Friday, April 2, 2010
Loyal readers, I salute you. You still have me on your blogroll, or as a part of my facebook blog feed, and I haven't a clue why.
The last time I posted was back in January, and now, 2 months later I've finally got the push I needed thanks to a random reader.
It's not that I have forgotten about this blog, as I surely haven't. Periodically, I look at the bookmark on my screen for "Baby Blog." Sometimes, I even click on it. And yet, posting never happens for a variety of reasons.
Excuse #1- I'm lazy.
Yes, it's true that I go in ebbs and flows when it comes to blogging. Am I really lazy? Well, ask me when I'm still in bed at noon on a saturday. Better yet, wait until 3.
Excuse #2- I manage an absurd amount of blogs.
Every one of the holds a dear spot in my heart, but some go months without updating. I'm passionate about each one, and at times I feel I shouldn't post unless the mood strikes me to be inspired.
Excuse #3- Who really cares about this blog anyway?
I can't imagine why there would be people out there who truly cared about the state of my Uterus. HSG, BFN, BFP, HPT, OPK, WTF? Acronyms up the ying yang, all about whether I have a fetus going on in there. Bun in the oven anyone? (And boy, do I have a story to tell you! Stay tuned!)
Excuse #4- No news is not good news?
As you will see in the bottom part of this post, I've discovered that having something to blog about is either because there is something awesome going on, or because the monotony and devestation of nothing happening has eaten away a part of my soul... Or maybe it's the Clomid eating away my uterus lining? Either way, it's not good.
Excuse #5- But, it would be SUCH A LONG POST!
Who really want me to re-cap an entire two months? I mean, really? I can do my best to be witty, and throw in some unnecessary anecdotes and punctuation flair... but seriously? If you've made it this far, congrats!
So, there you have it. 5 incredibly valid and awesome reasons I've not posted.
Oh, who am I kidding? They all suck, lets be honest with ourselves. I suppose, while I have my husband snoring along side me, I can tap tap tap away a wonderful update of my world. He can sleep through anything and can fall asleep in .7038973 seconds, so, I'm sure he won't mind.
Let's see... where were we back in January? Ah yes. Month #1 with progesterone. To recap, my sweet reproductive system only works every other month. My normal months are 39-41 days. My abnormal? Well, let's just say it's in the 70s. So, impatience and general irked POV sent me shuffling off to my local OB/GYN, who we found to be "wonderfully competent" (COUGH COUGH) to get some drugs to kick my womb in the ass a bit. 5 days after finishing my last dose, the waterfall was once again in motion.
We then tried our 5th cycle of Clomid. We timed it well and really had the best shot out of all the months during this last round. However, day 36 rolled around with the waterfall, despite getting up in the 90 point range on my pregnancy predictor. LAME. (At least it wasn't day fucking 39.)
Thus started our non-clomid round. We decided that since I don't seem to Ovulate during the "every other month" cycles (read: this one) we weren't going to waste our last dose of Clomid on it. So, thus began this cycle (our 8th cycle trying, keep in mind that most cycles are 40-70 days long.) We reached a milestone this last month as we have reached 1 year (1 year and 1 month at this post) of TTC. I'm now taking my second month of progesterone to finally put this cycle out of it's misery. This upcoming month is a "ovulation" month.
This journey has been very very stressful for me, the highs, the lows... the needing to rely on a sense of failure from the beginning just to emotionally survive at times. Finding the humor in timed "get-togethers" and the constant amusement I get when I analyze closely yet ANOTHER OPK. (Honey, is this darker or lighter than yesterday?) I have a "special" glass under our sink dedicated to "testing" and I frequently worry that my husband might get it in his head to use it for, I dunno, drinking out of. EW. Here's hoping that walking into the kitchen for a drink of water wins out.
I frequent some infertility forums in my internet world, and if I hear "Baby Dust" again, I might just rip the fallopian tubes out myself. (Theirs, not mine.) Baby Dust? Is this a collection of particulates on your womb, from misuse or lack of dusting? Is this like Pixie Dust, was that in Peter Pan, or am I making this up? I don't even like dust! Who really does? It gives me migraines and makes me sneeze. Why the hell would anyone wish baby dust on anyone. Baby dust also gives me a horrid vision of a ground up and dehumidified fetus. *Shiver* I find that this is a horrible trend. Linking something adorable with collections of pollen and skin fragments. Think about it, Pixie Dust, Baby Dust, Dust Bunnies, Dust Buster... well, maybe that last one is going a bit far, but you get the right idea. I think that we should revolt and start linking dust with more appropriate nouns. DustYoGabbaGabba! Dust Transformers (in 3d, horrifying!) Dust... Power Ranger! Yeah! That's what we should do! They would go out there and avenge the dust around the world.. like captain planet, but instead of saving the world, they save us from having to break out another wet wipe or swiffer dry pad for the rest of our lives. SAVE ME DUST POWER RANGER!
But I digress... Jon has been such a trooper when it comes to this journey. He "yes dear"s me when needed and doesn't complain when timing becomes more and more what rules our world. I think he even turns the other way when I spend a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't know that day 5 past ovulation is just too soon to test, but dang it if I won't try anyway! (Dollar Tree Tests For the Win!)
In other news, I've started the ball rolling with adoption. I'm waiting to hear back from the state about when the classes will be that are required to adopt through the foster care system. We will then get everything ready for us to be accepted as adoptive parents, and wait for the right child to come along. The idea that we will have 3 irons in the fire is comforting. We are also going to be looking into IUI after then end of this next cycle if it is not successful. (+50 points for a new acronym!)
I promised you a story, and if you've made it this far, you deserve one.
So, the other day was a party for my grandfather-in-law's birthday. I get all gussied up (don't mind Julia, she just lost 30 pounds in the past 8 months or so...) and I'm looking good. I get in the car with my wonderful husband and drive over to the in-laws for dinner. Timing, is apparently a fickle bitch, as luck would have it, The GIL (Grandfather in law) and his wife were just pulling up. I'm approached by the GIL, expecting some quip about the nice weather or whatever when....
"So Julia," (Looks at my belly) "Any news, or is the baby factory closed?"
So, this hits me on several levels.
1. Are you calling me fat?
2. You are my GIL. I'm not going to presenting you with a "State of the Uterus Address."
3. OMGWTFSTFU- Who even asks that? My mother even knows not to ask.
4. BABY FACTORY? Am I a prized steed born and bred just to propagate?
5. I wished I had business cards with my blog on it just for this reason. "Do you care that much? Well, hell, go read about it then. Maybe then you will understand that it's not always as easy as it seems... back in the 1950's when you had your last kid."
I'd like to tell you that I came up with one of these comments like a jane on the spot that I'd like to be, but to be honest, I was SO FLABBERGASTED, I just couldn't even speak. I think I mumbled something asinine like "Haha, no, no news. haha." while I pondered whether I'd be held accountable if I accidentally pushed him down some stairs. (*required sidebar* No, of course I'd never do that. Sheesh, who do you think I am?) (Comment must be made to the overuse of commas and complete run on sentence. Go ahead. Call the grammar police.)
Do you all remember this lady? Apparently, everyone thinks your baby dancing should be public knowledge. Well, here it is GIL and crazy work lady! Read all about it. But, be warned... an infertile gal is not liable for her flying fists. I also am continuing to assert that if/when I get preggers, NO ONE WILL TOUCH MY BELLY WITHOUT ASKING. (Save my husband.) I WILL YELL AT ANYONE WHO DOES. LOUDLY. My husband would that this opportunity to say "Don't fuck with julia. She will win. And it will be ugly." (And yet, he still argues with me. How does this happen?)
And finally, a big thank you for those of you who have been there along the way. All my readers are still being read about, and I comment when I feel I have something astute or contributory to add. Hang with me! Hopefully this update made you giggle a couple of times. If it didn't... well, go watch this.