusted with moldy barnacles.
2. I bought and wrapped my own birthday gift from my husband, who didn't even bother to get me a card.
3. I showed up at the house, and realized that nobody else had bothered to get me anything, either.
4. Except for a birthday cake, which I was obscenely grateful for. Until my mom put it on a low shelf for a second when she was getting ready to serve it and my brothers dogs licked half the frosting off of it. Nobody really wanted it after that.
5. I mentioned the "couch-to-5K" program I am doing, and got to see the shifty looks that obviously meant, "Yeah right."
6. The phone call from my aunt who asked, "And how young are you today?" and when I said, "33" she sighed and said, "How time does fly!" In a way that was supposed to be consoling, but since my age doesn't bother me, I just wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her.
7. Mom said she would take me out shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. We stayed in town and avoided the mall. I didn't find anything I liked, and all the shopping was for other people. Dad showed up halfway through the day with a ring he bought for me as a surprise. It was the one nice thing that anyone had done, and I was almost teary.
8. Then Mom said, "Well, it's from both of us! Happy Birthday! Let's go home."
9. Then we got home, and Dad had bought identical rings for my sister and s-i-l.
10. My sister, who has a habit of wearing very thin pajamas and bending over and revealing half of her butt and all of her thong, decided to change clothes in the room that The Man and I stayed in. After dinner. Without locking the door, or utilizing the en-suite bathroom with a door that closes. The inevitable happened, and The Man walked in on her.
I should back this up by saying that The Man has commented on this before, and my sister just isn't modest on the same level that I am. In any event, I have discussed with my parents that my husband knows way too much about my sister's anatomy, and aside from saying, "Well, you know what she's like" and "we're in close quarters in that house"....yeah. I never knew how to bring it up.
I was furious. she kept protesting, "But he didn't see anything! I covered up!!" and I would just say, "What he saw is not the POINT. The POINT is that if you are changing in someone else's room, you make an effort to be respectful, and you tell them, or lock the door, or use the bathroom!"
It ended up with me leaving the house by myself at 9PM and walking down to the beach and staring sightlessly at the waves. The Man was watching movies with Dad and my brother, and I didn't want to make a scene, I just wanted to be gone.
I stayed gone for nearly an hour. As I was getting close to the house, I rounded the corner and saw my husband, who had been waiting for me.
He just kept repeating that he was sorry. Did I want to leave? Yes, I had every right to feel the way I did. He felt bad that he had screwed up my birthday.
We walked back to the house, and I stayed holed up in the room until bedtime. I eventually came out to try to have a sane conversation with my sister, which degraded into:
Her: "My blue pajamas are not see-through."
Me: "I assure you, they are."
Her: "They totally are not!"
Me: "Do you want me to give you the diameter of your nipples in centimeters? "
Her: "You're obviously just have a grudge and you're holding all this stuff against me. It's YOUR problem, not mine. How am I supposed to control what everyone sees?!"
Me: "That's an interesting perspective. Somehow, I manage to get through a family weekend without everyone seeing MY underwear. It's not rocket science."
Her:"You're just being unreasonable."
Me: "I don't feel that it's so unreasonable to ask that you not flash your crotch at my husband from across the room. Or to be respectful and lock the door when you're changing in our room."
Her: "I didn't know I was flashing! And he didn't see anything, tonight! I covered up with a towel."
It went around and around, and on, and on. I finally said, "Look, all I am asking you is to be a little more modest around my husband. That's it."
We said goodnight and went to bed. I made my point, and in the process, l think I killed my friendship with my sister.
I am so glad to be home. But that's really the only thing I am glad about right now.
Mainly because I am not sure how to tell you guys about the disaster that was Thanksgiving/my birthday.
I feel incredibly ungrateful when I think about everything that went "wrong". And boy howdy, I am glad I am not in the middle of another infertility cycle on top of all of it, because that would have just been...well.
Here are a few things that may or may not have happened:
1. Hanging out with my sis and sis-in-law (who look like Angelina Jolie and Mandy Moore, respectively) made me feel like a beluga whale. An old, ugly beluga whale encrusted with moldy barnacles.
2. I bought and wrapped my own birthday gift from my husband, who didn't even bother to get me a card.
3. I showed up at the house, and realized that nobody else had bothered to get me anything, either.
4. Except for a birthday cake, which I was obscenely grateful for. Until my mom put it on a low shelf for a second when she was getting ready to serve it and my brothers dogs licked half the frosting off of it. Nobody really wanted it after that.
5. I mentioned the "couch-to-5K" program I am doing, and got to see the shifty looks that obviously meant, "Yeah right."
6. The phone call from my aunt who asked, "And how young are you today?" and when I said, "33" she sighed and said, "How time does fly!" In a way that was supposed to be consoling, but since my age doesn't bother me, I just wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her.
7. Mom said she would take me out shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. We stayed in town and avoided the mall. I didn't find anything I liked, and all the shopping was for other people. Dad showed up halfway through the day with a ring he bought for me as a surprise. It was the one nice thing that anyone had done, and I was almost teary.
8. Then Mom said, "Well, it's from both of us! Happy Birthday! Let's go home."
9. Then we got home, and Dad had bought identical rings for my sister and s-i-l.
10. My sister, who has a habit of wearing very thin pajamas and bending over and revealing half of her butt and all of her thong, decided to change clothes in the room that The Man and I stayed in. After dinner. Without locking the door, or utilizing the en-suite bathroom with a door that closes. The inevitable happened, and The Man walked in on her.
I should back this up by saying that The Man has commented on this before, and my sister just isn't modest on the same level that I am. In any event, I have discussed with my parents that my husband knows way too much about my sister's anatomy, and aside from saying, "Well, you know what she's like" and "we're in close quarters in that house"....yeah. I never knew how to bring it up.
I was furious. she kept protesting, "But he didn't see anything! I covered up!!" and I would just say, "What he saw is not the POINT. The POINT is that if you are changing in someone else's room, you make an effort to be respectful, and you tell them, or lock the door, or use the bathroom!"
It ended up with me leaving the house by myself at 9PM and walking down to the beach and staring sightlessly at the waves. The Man was watching movies with Dad and my brother, and I didn't want to make a scene, I just wanted to be gone.
I stayed gone for nearly an hour. As I was getting close to the house, I rounded the corner and saw my husband, who had been waiting for me.
He just kept repeating that he was sorry. Did I want to leave? Yes, I had every right to feel the way I did. He felt bad that he had screwed up my birthday.
We walked back to the house, and I stayed holed up in the room until bedtime. I eventually came out to try to have a sane conversation with my sister, which degraded into:
Her: "My blue pajamas are not see-through."
Me: "I assure you, they are."
Her: "They totally are not!"
Me: "Do you want me to give you the diameter of your nipples in centimeters? "
Her: "You're obviously just have a grudge and you're holding all this stuff against me. It's YOUR problem, not mine. How am I supposed to control what everyone sees?!"
Me: "That's an interesting perspective. Somehow, I manage to get through a family weekend without everyone seeing MY underwear. It's not rocket science."
Her:"You're just being unreasonable."
Me: "I don't feel that it's so unreasonable to ask that you not flash your crotch at my husband from across the room. Or to be respectful and lock the door when you're changing in our room."
Her: "I didn't know I was flashing! And he didn't see anything, tonight! I covered up with a towel."
It went around and around, and on, and on. I finally said, "Look, all I am asking you is to be a little more modest around my husband. That's it."
We said goodnight and went to bed. I made my point, and in the process, l think I killed my friendship with my sister.
I am so glad to be home. But that's really the only thing I am glad about right now.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Notes from The Great Beyond, Continued.
If you haven't read the first part of this, you should probably check it out here.
If my writing sounds stilted, it's because English is not this guy's first language. While, I think he is German or Austrian, not Italian, he reminded me of no one so much as Bruno Tomnioli, the crazy judge from Dancing With The Stars, maybe because he uses incredibly offbeat metaphors. He also gave off a kind of...ahem, Eurotrash vibe- longish hair, little mod boots that zipped up the sides. He fidgeted a lot, with the zippers on his boots, with the tape recorder, with his slim-cut jacket.
It came time to stop the freestyle reading, where he just blurted things out at me. We went into future predictions. I chose cards, and he interpreted them for me.
"Yes, Jenna, you are definitely going to be a mother soon." he said. "Motherhood is in your aura, and the soul of your child is already out there waiting to be born. Definitely a mother once, before 35, maybe twice, although that will be up to you. I don't see you being satisfied without having some kind of career. I am not saying that you will not have two, but it's up in the air depending on what you decide. You are a person who will pour everything into your children. You will feel that it would not be fair to have a new baby when you will be so focused on career. "
Ooooookay. At this point, my hopes were up incredibly high, and he just lost me. This was a bit too new-agey for me to handle. Also, it didn't sound like me, but then, I am not focused on career yet. However, I guess the reason that he tells you crazy things that you already know about yourself at the very beginning is that when he gets out there like this, you think, "Well, he was right about this other stuff. Maybe I should give him a chance."
There was a long silence. "Allright." I said. He smiled, and just looked at me.
"Your child will be a boy," he said. "You will know, even before he is born that he is going to be a big, robust, and ACTIVE child!" At this point, he burst into peals of laughter, and my heart quailed within me.
As a child, The Man was a menace. I hear stories of his shenanigans all the time Not to mention huge- as an adult, he's about 6'5", compared to my modest 5'7". And was in the 99th percentile for head size at birth, as my MIL likes to remind me constantly. I suddenly realized that I had started mentally turning over becoming more charitable about the idea of a c-section.
"Your child will be driven...so bright! And athletic. He will excel at sports...more than one. Colleges will fight over him."
Holy crap!
I always always always have said that if I had a kid like The Man, I would make sure he was active in sports, to keep him or her focused and on the rails. Part of me was thinking this, and the other part just kept muttering, "This has to be a fairy tale. This is too perfect to be true."
He continued, "You and your husband are the best possible parents for this child. Your parents were not right for you, his were," (at this point, he threw his hands up in the air) "just AWFUL!"
He stopped short and said, "Your husband is fortunate in his choice of a wife. He knows how much. Most women would have looked at his parents and either shut down or run away. You can only deal with such people by digging in and standing your ground, and you are such a very unusual combination- so sensitive, so diplomatic, but so hard-headed! And your husband is stubborn too. He had to be, to survive in that environment."
At that point, I burst into involuntary laughter. Right before The Man went overseas, we had just gotten married, and I had a blowout with his mom, over something that she had either mis-heard or completely imagined (what time we were going to be there for Thanksgiving). She ruined the holiday for everyone by acting like a lunatic. It ended with her telling my husband that his family was more important than his wife. She demanded an apology from me, and I was pushed to my limit. I refused to give her one. I said I would apologize for the misunderstanding, and she refused to acknowledge that there was one. So I didn't talk to his family the whole time The Man was overseas, and even beyond....almost a year.
This is getting unbearably long. Let me get to the weirdest part.
I asked about children again. Specifically, when? He shook his head.
"Soon. Not tomorrow....that would be miserable for you. You are not in the right phase to have children, not yet. It is not about time, it is about timing. I do not see it happening until after you move. You're in a stagnant environment, it is becoming toxic. It is not time for a baby yet. You have had these thoughts yourself. You will not have a baby until you leave this environment.
Then he said something that really pissed me off. "Once you are in the right place, in the right environment, there should be no problem having your son. I don't think you'll need to try for two years to have your son." He snapped his fingers. "Like that."
At this point, I kind of erupted out, "We have been trying for five years, and nothing has worked!"
He shook his head. "You are both so healthy. There's nothing biologically wrong with either of you. I don't see falling pregnant even being an issue for you. But it isn't going to happen until you move."
He paused. "Have you seen specialists?" I nodded. "Do they have any ideas, solutions? Extra fertilizer so something? "
Well....no, they don't.
I shook my head, and he smiled indulgently. "The reason they can't figure out what is wrong, is because there is nothing they can do about it. It is something you need to do. Remember, timing, not time. Stop worrying about your age. You are so young! It's more about where you are mentally than what the calendar says. And until you move, you will not be in the right place to have children."
There was a lot more about career, and about my family. He closed with, "Make sure you drink more water. You've been bad about that lately."
Well.....it's true! I have.
I am not sure how I feel. Skeptical? Oh yes, that's there. But the agonizing "What if''s" seem to have been quelled, at least for now.
I told The Man about it, and he thinks that I am nuts, but is glad that I feel better.
What do you guys think?
If my writing sounds stilted, it's because English is not this guy's first language. While, I think he is German or Austrian, not Italian, he reminded me of no one so much as Bruno Tomnioli, the crazy judge from Dancing With The Stars, maybe because he uses incredibly offbeat metaphors. He also gave off a kind of...ahem, Eurotrash vibe- longish hair, little mod boots that zipped up the sides. He fidgeted a lot, with the zippers on his boots, with the tape recorder, with his slim-cut jacket.
It came time to stop the freestyle reading, where he just blurted things out at me. We went into future predictions. I chose cards, and he interpreted them for me.
"Yes, Jenna, you are definitely going to be a mother soon." he said. "Motherhood is in your aura, and the soul of your child is already out there waiting to be born. Definitely a mother once, before 35, maybe twice, although that will be up to you. I don't see you being satisfied without having some kind of career. I am not saying that you will not have two, but it's up in the air depending on what you decide. You are a person who will pour everything into your children. You will feel that it would not be fair to have a new baby when you will be so focused on career. "
Ooooookay. At this point, my hopes were up incredibly high, and he just lost me. This was a bit too new-agey for me to handle. Also, it didn't sound like me, but then, I am not focused on career yet. However, I guess the reason that he tells you crazy things that you already know about yourself at the very beginning is that when he gets out there like this, you think, "Well, he was right about this other stuff. Maybe I should give him a chance."
There was a long silence. "Allright." I said. He smiled, and just looked at me.
"Your child will be a boy," he said. "You will know, even before he is born that he is going to be a big, robust, and ACTIVE child!" At this point, he burst into peals of laughter, and my heart quailed within me.
As a child, The Man was a menace. I hear stories of his shenanigans all the time Not to mention huge- as an adult, he's about 6'5", compared to my modest 5'7". And was in the 99th percentile for head size at birth, as my MIL likes to remind me constantly. I suddenly realized that I had started mentally turning over becoming more charitable about the idea of a c-section.
"Your child will be driven...so bright! And athletic. He will excel at sports...more than one. Colleges will fight over him."
Holy crap!
I always always always have said that if I had a kid like The Man, I would make sure he was active in sports, to keep him or her focused and on the rails. Part of me was thinking this, and the other part just kept muttering, "This has to be a fairy tale. This is too perfect to be true."
He continued, "You and your husband are the best possible parents for this child. Your parents were not right for you, his were," (at this point, he threw his hands up in the air) "just AWFUL!"
He stopped short and said, "Your husband is fortunate in his choice of a wife. He knows how much. Most women would have looked at his parents and either shut down or run away. You can only deal with such people by digging in and standing your ground, and you are such a very unusual combination- so sensitive, so diplomatic, but so hard-headed! And your husband is stubborn too. He had to be, to survive in that environment."
At that point, I burst into involuntary laughter. Right before The Man went overseas, we had just gotten married, and I had a blowout with his mom, over something that she had either mis-heard or completely imagined (what time we were going to be there for Thanksgiving). She ruined the holiday for everyone by acting like a lunatic. It ended with her telling my husband that his family was more important than his wife. She demanded an apology from me, and I was pushed to my limit. I refused to give her one. I said I would apologize for the misunderstanding, and she refused to acknowledge that there was one. So I didn't talk to his family the whole time The Man was overseas, and even beyond....almost a year.
This is getting unbearably long. Let me get to the weirdest part.
I asked about children again. Specifically, when? He shook his head.
"Soon. Not tomorrow....that would be miserable for you. You are not in the right phase to have children, not yet. It is not about time, it is about timing. I do not see it happening until after you move. You're in a stagnant environment, it is becoming toxic. It is not time for a baby yet. You have had these thoughts yourself. You will not have a baby until you leave this environment.
Then he said something that really pissed me off. "Once you are in the right place, in the right environment, there should be no problem having your son. I don't think you'll need to try for two years to have your son." He snapped his fingers. "Like that."
At this point, I kind of erupted out, "We have been trying for five years, and nothing has worked!"
He shook his head. "You are both so healthy. There's nothing biologically wrong with either of you. I don't see falling pregnant even being an issue for you. But it isn't going to happen until you move."
He paused. "Have you seen specialists?" I nodded. "Do they have any ideas, solutions? Extra fertilizer so something? "
Well....no, they don't.
I shook my head, and he smiled indulgently. "The reason they can't figure out what is wrong, is because there is nothing they can do about it. It is something you need to do. Remember, timing, not time. Stop worrying about your age. You are so young! It's more about where you are mentally than what the calendar says. And until you move, you will not be in the right place to have children."
There was a lot more about career, and about my family. He closed with, "Make sure you drink more water. You've been bad about that lately."
Well.....it's true! I have.
I am not sure how I feel. Skeptical? Oh yes, that's there. But the agonizing "What if''s" seem to have been quelled, at least for now.
I told The Man about it, and he thinks that I am nuts, but is glad that I feel better.
What do you guys think?
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Notes from the Great Beyond
Wow.
I have to say, my experience with a psychic was, in fact, pretty mindblowing.
He started talking as soon as I came into the room, and surprisingly, children didn't come up immediately. I gave him my birthdate, and he looked at it and kind of made an exclamation of surprise. (I checked with my sis later, and he didn't do this with her.)
"You are a force to be reckoned with," he said. "You go your own way, and you are a leader. You are a fierce and loyal friend, and also a formidable enemy. I would not want you to be angry with me! You are incredibly independent. The best way to keep you is to give you freedom and trust that you will come back. Your talents are diverse, so much so that you get distracted and lose focus. You are incredibly resourceful, and incredibly intimidating to people who do not know you well. You are an emotional person who doesn't like to show it. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you wish you didn't. You can be strong for everyone except yourself."
So far, pretty accurate. It is hard to judge yourself, though. When I repeated it to my friends, though, they said things like, "Holy Crap. Who is this man, and how much did it cost? When can I see him?!!!"
I showed him a picture of my husband...and that's when I started to freak out.
"Your husband is in pain," he said. "Too much for someone his age. Has he had a back injury? He's let it go for a long time, and he needs to get it taken care of."
When The Man was stationed overseas, he was in the back seat of a Humvee. Driving through the desert, they took a bump too fast, and The Man hit his head so hard on the rollbar that he was knocked out. He woke up on a backboard at the medical tent. He's had back problems ever since, and no amount of nagging will help.
I just said, "Yes, he has back problems."
"Why are you so afraid to be a bitch?!" he asked. "You are in charge of this relationship. He will follow you." He paused and said, "2008 is going to be a huge year for you. If you are not considering moving yet, you should."
Another pause. "You need to be in a big city. You are stagnant where you are, and you need to have inspiration to live your life to the fullest."
Another pause. I think I said, "Okay."
"Make sure your husband knows that he is making this decision too. He is inclined to blame joint decisions on you, and it is because you are his motivation. He is less decisive than you are.Once you decide, you will jump. And he will have to jump after you, but it takes him longer to make up his mind." Another pause. "Sometimes, it is like you are a tugboat and he is an ocean liner. Once he gets going, it goes smoothly, but he needs that push, and the push comes from you. You provide the power and the momentum."
At this point, my mouth was dry. Because that is a frighteningly accurrate depiction of our relationship.
"Sometimes, you resent this relationship. Because you wonder how long you will have to pull, and you think that maybe doing this for your whole life might be too much. You are a very independant, magnetic person, and you worry that your passion for each other isn't what it should be. I see the two of you building...you have some block in your relationship that is causing you to pull back.By your mid-thirties, you will stop holding yourself back to much, and you will have the passion that you want."
He paused again. In between, I said a lot of "Okay's" and "Uh-huh's".
"Wow your husband has a crazy family!" Truer words were never spoken. "He has gone through some trauma, abusive parenting. He deals with depression, and it is hard for you to deal with. Sometimes you can pull him out of it, and sometimes you can't eventually, you will win out."
"Alcoholism runs in his family. It's in his blood. Someone close to him...a sibling? Has a problem with drinking." (His sister has had three DUI's and been to rehab.) He is prone to this too. Keep an eye on it. He could use this to mask what is wrong. He hates his job."
He continued,"Why do you worry so much about money?" (Hello! IVF! I thought, but did not say.) "Money is the curse of civilization. You should be comfortable about what you have. You and your husband are both very resourceful, very employable. I don't see you having money problems, particularly after the next year."
Then he said, "You are going to be a mother. At least once. Before the age of 35. You may have more than one."
OK guys, I am sorry, it's To Be Continued! I will post more tonight.
I am completely blown away.
I have to say, my experience with a psychic was, in fact, pretty mindblowing.
He started talking as soon as I came into the room, and surprisingly, children didn't come up immediately. I gave him my birthdate, and he looked at it and kind of made an exclamation of surprise. (I checked with my sis later, and he didn't do this with her.)
"You are a force to be reckoned with," he said. "You go your own way, and you are a leader. You are a fierce and loyal friend, and also a formidable enemy. I would not want you to be angry with me! You are incredibly independent. The best way to keep you is to give you freedom and trust that you will come back. Your talents are diverse, so much so that you get distracted and lose focus. You are incredibly resourceful, and incredibly intimidating to people who do not know you well. You are an emotional person who doesn't like to show it. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you wish you didn't. You can be strong for everyone except yourself."
So far, pretty accurate. It is hard to judge yourself, though. When I repeated it to my friends, though, they said things like, "Holy Crap. Who is this man, and how much did it cost? When can I see him?!!!"
I showed him a picture of my husband...and that's when I started to freak out.
"Your husband is in pain," he said. "Too much for someone his age. Has he had a back injury? He's let it go for a long time, and he needs to get it taken care of."
When The Man was stationed overseas, he was in the back seat of a Humvee. Driving through the desert, they took a bump too fast, and The Man hit his head so hard on the rollbar that he was knocked out. He woke up on a backboard at the medical tent. He's had back problems ever since, and no amount of nagging will help.
I just said, "Yes, he has back problems."
"Why are you so afraid to be a bitch?!" he asked. "You are in charge of this relationship. He will follow you." He paused and said, "2008 is going to be a huge year for you. If you are not considering moving yet, you should."
Another pause. "You need to be in a big city. You are stagnant where you are, and you need to have inspiration to live your life to the fullest."
Another pause. I think I said, "Okay."
"Make sure your husband knows that he is making this decision too. He is inclined to blame joint decisions on you, and it is because you are his motivation. He is less decisive than you are.Once you decide, you will jump. And he will have to jump after you, but it takes him longer to make up his mind." Another pause. "Sometimes, it is like you are a tugboat and he is an ocean liner. Once he gets going, it goes smoothly, but he needs that push, and the push comes from you. You provide the power and the momentum."
At this point, my mouth was dry. Because that is a frighteningly accurrate depiction of our relationship.
"Sometimes, you resent this relationship. Because you wonder how long you will have to pull, and you think that maybe doing this for your whole life might be too much. You are a very independant, magnetic person, and you worry that your passion for each other isn't what it should be. I see the two of you building...you have some block in your relationship that is causing you to pull back.By your mid-thirties, you will stop holding yourself back to much, and you will have the passion that you want."
He paused again. In between, I said a lot of "Okay's" and "Uh-huh's".
"Wow your husband has a crazy family!" Truer words were never spoken. "He has gone through some trauma, abusive parenting. He deals with depression, and it is hard for you to deal with. Sometimes you can pull him out of it, and sometimes you can't eventually, you will win out."
"Alcoholism runs in his family. It's in his blood. Someone close to him...a sibling? Has a problem with drinking." (His sister has had three DUI's and been to rehab.) He is prone to this too. Keep an eye on it. He could use this to mask what is wrong. He hates his job."
He continued,"Why do you worry so much about money?" (Hello! IVF! I thought, but did not say.) "Money is the curse of civilization. You should be comfortable about what you have. You and your husband are both very resourceful, very employable. I don't see you having money problems, particularly after the next year."
Then he said, "You are going to be a mother. At least once. Before the age of 35. You may have more than one."
OK guys, I am sorry, it's To Be Continued! I will post more tonight.
I am completely blown away.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
I'm off to see the wizard...
And to enjoy the streets of SF. Here's wishing you guys a great weekend! I'll give an update as soon as I get back.
P.S. Saw my parents the other night...no word on financing. My appointment with the RE is on the 9th. I'm getting a little anxious.
P.P.S. AF due yesterday or today, but hasn't shown up. Huh.
P.S. Saw my parents the other night...no word on financing. My appointment with the RE is on the 9th. I'm getting a little anxious.
P.P.S. AF due yesterday or today, but hasn't shown up. Huh.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Your aura is pulsating dear...
I made an appointment with a psychic. Saturday, 7PM.
This is the e-mail I wrote to my sister- she has seen the guy before, so she would be in a position to tell me what's what.
_________
Her reply was that he is somewhere between A and B, which is good enough for me.
I am feeling hopeful, yet, also extremely skeptical. I am supposed to write down questions to ask, but my sister said he answered everything she wanted to know as soon as she walked in, she never even got a chance to ask.
I am supposed to bring a list of questions, a blank tape, pictures (?!) and of course, cold hard cash.
So. If you were going to a psychic...what would you ask?
This is the e-mail I wrote to my sister- she has seen the guy before, so she would be in a position to tell me what's what.
_________
Um, how specific is this guy? I am assuming that he’s a lot more accurate than, say, a Magic 8-ball.
So if I ask, “Am I ever going to be someone’s biological parent?” And the answer is an affirmative, would it be
- Spookily accurate. “Yes, you will have two boys and three girls, but you will have to use IVF and they will be quintuplets. Oh, and they will all be like your dad and your Mother-In Law, and you will end up in a mental institution.”
- Fairly accurate: “You will have kids by the time you are 40. I think I see three.”
- Reply hazy: Um, yeah. Definitely!
- Total crap: “You already have spiritual children, I can see them waiting for you in the beyond!”
Ok, I just wrote C. and D. to round it out. Don’t hate on me.
_________________________________
Her reply was that he is somewhere between A and B, which is good enough for me.
I am feeling hopeful, yet, also extremely skeptical. I am supposed to write down questions to ask, but my sister said he answered everything she wanted to know as soon as she walked in, she never even got a chance to ask.
I am supposed to bring a list of questions, a blank tape, pictures (?!) and of course, cold hard cash.
So. If you were going to a psychic...what would you ask?
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Crankypants
There. I said it.
I have been in an evil mood for the last couple of days, which I am attributing to some kind of hormonal hangover after the last six months of non-stop meds.
I have also been a little blue....a very pale shade of that color. Maybe a better term is funk. I am in a FUNK. How I am to get out of it, I am really not sure, but it is official.
The first major sign is not wanting to put up the Halloween decorations. They are usually up at the crack of October 1st, because Halloween is my favorite holiday. So far, I have one lonely bat sticking out of my planter box. Skeletons hanging from the trees? Negative. Graveyard set up, complete with fog and black lights? Negative. Spider webs set up on the front porch? Negative.
Our usual Halloween party hookup isn't happening this year (they're 6-7 months pregnant, of course) so it's looking like a quiet night. A big part of me wants to not even buy candy and turn off the porch light, like some kind of Halloween grinch.
What with us not celebrating Thanksgiving with the fam, it's looking like The Man and I are going to make the holidays a wash this year. Maybe we'll have our acts together by Christmas.
I have been spending most of my time knitting obsessively and uploading stuff to Ravelry, because my crankiness makes me wary of human contact. By the way, if you are a knitter with a Ravelry account, stop by and see me! There is even a group for knitters dealing with IF, called the Infertile Myrtles.
The one bright spot in my week was yesterday. Maybe you had to be there, but oh, man, it was hilarious.
S. and I went to Jo-Ann's, because we wanted more yarn. We stopped at an innocent display of plush turkeys.
S: "Look! They're so cuuuute!"
Me: *rolls eyes*
S: "You seriously need to snap out of it. See....oh, they're handpuppets!"
She seized a turkey and thrust her hand into it.
Turkey: GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE!!!!
S. shrieked at the top of her lungs and jumped into the air like she had been electrocuted, bowling the turkey down the aisle. She had whipped her hand out so fast, she actually yanked out the noisemaker, which skittered down the aisle in the opposite direction, still gobbling.
I was rooted to the spot, doubled over, and laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe.
I know, I am evil, but the look on her face was so.damn.funny that it look me at least 10 minutes to collect myself.
I have been in an evil mood for the last couple of days, which I am attributing to some kind of hormonal hangover after the last six months of non-stop meds.
I have also been a little blue....a very pale shade of that color. Maybe a better term is funk. I am in a FUNK. How I am to get out of it, I am really not sure, but it is official.
The first major sign is not wanting to put up the Halloween decorations. They are usually up at the crack of October 1st, because Halloween is my favorite holiday. So far, I have one lonely bat sticking out of my planter box. Skeletons hanging from the trees? Negative. Graveyard set up, complete with fog and black lights? Negative. Spider webs set up on the front porch? Negative.
Our usual Halloween party hookup isn't happening this year (they're 6-7 months pregnant, of course) so it's looking like a quiet night. A big part of me wants to not even buy candy and turn off the porch light, like some kind of Halloween grinch.
What with us not celebrating Thanksgiving with the fam, it's looking like The Man and I are going to make the holidays a wash this year. Maybe we'll have our acts together by Christmas.
I have been spending most of my time knitting obsessively and uploading stuff to Ravelry, because my crankiness makes me wary of human contact. By the way, if you are a knitter with a Ravelry account, stop by and see me! There is even a group for knitters dealing with IF, called the Infertile Myrtles.
The one bright spot in my week was yesterday. Maybe you had to be there, but oh, man, it was hilarious.
S. and I went to Jo-Ann's, because we wanted more yarn. We stopped at an innocent display of plush turkeys.
S: "Look! They're so cuuuute!"
Me: *rolls eyes*
S: "You seriously need to snap out of it. See....oh, they're handpuppets!"
She seized a turkey and thrust her hand into it.
Turkey: GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE!!!!
S. shrieked at the top of her lungs and jumped into the air like she had been electrocuted, bowling the turkey down the aisle. She had whipped her hand out so fast, she actually yanked out the noisemaker, which skittered down the aisle in the opposite direction, still gobbling.
I was rooted to the spot, doubled over, and laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe.
I know, I am evil, but the look on her face was so.damn.funny that it look me at least 10 minutes to collect myself.
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