Note: I apologize in advance for the length. Glow has reintroduced a former feature, wherein a number of questions relating to babyloss, grief, blogging and such are individually answered by the contributors and the community. The below are my responses.
1 | How would you describe your presence on the internet? Does your online voice differ from your real life voice? If so, how? And why?
My presence? Less than it used to be. I don’t participate actively in the communities I used to frequent. I do post regularly in some places, and continue to blog, but it’s definitely a difference from when I was trying before or pregnant.
I think there is some difference in online voice. In some ways, I’m bolder – saying things I would be unlikely to say in person (in both good and bad ways – I tend to be quieter and more observant in real life than active). I also have the ability to edit online – both in terms of typing out a rant and deleting or toning down and in correcting.
I think it makes me more thoughtful overall. I’ve learned you need to choose words carefully to convey your meanings. Without inflection, tone, expression and gestures – which play an absurdly large role in my regular speech, as I tend to forget words and grasp for them while speaking – all you have is the black and white before you, which will necessarily be colored in by the reader and informed by their own understanding and experience. To make yourself understood as you wish to be, you must be as precise as possible. For me, that often means typing more, trying to clarify and leave little room for interpretation.
2 | Why did you begin blogging, or reading blogs? Was this before or after your experience of babyloss?
I began well before babyloss, specifically for ttc. Actually I started 2 blogs at the same time. One to be informal and general and one for ttc. I shut the original down after my first miscarriage. By that time, the ttc was the public one, given how much time I spent in baby-related forums and the grief of that miscarriage was so overwhelming that much of my life was spilling out into the ttc blog.
Mostly I wanted a place to talk about the big thing in my life that was happening that I couldn't talk about as openly elsewhere – the trying and the emotions that come with that. And it morphed into more than that. I’d been reading blogs about midwifery, homebirth, unmedicated birth, etc for awhile before then. I tend to stick with interesting and humorous blogs now, and some grief blogs.
3 | Do you write anonymously? Does anonymity - or would anonymity - change your expression of grief?
I write ‘semi-anonymously’ – my blog is public and linked to my screen name from the boards I used to frequent. There was never a question about who I was, if that makes sense. I have tried to use nicknames where possible, but I don’t think it would be terribly difficult to track back to me. I freely used my son’s name after our loss (I would probably not have before, but I needed to see it written and to write it).
Greater anonymity would change the way I write. As it is, knowing it can be tracked to me has eliminated too much detail about certain things from my blog – I do not wish to be confronted with an angry coworker over a vent, if you see what I mean.
Likewise, there are familial issues and other relationship issues I have not talked about on the blog precisely because someone might be reading and because the medium doesn’t allow for an exchange. I think it could be potentially damaging because I don’t know that I would be understood. While venting and exploring via writing would likely be quite helpful for me personally, I do not think it would serve a greater purpose. If I want to address the issues, it’s better done via dialogue, not monologue that could only serve to fuel defensiveness and divisiveness and airing of grievances in an unhelpful format.
I also think that knowing that people know who I am – even if it’s just as an internet presence – changes my expressions of grief. I feel a greater urge to keep the excesses to myself when possible or to let them out in what I perceive to be a safer or better understood forum. I know that people wish me well and happy and peaceful and I am loathe to disturb the notion that I am working towards achieving that. I also hate the idea of my blog being nothing but whinging and depression. I did that for awhile during the ectopic pregnancy dragging on and its aftermath and it didn’t make me feel better in the end.
4 | Do you have a responsibility in how you express yourself on the internet? To whom, and why?
Yes, I think so. I’m not always sure where that line is. Ultimately, the forum makes a difference. I have a greater responsibility to myself in my blog than to my readers, whether that means expressing something true to me that may be unpopular or taking a break for awhile or keeping something to myself. Because the blog is my space and my format. At the same time, it’s sort of like inviting people to my house. It may be my space, but I do have responsibility towards them (the readers) as well; a responsibility to answer questions, to be gracious to them, to allow for differences of opinion, to be forthright and not deliberately misleading, to acknowledge that it’s not solely a one-way enterprise. The simple fact is that by opening up the space, there naturally incurs some level of responsibility to the people who enter it. I think if one doesn’t want that, then perhaps a non-public blog or journal is the better choice, because then you only have responsibility to yourself.
In a different, and more interactive environment, like message boards, there is a greater equality, in my opinion. In those cases, I think I have a responsibility to be clear and precise when possible, to be thoughtful, to be polite and to show respect so long as it is earned. It’s like walking into a public or shared space. There should be due paid to that, and common politeness is necessary. I do feel that honesty is necessary, and I don’t offer a lot of insincerity. If I think someone needs to hear something that is unpleasant, I generally try to say it, but I try to do it kindly and while understanding that differing perspectives don’t mean anyone is necessarily wrong.
Which is not to say I’m always super sweet and kind – I get into snark, and I have little tolerance for what I perceive as stupidity or indulgent or deliberate obtuseness. And if someone crosses my line, I let go of the common politeness. You only get that until you prove that you do not deserve such consideration from me. I do try not to take out my own bad mood on other people.
I try to respect other blogs as being a guest in someone else’s space. I’m far more inclined to click away than I am to challenge someone on their blog-space.
And of course, I think everyone owes each other, in any format, at least a minimal effort towards good grammar, sentence structure and spelling. Acronyms are fine, as are incomplete sentences and the occasional misspelling/typo/excessive comma usage (what?). I obviously use them or do them all the time. In a message board or blog, where things are informal, you can carry a conversational tone and structure, but come on. It’s still a written format, and as such needs to be readable.
5 | Do authenticity and honesty matter to you, both as a reader and a writer? Or does unconditional support matter more? How do you think readers perceive your truth?
Mostly, authenticity and honesty matter more. Of course there are times I want unconditional support, or offer it, but largely, I prefer honesty. I often find insincerity off-putting. I don’t need babydust thrown at me (and btw, that ALWAYS makes me picture someone flinging semen around and ew), I don’t care for magnitude of posts over quality. I appreciate thoughts and prayers and hugs when I believe them sincere (and offer the same sincerely and only when I can be sincere about it), but I don’t want to hear that a chart looks great because you like me. I want to hear an honest opinion. I don’t think you can have a genuine relationship without that.
I think oftentimes, the internet becomes a strange place where people equate friendship and caring with sycophantic and meaningless displays of trite phrases. I think a balance between honesty and kindness is the truest way to developing real relationships with people.
As a reader, I find it authenticity and honesty vital. I think it’s easy to get invested in someone and to begin genuinely caring about their welfare, on the belief that these are real people experiencing real issues. If that is betrayed by deliberate dishonesty, I feel angry and violated. I enjoy fiction a great deal, but only when I choose knowingly to read it.
6 | Have you ever been in the crosshairs of a troll? How did you deal with it, and what did you learn from it?
Lol. Yes.
Back in the day I let it upset me a lot. I think that I generally try to be a good person and to behave appropriately online. Given that, I didn’t understand the attacks, and reacted precisely as they wanted me to do.
Now, I’m inclined to laugh it off or ignore it. People are not going to universally like me, and I can accept that. I am bothered when I don’t understand the source or when I feel an attack is come from being misunderstood. But I do have a hard time when I feel like I am at fault for something, because I want to try and fix it.
Fortunately, I have no issues with the blog, probably because comments are moderated. I don’t believe I’ve ever received really hurtful or inappropriate comments. There have been one or two that ruffled my feathers, but that’s not a big deal.
7 | How do you feel before going online - either to write on your own blog, or to absorb the writing of others? How do you feel when you shut down the computer and walk away?
It really depends on the mood. Sometimes, trepidatious – will I get out what I need to, will I make myself understood, will I offend someone? Sometimes angry or sad and needing a place to pour it out. When I read others, it’s almost always healing. If it’s not, I stop. I need the light and warmth from others, so that always makes me feel better.
8 | Do family/friends know you write/commune online? If so, have they told you how they feel about it? How do you respond to their opinions?
Yes they know. Whatever works. Some friends and family members have access to my blog. I pulled that down as soon as my parents joined Facebook, because my father and mother do NOT need details on the frequency of my sex life or anything like that. Mostly the reviews are positive.
The problem that has arisen is when someone interprets what they’ve read to be personal and to apply to them. In some cases, it may be accurate, and in others, they are reading things in. That creates drama and hurt feelings and I think it’s nearly impossible to be honest and to avoid that entirely. I have made a real effort not to do that, but it’s impossible, if one uses a blog as a means to vent or as a form of thought-organization, to say it’s entirely untrue. Latent things can come out, you know? It may be unconscious, but that doesn’t mean it’s likewise unfelt. But really, it can’t be proven and that makes the ensuing conversation defensive on both sides and unprofitable in general.
So I don’t give the blog address out anymore. I don’t preclude a relationship happening with someone via a community or even the blog, but I no longer do the reverse order thing.
9 | Have you ever met any other loss bloggers in real-life? How did it feel to share food and air and space, and how did it make you feel about your own storytelling and healing? If you haven't experienced this, would you want to, or not? Why?
No, I haven’t had the pleasure. I have had the pleasure of exchanging emails with several babylost mamas, and it has been enormously up-lifting and inspiring. I hope to continue that and form deeper bonds with some of these people, because we can connect on a level not many others understand.
If it were possible, I would love to meet others in person.
10 | How did you/will you know it's time to read fewer grief blogs, and write less of grief? How did you/will you redirect your energy, creativity, and persona online -- did you/will you go offline? Disappear and start again? Or transition in your current space, hoping to find a new voice? If you've done this, how did it feel?
It comes as it comes. My blog ceased being about trying to conceive when I lost the first pregnancy we conceived. It’s still the central topic, but grief is not to be ignored. I will write what I feel needs to be written (needs to be siphoned from my soul or needs to be heard, either way). I do not write as much about grief as I did before, because I do not carry grief the way I did before. I read what fills me, so I don’t read it if I’m not getting something from it. I think it’s a good thing, but I also think it is a little limiting, as I don’t always feel as open to sharing my bad times as I did when that was the norm for me. I guess I don’t trust people to understand the circular, spiral nature of grief and don’t want the out-of-normal to make people concerned or uncomfortable.
I have disappeared from some places, for a variety of reasons. Being a different person has changed what some places are to me, and what I can contribute to those places. I am not wholly comfortable in a room of pregnant women; I feel both wiser and more accepting and like a complete alien, bringing in a reminder of doom and gloom with me.
In some ways I do feel as if I have another online persona – even a newish nickname. I think she is more compassionate and more likely to listen than previous incarnations of me. More compelled to reach out to people and try to draw them out. Whether that will translate to a new persona, I don’t know. I considered it, but I can’t leave out the parts of my story that describe me, because it’s who I am. So I don’t know that there is a point in it.
So long as my blog feels like a safe space, I will continue here and it will continue to transform with me.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
For Gabriel, After Six Months
A breeze blows
Brushing the branches of the bush nearby.
On the breeze an echo,
a sigh, a gurgle of childish laughter.
Is that you, my son?
Do you see the leaves fluttering?
Can you hear me when I talk to you?
Are you there?
And I long for him, for that moment,
that breeze in the bushes,
the smell of oranges or jasmine floats out of place nearby,
the echo of giggles and laughter,
the calm and the peace, a presence near me,
just out of my reach, but real,
and my heart leaps and beats
and whispers Gabriel?
I want to know if it is him that I sense.
To know he is still there.
To know he is.
Sometimes I hear a whisper
'Mama, are you there?
Do you see me?
Do you see?'
A whisper carried on the wind,
as leaves rustle nearby.
Yes, my son, I see.
I see you.
I see you there.
And more quietly still,
Thank you, sweet boy.
Brushing the branches of the bush nearby.
On the breeze an echo,
a sigh, a gurgle of childish laughter.
Is that you, my son?
Do you see the leaves fluttering?
Can you hear me when I talk to you?
Are you there?
And I long for him, for that moment,
that breeze in the bushes,
the smell of oranges or jasmine floats out of place nearby,
the echo of giggles and laughter,
the calm and the peace, a presence near me,
just out of my reach, but real,
and my heart leaps and beats
and whispers Gabriel?
I want to know if it is him that I sense.
To know he is still there.
To know he is.
Sometimes I hear a whisper
'Mama, are you there?
Do you see me?
Do you see?'
A whisper carried on the wind,
as leaves rustle nearby.
Yes, my son, I see.
I see you.
I see you there.
And more quietly still,
Thank you, sweet boy.
Wise words
Courtesy of my husband, upon my pointing out that my stats in FF (fertilityfriend.com) are off because I had to remove all the pregnancy cycles from my stats sheet*
"Hey, you know, that's ok. We all make mistakes, and FF is not alone in that. But that's why we are friends, because we can still be ok, even when the other party makes a mistake. Of course, if you have to pay to be friends, then maybe it's not so much fertility friend as it is fertility prostitute."
*Leaving in the pregnancy cycles was throwing off my luteal phase averages by unacceptable amounts. Because they were pregnancy cycles and I had no period. So I finally threw them out of my stats analysis because it skewed too badly and annoyed me. Of course, that in turn screwed up the ovulation stats, as the pregnancy cycles were generally later ovulation days. But that's at least an average I can repair on my own.
"Hey, you know, that's ok. We all make mistakes, and FF is not alone in that. But that's why we are friends, because we can still be ok, even when the other party makes a mistake. Of course, if you have to pay to be friends, then maybe it's not so much fertility friend as it is fertility prostitute."
*Leaving in the pregnancy cycles was throwing off my luteal phase averages by unacceptable amounts. Because they were pregnancy cycles and I had no period. So I finally threw them out of my stats analysis because it skewed too badly and annoyed me. Of course, that in turn screwed up the ovulation stats, as the pregnancy cycles were generally later ovulation days. But that's at least an average I can repair on my own.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Safe and sound.
After a ludicrously long wait, Barnabas has been retrieved and is home, resting quietly.
We're going to give him a little food here in a bit per vet's orders (if he's hungry) and lots of love.
Can you tell I still feel a little guilty, even though I'm firm in my conviction it was the correct thing to do?
We're going to give him a little food here in a bit per vet's orders (if he's hungry) and lots of love.
Can you tell I still feel a little guilty, even though I'm firm in my conviction it was the correct thing to do?
Venti Mocha
Temp drop to just above coverline at 12/13 dpo
+
FR being glaringly negative
(Target brand has a faint line. Unfortunately, once upon a time, my tap water gave it a similar faint line, so I think it's just an evap. It doesn't look like the faint line from last month)
+
The depression I'm feeling
+
Cramps
_______________________________________________
Two Advil to fix the headache and the cramps and the biggest fucking hot, too-sweet caffeinated beverage I can find.
And once that's gone, you better believe I'm going to pound a Diet Dr. Pepper.
We'll just leave the disappointment, the sulking, the fuming, the fear, the anxiety, the exhaustion and bitterness alone now in hopes that once my period is over, it won't be such a big deal.
I guess soy isoflavins are up next. Joy.
To be honest, I'd hoped that the fact I bid exhorbitant amounts on a CBEFM and OPKs would be sufficient to force a positive. You know, the reverse of wearing white pants or buying pregnancy tests when your period is late. Oh well. Now I just have to hope that if I win the damn monitor I can get the sticks in time to use them.
ETA: The bitch of it all is that that was a nice chart, damn it.
ETA 2: Uh, thanks, universe. Here is my request: If you are going to screw with me and drop my temp and give me negative tests, then you have to take the nausea and sore boobs with you when you leave. FFS.
ETA 3: Apparently FF is not yet convinced, as it continues to award me 95+ pregnancy points. Can I sell these on EBay?
+
FR being glaringly negative
(Target brand has a faint line. Unfortunately, once upon a time, my tap water gave it a similar faint line, so I think it's just an evap. It doesn't look like the faint line from last month)
+
The depression I'm feeling
+
Cramps
_______________________________________________
Two Advil to fix the headache and the cramps and the biggest fucking hot, too-sweet caffeinated beverage I can find.
And once that's gone, you better believe I'm going to pound a Diet Dr. Pepper.
We'll just leave the disappointment, the sulking, the fuming, the fear, the anxiety, the exhaustion and bitterness alone now in hopes that once my period is over, it won't be such a big deal.
I guess soy isoflavins are up next. Joy.
To be honest, I'd hoped that the fact I bid exhorbitant amounts on a CBEFM and OPKs would be sufficient to force a positive. You know, the reverse of wearing white pants or buying pregnancy tests when your period is late. Oh well. Now I just have to hope that if I win the damn monitor I can get the sticks in time to use them.
ETA: The bitch of it all is that that was a nice chart, damn it.
ETA 2: Uh, thanks, universe. Here is my request: If you are going to screw with me and drop my temp and give me negative tests, then you have to take the nausea and sore boobs with you when you leave. FFS.
ETA 3: Apparently FF is not yet convinced, as it continues to award me 95+ pregnancy points. Can I sell these on EBay?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Oh, No! Poor Joe! He Has No . . .
hands. . .
Most people have no freaking clue what I'm talking about when I say that.
If you do know, you are awesome.
If you don't, it's from the movie 'Dave' - specifically the scene that takes place at the homeless shelter that Sigourney Weaver and Kevin Kline visit. The coordinator is on the floor with the kids, showing them standardized pictures of 'Joe' missing body parts and they all chant together 'Oh, no! Poor Joe. He has no. . .' and then the kids fill in the blanks, based on what is missing from the picture. In the movie, it's hands first, then eyes. Sigourney Weaver narrates about why they do this and Kevin Kline goes over to do a magic trick for a kid who is playing by himself.
Anyway, that runs through my head now and again.
And a bastardized version will be true by this time tomorrow - "Oh no, poor Barney. He has no balls."
That's right folks, it is time for the big snip. I'm a firm believer in spaying and neutering your pets, for their health and to control pet populations (even in the event of them being indoor only and they'd never get loose ever, because they might). It's the right thing to do.
I had no hesitation with Jonah or previous pets, but damned if I don't feel a teeny bit bad for my kitten right now. Although, given his growth spurt, kitten isn't quite accurate for more than age. He's a big kitty now, and soon to be a ball-less kitty. We're taking part in the Humane Society's free neuter and discount vaccination program. He'll be denied food and water tonight, shoved in a box tomorrow, left with strangers, drugged, have his bits removed, shoved back in a box and then go home, where he will continue to be denied food until the next morning.
Sniffle. Poor kitty.
I was about to say think of him and his balls tomorrow, but really, I can't type that with a straight face, so, er, no.
Just cross fingers he'll be ok, as I'm sure he will. And that they won't accidentally switch him with a cat who thinks furniture is for claw-sharpening. Barnabas has his faults, but he's a keeper overall.
Most people have no freaking clue what I'm talking about when I say that.
If you do know, you are awesome.
If you don't, it's from the movie 'Dave' - specifically the scene that takes place at the homeless shelter that Sigourney Weaver and Kevin Kline visit. The coordinator is on the floor with the kids, showing them standardized pictures of 'Joe' missing body parts and they all chant together 'Oh, no! Poor Joe. He has no. . .' and then the kids fill in the blanks, based on what is missing from the picture. In the movie, it's hands first, then eyes. Sigourney Weaver narrates about why they do this and Kevin Kline goes over to do a magic trick for a kid who is playing by himself.
Anyway, that runs through my head now and again.
And a bastardized version will be true by this time tomorrow - "Oh no, poor Barney. He has no balls."
That's right folks, it is time for the big snip. I'm a firm believer in spaying and neutering your pets, for their health and to control pet populations (even in the event of them being indoor only and they'd never get loose ever, because they might). It's the right thing to do.
I had no hesitation with Jonah or previous pets, but damned if I don't feel a teeny bit bad for my kitten right now. Although, given his growth spurt, kitten isn't quite accurate for more than age. He's a big kitty now, and soon to be a ball-less kitty. We're taking part in the Humane Society's free neuter and discount vaccination program. He'll be denied food and water tonight, shoved in a box tomorrow, left with strangers, drugged, have his bits removed, shoved back in a box and then go home, where he will continue to be denied food until the next morning.
Sniffle. Poor kitty.
I was about to say think of him and his balls tomorrow, but really, I can't type that with a straight face, so, er, no.
Just cross fingers he'll be ok, as I'm sure he will. And that they won't accidentally switch him with a cat who thinks furniture is for claw-sharpening. Barnabas has his faults, but he's a keeper overall.
Monday, February 22, 2010
A Fitting 500th Post
This will not be retrospective of the last almost 2 years.
Nor will it be a grand announcement (though it would have been nice).
No, friends. Instead, I have something else very special for my 500th post on this blog.
(and it's not even how I chose such a seemingly random name as Cotton Socks - though, dare to dream, maybe someday.)
This Very Special Edition of my blog is something else entirely. Something far, far more appropriate, which just happened last night. To be honest, I sort of did want to wait a day or two to post in hopes of being able to post a bfp, but then I decided it was too much pressure and that would naturally doom it to either a bfn or a hideously public miscarriage or something, and having been there done that, er no thanks.
Anyway, I searched for another topic and then this happened, and even as I lay there writhing on the floor (oh, yes, friends, there is writhing involved), I knew it was perfect. Nothing else would encapsulate me quite so well, and well, my humiliation should at least be humorous for someone else.
So without further ado - here is the story of My Almost-Broken Toe. The big one on the left foot, to be precise.
It began last night, about a quarter 'til 7. The Amazing Race was coming on soon, and I was vaguely hungry and more nauseated. DH was planning to give the dog a bath, but Jonah, smart boy that he is, cottoned on to the idea when the towels and shampoo appeared and his collar disappeared and was disinclined to participate, thanks.
I, deciding to be helpful instead of sitting on my lazy ass for once, thought of a brilliant plan.
'Self,' I said, 'Get up, pick up the dog and take him to DH. Then Jojo won't stink, DH will be happy and you can sit in the chair for the Race.'
It was, if I do say so myself, an excellent plan.
Truly.
The problem wasn't in planning so much as execution.
I was sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, fooling around on the laptop, cross-legged. I was wearing a pair of pajama pants (brown! soft! with cream colored detailing stitch! and sewn on patch pockets!) that are a little long, but who cares, because I wear them around the house, not to work.
(Can you see what's happened yet? No? Read on.)
Now, if you've read here for awhile, you may have noticed I am not the most graceful person in the world. In fact, I have all the grace of a stomping elephant, with the balance of . . . something with not great balance.
In plain English, I fall down a lot.
I fall down when I'm just standing still. I once did that in front of a group of colleagues. One moment, I'm standing there nodding, the next, I'm sprawled on the floor, laughing, because to me, it was funny. (they thought I was having some kind of fit or seizure.) And I'm sure you remember that time I was pregnant with Chickadee and I simply fell down in the shower and kicked a giant hole in my tub? And my ass was bruised like a map of the Agaean Sea? Yeah. Point made?
So, grace and me - we don't work together. And that was certainly in evidence last night.
Because while the plan was to get up and go get the dog, what happened is that when I tried to stand up, I somehow got my left foot tangled in my right pants leg (sitting cross-legged, remember)? And eventually only my big toe was hooked, but it was hooked good.
And rather than stand up, I sort of fell sideways, and in the middle of that, I managed to yank my right leg really hard (I think I was trying to avoid falling on the corner of the coffee table), and it pulled my toe really hard and it hit the ground somewhere and I was sprawled on the ground.
Jonah, being a thoughtful sort of dog (and me, keening and wailing because that shit hurt) comes over and licks my face solicitously, which is about when DH reappears. He sees me sobbing on the floor, sees the dog and assumes they are related. I disabuse him of that notion through a series of moans and head shaking.
He comes over and the swelling has already begun, as has the bruising and I can't move it at first. Now look. I've established already that I've done shit like this before, and my husband has certainly (patiently) told me time and time again that my toes are not actually broken. This time he says, "Damn, you may have broken it. And you're bleeding."
That brought back my power of speech as I screech, "BLEEDING?! WHAT THE HELL?" As best I can guess, I broke my nail during the fall. I'm not one to get faint at blood - I usually watch my blood draws - but already being queasy and in pain (it hurt BAD), I nearly threw up when I saw the blood and it's been bandaged since, so I'm not actually entirely sure what happened.
DH manipulates the toe and it is moving some, but not bending. He says he doesn't think it's broken, and that I just can't bend it due to swelling. He also points out that there is nothing we can do about it, but he supposes if I really want, we could go to the hospital, though they won't do anything either. I look at him horrified. I haven't showered yet, and I'm not wearing underwear.
(what? I hadn't showered! why waste clean underwear on a dirty body? I was going to shower after the Race, because I was planning to shave and do a deep conditioning. I would have done it earlier in the day, but I opted for a long nap instead. I wasn't going anywhere, anyway.)
He reiterates that he doesn't think the hospital is necessary, so to calm down. He goes to get some ice (which totally shatters my nerves, because he starts breaking it up with a freaking hammer), and the ice hurts too much. He can't get it where it needs to go without setting it on the toe, which isn't bearing weight well.
So, being the giant baby I am, I sniffle and moan some more.
And beg him to help me shower, because I don't want to put all my weight on it and I am terrified of falling in the shower. So he washed my hair for me and I slept with it wet, so it resembles a rat's nest today.
My poor toe (and the one next to it) are blue today, but they bend! So it's not dislocated or broken, but it still hurts like a MTHFR.
And that, friends, is a perfect celebration of 500 posts. Cheers!
Nor will it be a grand announcement (though it would have been nice).
No, friends. Instead, I have something else very special for my 500th post on this blog.
(and it's not even how I chose such a seemingly random name as Cotton Socks - though, dare to dream, maybe someday.)
This Very Special Edition of my blog is something else entirely. Something far, far more appropriate, which just happened last night. To be honest, I sort of did want to wait a day or two to post in hopes of being able to post a bfp, but then I decided it was too much pressure and that would naturally doom it to either a bfn or a hideously public miscarriage or something, and having been there done that, er no thanks.
Anyway, I searched for another topic and then this happened, and even as I lay there writhing on the floor (oh, yes, friends, there is writhing involved), I knew it was perfect. Nothing else would encapsulate me quite so well, and well, my humiliation should at least be humorous for someone else.
So without further ado - here is the story of My Almost-Broken Toe. The big one on the left foot, to be precise.
It began last night, about a quarter 'til 7. The Amazing Race was coming on soon, and I was vaguely hungry and more nauseated. DH was planning to give the dog a bath, but Jonah, smart boy that he is, cottoned on to the idea when the towels and shampoo appeared and his collar disappeared and was disinclined to participate, thanks.
I, deciding to be helpful instead of sitting on my lazy ass for once, thought of a brilliant plan.
'Self,' I said, 'Get up, pick up the dog and take him to DH. Then Jojo won't stink, DH will be happy and you can sit in the chair for the Race.'
It was, if I do say so myself, an excellent plan.
Truly.
The problem wasn't in planning so much as execution.
I was sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, fooling around on the laptop, cross-legged. I was wearing a pair of pajama pants (brown! soft! with cream colored detailing stitch! and sewn on patch pockets!) that are a little long, but who cares, because I wear them around the house, not to work.
(Can you see what's happened yet? No? Read on.)
Now, if you've read here for awhile, you may have noticed I am not the most graceful person in the world. In fact, I have all the grace of a stomping elephant, with the balance of . . . something with not great balance.
In plain English, I fall down a lot.
I fall down when I'm just standing still. I once did that in front of a group of colleagues. One moment, I'm standing there nodding, the next, I'm sprawled on the floor, laughing, because to me, it was funny. (they thought I was having some kind of fit or seizure.) And I'm sure you remember that time I was pregnant with Chickadee and I simply fell down in the shower and kicked a giant hole in my tub? And my ass was bruised like a map of the Agaean Sea? Yeah. Point made?
So, grace and me - we don't work together. And that was certainly in evidence last night.
Because while the plan was to get up and go get the dog, what happened is that when I tried to stand up, I somehow got my left foot tangled in my right pants leg (sitting cross-legged, remember)? And eventually only my big toe was hooked, but it was hooked good.
And rather than stand up, I sort of fell sideways, and in the middle of that, I managed to yank my right leg really hard (I think I was trying to avoid falling on the corner of the coffee table), and it pulled my toe really hard and it hit the ground somewhere and I was sprawled on the ground.
Jonah, being a thoughtful sort of dog (and me, keening and wailing because that shit hurt) comes over and licks my face solicitously, which is about when DH reappears. He sees me sobbing on the floor, sees the dog and assumes they are related. I disabuse him of that notion through a series of moans and head shaking.
He comes over and the swelling has already begun, as has the bruising and I can't move it at first. Now look. I've established already that I've done shit like this before, and my husband has certainly (patiently) told me time and time again that my toes are not actually broken. This time he says, "Damn, you may have broken it. And you're bleeding."
That brought back my power of speech as I screech, "BLEEDING?! WHAT THE HELL?" As best I can guess, I broke my nail during the fall. I'm not one to get faint at blood - I usually watch my blood draws - but already being queasy and in pain (it hurt BAD), I nearly threw up when I saw the blood and it's been bandaged since, so I'm not actually entirely sure what happened.
DH manipulates the toe and it is moving some, but not bending. He says he doesn't think it's broken, and that I just can't bend it due to swelling. He also points out that there is nothing we can do about it, but he supposes if I really want, we could go to the hospital, though they won't do anything either. I look at him horrified. I haven't showered yet, and I'm not wearing underwear.
(what? I hadn't showered! why waste clean underwear on a dirty body? I was going to shower after the Race, because I was planning to shave and do a deep conditioning. I would have done it earlier in the day, but I opted for a long nap instead. I wasn't going anywhere, anyway.)
He reiterates that he doesn't think the hospital is necessary, so to calm down. He goes to get some ice (which totally shatters my nerves, because he starts breaking it up with a freaking hammer), and the ice hurts too much. He can't get it where it needs to go without setting it on the toe, which isn't bearing weight well.
So, being the giant baby I am, I sniffle and moan some more.
And beg him to help me shower, because I don't want to put all my weight on it and I am terrified of falling in the shower. So he washed my hair for me and I slept with it wet, so it resembles a rat's nest today.
My poor toe (and the one next to it) are blue today, but they bend! So it's not dislocated or broken, but it still hurts like a MTHFR.
And that, friends, is a perfect celebration of 500 posts. Cheers!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Thanks, All.
First, apologies to anyone I led to believe that this would be a bfp post (it's not). I really have been trying to exercise self-restraint in light of the fiasco from last cycle. And today, Sunday, is only 9 or 10 dpo, depending on which method you use for interpretation. Even though the dip is nice, I wouldn't expect a positive yet. It takes a couple of days past implantation for there to be enough hcg to be detected and a little more time for it to be detectable in urine.
So, we'll have to wait. The only thing I'll say is that my opinion changes at least three times a day, and I hope I've not set myself up for disappointment.
Onwards:
Ok, wait, another confession. I had thought that this was timed to be my 500th post. Which is why I said last post it deserved it's own. I thought this would be a nice topic. But, um. A quick check of the actually posted posts (and not just the drafts) says that is actually not true. Today is 499.
Oops. I would have put it off another day but I've stretched it out too long as it is and then people would have thought I was playing coy, which would be rude and would probably set up a massive bfn disappointment.
Instead, in the penultimate to the 500th post, I wanted to note that I've received a couple of blog award over the last week or so.
Susan, of Once A Mom - Always A Mom, kindly gave me an award, which I saw and appreciated and am completely unable to reproduce here because I didn't do it immediately and cannot find the password to her blog. I am so terribly sorry, Susan, but still very honored.
Susan, also known as Tim'sWifey on thenest/bump, lost her sweet daughter Katie just a couple of weeks before I lost Gabriel, also just shy of viability. She has written openly and honestly on her blog about coping with her loss and also in a forum I have not had courage for - the bigger world of thebump. I find it so courageous to be able to return there and remain in the world of those trying to conceive and those already pregnant. It was something that I was entirely incapable of and now that I feel more in the headspace, something I find hard to do, as it is no longer accessible at work.
Thank you Susan for sharing with me. I am in awe of your resolution to find beauty and be cheerful in the face of such a loss. You have a sweetness which just pours from you, and it is a real blessing to others.
I also received an award from Diana of http://hormonal-imbalances.blogspot.com/. Diana wrote that she found my blog from Blair's blog when I lost Gabriel, and that she admired how I was able to post and get up and face it all.
Diana is (currently) a SAHM to her daughter, Bella, and gives a really honest look into the triumphs and troughs of staying at home. She tells stories in a great, funny way and cool giveaways now and again. (I will admit to having googled to try and figure out who the family mentioned in her recent posts was. That story was awesome)
Anyway. . .
I wanted to say thanks.
Thanks to Susan and Diana and thanks to you.
I often wonder why anyone reads this. I don't think I'm a particularly gifted writer, though I do try for a minimum of good spelling, grammar and ease/comprehension of reading.
But the subjects I've discussed . . . my vaginal secretions, the ridiculous things we say when we tire of sex marathons, the constant complaints about lots of things, and the frequent anger, sadness, despair and other negative emotions that poured out since Gabriel's birth. . . I wonder why anyone would read this.
And because I know my life, I know that I haven't been totally honest on here. I've hidden away a lot of sadness and a lot of anger since Gabe was born, because it was too personal to put into words. I know, after everything else, it's hard to imagine that there is something I'm not sharing, but it's true. There are days I simply haven't been able to bring myself to whinge about it again, and I guess I feel as I accuse others of feeling - that six months out is a long time, and possibly time to be over it. So I rarely talk about how I still cry and tear up, and how there are a lot of babies I can't be around.
I haven't talked much about how my relationships have been altered. The rule of thirds seems to have been accurate in my case. There were relationships irretrievably altered, and some that were altered but are mending. Some of them were my fault and some were not. I haven't talked about how much I have isolated myself. I never went out much before, I never did much with others, so it's only recently that I've really come to realize how insulated I've made myself and how little I am able to change it yet.
It's been a long time since I've posted about my sense of failure and my fear of failure in every pregnancy. I haven't talked much about how easily I've come to think of a future surrogate as our means to children. It's just something that seems so certain in the back of my mind, like asserting the sky is blue, that I don't need (yet) to talk about it. It just feels like we've got to keep trying on our own first.
Beyond that. Well, I often see how I am petty, and selfish, judgmental and arrogant. And I am in awe that more people don't likewise perceive me this way.
And I am in awe of all you for reading and continuing to read despite all of these things. I am in awe of your kindness and gentleness and support. I am in awe of your well-wishes and the genuine sincerity I feel behind them. I am in awe of your tolerance to allow me this space to explore what I need to, as I need to.
I have not said it enough, certainly not individually as I ought. So I hope you will take this almost-500th post to heart as a notice that I do appreciate everything you have given back to me through this blog. Your comments are all read, your emails are all read and appreciated (and I hope responded to!), your thoughts and prayers are almost palpable. I look forward to writing here, to sharing bits of my spirit with you.
And I humbled that you choose to read them. And moreso that anyone finds anything of value in them.
I thank you.
So, we'll have to wait. The only thing I'll say is that my opinion changes at least three times a day, and I hope I've not set myself up for disappointment.
Onwards:
Ok, wait, another confession. I had thought that this was timed to be my 500th post. Which is why I said last post it deserved it's own. I thought this would be a nice topic. But, um. A quick check of the actually posted posts (and not just the drafts) says that is actually not true. Today is 499.
Oops. I would have put it off another day but I've stretched it out too long as it is and then people would have thought I was playing coy, which would be rude and would probably set up a massive bfn disappointment.
Instead, in the penultimate to the 500th post, I wanted to note that I've received a couple of blog award over the last week or so.
Susan, of Once A Mom - Always A Mom, kindly gave me an award, which I saw and appreciated and am completely unable to reproduce here because I didn't do it immediately and cannot find the password to her blog. I am so terribly sorry, Susan, but still very honored.
Susan, also known as Tim'sWifey on thenest/bump, lost her sweet daughter Katie just a couple of weeks before I lost Gabriel, also just shy of viability. She has written openly and honestly on her blog about coping with her loss and also in a forum I have not had courage for - the bigger world of thebump. I find it so courageous to be able to return there and remain in the world of those trying to conceive and those already pregnant. It was something that I was entirely incapable of and now that I feel more in the headspace, something I find hard to do, as it is no longer accessible at work.
Thank you Susan for sharing with me. I am in awe of your resolution to find beauty and be cheerful in the face of such a loss. You have a sweetness which just pours from you, and it is a real blessing to others.
I also received an award from Diana of http://hormonal-imbalances.blogspot.com/. Diana wrote that she found my blog from Blair's blog when I lost Gabriel, and that she admired how I was able to post and get up and face it all.
Diana is (currently) a SAHM to her daughter, Bella, and gives a really honest look into the triumphs and troughs of staying at home. She tells stories in a great, funny way and cool giveaways now and again. (I will admit to having googled to try and figure out who the family mentioned in her recent posts was. That story was awesome)
Anyway. . .
I wanted to say thanks.
Thanks to Susan and Diana and thanks to you.
I often wonder why anyone reads this. I don't think I'm a particularly gifted writer, though I do try for a minimum of good spelling, grammar and ease/comprehension of reading.
But the subjects I've discussed . . . my vaginal secretions, the ridiculous things we say when we tire of sex marathons, the constant complaints about lots of things, and the frequent anger, sadness, despair and other negative emotions that poured out since Gabriel's birth. . . I wonder why anyone would read this.
And because I know my life, I know that I haven't been totally honest on here. I've hidden away a lot of sadness and a lot of anger since Gabe was born, because it was too personal to put into words. I know, after everything else, it's hard to imagine that there is something I'm not sharing, but it's true. There are days I simply haven't been able to bring myself to whinge about it again, and I guess I feel as I accuse others of feeling - that six months out is a long time, and possibly time to be over it. So I rarely talk about how I still cry and tear up, and how there are a lot of babies I can't be around.
I haven't talked much about how my relationships have been altered. The rule of thirds seems to have been accurate in my case. There were relationships irretrievably altered, and some that were altered but are mending. Some of them were my fault and some were not. I haven't talked about how much I have isolated myself. I never went out much before, I never did much with others, so it's only recently that I've really come to realize how insulated I've made myself and how little I am able to change it yet.
It's been a long time since I've posted about my sense of failure and my fear of failure in every pregnancy. I haven't talked much about how easily I've come to think of a future surrogate as our means to children. It's just something that seems so certain in the back of my mind, like asserting the sky is blue, that I don't need (yet) to talk about it. It just feels like we've got to keep trying on our own first.
Beyond that. Well, I often see how I am petty, and selfish, judgmental and arrogant. And I am in awe that more people don't likewise perceive me this way.
And I am in awe of all you for reading and continuing to read despite all of these things. I am in awe of your kindness and gentleness and support. I am in awe of your well-wishes and the genuine sincerity I feel behind them. I am in awe of your tolerance to allow me this space to explore what I need to, as I need to.
I have not said it enough, certainly not individually as I ought. So I hope you will take this almost-500th post to heart as a notice that I do appreciate everything you have given back to me through this blog. Your comments are all read, your emails are all read and appreciated (and I hope responded to!), your thoughts and prayers are almost palpable. I look forward to writing here, to sharing bits of my spirit with you.
And I humbled that you choose to read them. And moreso that anyone finds anything of value in them.
I thank you.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Hmmmm. Look at that. . .
Now that, my friends, is what I call interesting.
Intriguing, even.
More of a dip than a fall, I'd reckon.
But next up, something I've put off too long. Since it deserves it's own post though, it will get it's own post.
Intriguing, even.
More of a dip than a fall, I'd reckon.
But next up, something I've put off too long. Since it deserves it's own post though, it will get it's own post.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Pride Goeth Before the Fall
Or, before the falling temperatures anyway.
0.6 degree drop this morning. Which is pretty unusual for this point in my luteal phase. So I'll toss my hands up in despair and give up trying to interpret because, what the hell?
And who the hell knows?
My boobs are more sore than ever. The nausea is particularly bad today. The cm is very wet (but creamy) which could mean any multitude of things (this is not uncommon in pregnancy cycles and lasts for some time into pregnancy, and it's also not uncommon shortly before my period arrives), and I feel crampy (not heavily so, just now and again).
It could honestly go either way, there is no way to predict. So, I give in.
The truth that has been hiding in plain sight beats me over the head. Either I will be pregnant (and thus have a glorious chart complete with both the mythical ovulatory and implantation dips - and really, what are the odds?) or I won't be (in which case, it would seem my period will be showing up early).
So rather than brood about it - as a pregnancy test won't reveal anything and I can't fast-forward to the point at which I take my temperature tomorrow - I'm just throwing my hands up in a gesture of futility, shaking my head, shrugging my shoulders and chuckling. Because really? Nothing else to do.
Later on, I'll post about some other things - the lovely blog awards I've received and have yet to post about because I sort of suck, the post that has been brewing about Barnabas the Brave and possibly some swirling thoughts about loss and change I've been tossing around. For now, more damned expense reports.
0.6 degree drop this morning. Which is pretty unusual for this point in my luteal phase. So I'll toss my hands up in despair and give up trying to interpret because, what the hell?
And who the hell knows?
My boobs are more sore than ever. The nausea is particularly bad today. The cm is very wet (but creamy) which could mean any multitude of things (this is not uncommon in pregnancy cycles and lasts for some time into pregnancy, and it's also not uncommon shortly before my period arrives), and I feel crampy (not heavily so, just now and again).
It could honestly go either way, there is no way to predict. So, I give in.
The truth that has been hiding in plain sight beats me over the head. Either I will be pregnant (and thus have a glorious chart complete with both the mythical ovulatory and implantation dips - and really, what are the odds?) or I won't be (in which case, it would seem my period will be showing up early).
So rather than brood about it - as a pregnancy test won't reveal anything and I can't fast-forward to the point at which I take my temperature tomorrow - I'm just throwing my hands up in a gesture of futility, shaking my head, shrugging my shoulders and chuckling. Because really? Nothing else to do.
Later on, I'll post about some other things - the lovely blog awards I've received and have yet to post about because I sort of suck, the post that has been brewing about Barnabas the Brave and possibly some swirling thoughts about loss and change I've been tossing around. For now, more damned expense reports.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Well, internets/readers
You, the people, have spoken.
48% of you think ovulation happened on cd 25.
28% of you think ovulation happened on cd 26.
12% of you think ovulation happened on cd 27.
8 % of you think ovulation happened on cd 28.
And yes, I am acutely aware that doesn't equal 100%. Blame FF, not me.
Speaking of FF being all whacky and whatnot - As of yesterday, FAM settings now give me cd 26, as does Research setting. Before it was all the same on cd 25. No clue there, at all.
But since we are 6/7 days past ovulation, eyes are turning to the grand prize - testing and possibly pregnancy.
So, lo, a new poll has been set on my homepage at ff (found here) - and YOU can decide if you think this cycle has a chance or not. Knock yourselves out. As it is anonymous, there is no prize for guessing correctly (is there a correct guess with answers like 'Not Promising' and 'Possibly Promising'?). Sorry. Still, it's riotous fun for the whole family or something.
Just to help you along, I had some cramping yesterday, in the middle to left side of the lower abdomen. Not quite where I feel ovulation cramps, more center of that, but not in the middle and not general contracting cramps like I feel during menses. I was also nauseated, though today it doesn't seem to be such an issue (that could be Zoloft stuff. It could also be in my head. Wheeeee). I am very gassy. Embarrasingly so. I can't remember if that is a typical 2ww thing (I don't recall that from October and November, but I do from last craptacular cycle) or no. Boobs are off an on mildly achey, which is normal. I am completely wiped out and lose a lot of energy around 1-2 each day (could that be because I've been going to bed late? Surely not! That would interfere with obsessing! Down with logic! Off with its head!).
Have fun. (oh, special note. Should anyone stare as obsessively at my chart as I do - um, seek professional help - you may have noted a change in yesterday's temperature. That is because Dh takes me temperature and tells me what it is. In a sleep-induced haze, he told me 97.3, which was the same as the previous two mornings. In fact, when I tested the thermometer to see if it was working properly, it flashed up 97.1 from the memory. Hence, the change. You may also notice it flashing back and forth between ovulation on cd 25 and 26. I get bored and fuck with it. Sue me.)
In other news, I woke up feeling downright cheerful. The continuous feeds of lovely lovely druggies seems to have made my sleep a lot more restful. Thank goodness. Soon I start the full dose, so I suppose then I'll see how it's really reacting for me/with me. I feel more anxious and seem to get more worked up on the Zoloft than I did on Pristiq, and I hope that stops once there is uninterrupted dosing at the correct level.
Anything else? Um, not really. I'm still fucking tired of expense reports, but not much looking forward to tackling the List Of Projects my boss has been gleefully compiling. To be fair, it's the first time in a year we've actually been working in a harmony and completely on top of things to really tackle this stuff, but still. She gets a manic gleam in her eye when she thinks of yet another thing and I'm a little intimidated by how much is there.
But since my lunch is winding to a close, I suppose it's time to get on with it.
OH! That's something else. I've been making enormous salads to eat for lunch with wonderful things like tomatoes, handfuls of spinach or kale, mixed greens, shredded carrot, sprouts and suchlike to eat everyday and I love it love it love it. I can change it up (I usually include chicken or beef on top) a ton of ways and it's still soooo yummy. Aren't you happy to know that?
48% of you think ovulation happened on cd 25.
28% of you think ovulation happened on cd 26.
12% of you think ovulation happened on cd 27.
8 % of you think ovulation happened on cd 28.
And yes, I am acutely aware that doesn't equal 100%. Blame FF, not me.
Speaking of FF being all whacky and whatnot - As of yesterday, FAM settings now give me cd 26, as does Research setting. Before it was all the same on cd 25. No clue there, at all.
But since we are 6/7 days past ovulation, eyes are turning to the grand prize - testing and possibly pregnancy.
So, lo, a new poll has been set on my homepage at ff (found here) - and YOU can decide if you think this cycle has a chance or not. Knock yourselves out. As it is anonymous, there is no prize for guessing correctly (is there a correct guess with answers like 'Not Promising' and 'Possibly Promising'?). Sorry. Still, it's riotous fun for the whole family or something.
Just to help you along, I had some cramping yesterday, in the middle to left side of the lower abdomen. Not quite where I feel ovulation cramps, more center of that, but not in the middle and not general contracting cramps like I feel during menses. I was also nauseated, though today it doesn't seem to be such an issue (that could be Zoloft stuff. It could also be in my head. Wheeeee). I am very gassy. Embarrasingly so. I can't remember if that is a typical 2ww thing (I don't recall that from October and November, but I do from last craptacular cycle) or no. Boobs are off an on mildly achey, which is normal. I am completely wiped out and lose a lot of energy around 1-2 each day (could that be because I've been going to bed late? Surely not! That would interfere with obsessing! Down with logic! Off with its head!).
Have fun. (oh, special note. Should anyone stare as obsessively at my chart as I do - um, seek professional help - you may have noted a change in yesterday's temperature. That is because Dh takes me temperature and tells me what it is. In a sleep-induced haze, he told me 97.3, which was the same as the previous two mornings. In fact, when I tested the thermometer to see if it was working properly, it flashed up 97.1 from the memory. Hence, the change. You may also notice it flashing back and forth between ovulation on cd 25 and 26. I get bored and fuck with it. Sue me.)
In other news, I woke up feeling downright cheerful. The continuous feeds of lovely lovely druggies seems to have made my sleep a lot more restful. Thank goodness. Soon I start the full dose, so I suppose then I'll see how it's really reacting for me/with me. I feel more anxious and seem to get more worked up on the Zoloft than I did on Pristiq, and I hope that stops once there is uninterrupted dosing at the correct level.
Anything else? Um, not really. I'm still fucking tired of expense reports, but not much looking forward to tackling the List Of Projects my boss has been gleefully compiling. To be fair, it's the first time in a year we've actually been working in a harmony and completely on top of things to really tackle this stuff, but still. She gets a manic gleam in her eye when she thinks of yet another thing and I'm a little intimidated by how much is there.
But since my lunch is winding to a close, I suppose it's time to get on with it.
OH! That's something else. I've been making enormous salads to eat for lunch with wonderful things like tomatoes, handfuls of spinach or kale, mixed greens, shredded carrot, sprouts and suchlike to eat everyday and I love it love it love it. I can change it up (I usually include chicken or beef on top) a ton of ways and it's still soooo yummy. Aren't you happy to know that?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Mood swings
My mood isn't swinging through the trees like a monkey on crack, the way it was last week, but it is certainly not placidly chewing cud like a happy cow either.
I think I'm feeling bizarre and unrelated stretched metaphors today. Hmm.
It's the regular 2ww tango, the back and forth of 'am I' 'am I not?' with extra special twists 'coming up on six months, hard to believe I'm not pregnant already' 'can't believe we are going ahead. maybe we should take a break' 'this needs to happen already''I don't think I can do another cycle''what side effects are potential pregnancy and what are Zoloft'. . .
round and round we go, where we stop, nobody knows.
Sidenote: My coworkers and I were talking about how awesome recess was and we were split down the middle between people who had merry-go-rounds on their playground and those who didn't. We didn't. We mostly did monkey-bars and swings. I miss swings. I remember believing if I tried hard enough, I could in fact swing all the way around.
On top of that, budget cuts are looming at work and people are worried and there is a lot of running around and fussing. There isn't a lot that is known for certain, so there are a lot of rumors and trying to combat them and quell the panic gets tiresome. Also? I will be happy when this week is over. I'm damn tired of looking at expense reports.
I'm trying to stay distracted - I have a couple of new books, which helps. I'm also trying not to do things that wind me up. But it's all easier said than done.
I think it doesn't help that today was one in which the background sadness and loneliness reared up. I miss Gabriel. I miss the life that I thought I would have now. I wish I could picture how he would look at 2 months old and I can't really. I found out friends are having a boy and I cringed.
I'm just ready to be done with this. I dislike this feeling of stagnation, it's so pervasive and stifling.
I think I'm feeling bizarre and unrelated stretched metaphors today. Hmm.
It's the regular 2ww tango, the back and forth of 'am I' 'am I not?' with extra special twists 'coming up on six months, hard to believe I'm not pregnant already' 'can't believe we are going ahead. maybe we should take a break' 'this needs to happen already''I don't think I can do another cycle''what side effects are potential pregnancy and what are Zoloft'. . .
round and round we go, where we stop, nobody knows.
Sidenote: My coworkers and I were talking about how awesome recess was and we were split down the middle between people who had merry-go-rounds on their playground and those who didn't. We didn't. We mostly did monkey-bars and swings. I miss swings. I remember believing if I tried hard enough, I could in fact swing all the way around.
On top of that, budget cuts are looming at work and people are worried and there is a lot of running around and fussing. There isn't a lot that is known for certain, so there are a lot of rumors and trying to combat them and quell the panic gets tiresome. Also? I will be happy when this week is over. I'm damn tired of looking at expense reports.
I'm trying to stay distracted - I have a couple of new books, which helps. I'm also trying not to do things that wind me up. But it's all easier said than done.
I think it doesn't help that today was one in which the background sadness and loneliness reared up. I miss Gabriel. I miss the life that I thought I would have now. I wish I could picture how he would look at 2 months old and I can't really. I found out friends are having a boy and I cringed.
I'm just ready to be done with this. I dislike this feeling of stagnation, it's so pervasive and stifling.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE Nutella.
But it is NOT health food.
It is wonderful, delicious, amazing, orgasmic. I feel guilty buying Pralinutta instead (but it is half the price. Just sayin'), because it's just not quite as good.
But let's be honest here, Nutella. Trying to pretend that it's healthy because you can put it on fruit or whole wheat bread and get your kids to eat it . . . doesn't change the carb or fat content.
Nice try though. Really.
It is wonderful, delicious, amazing, orgasmic. I feel guilty buying Pralinutta instead (but it is half the price. Just sayin'), because it's just not quite as good.
But let's be honest here, Nutella. Trying to pretend that it's healthy because you can put it on fruit or whole wheat bread and get your kids to eat it . . . doesn't change the carb or fat content.
Nice try though. Really.
Do me a favor?
I'm not asking you to feed the addiction and anxiety, necessarily, but pop on over to my chart (if you're into that sort of thing) and vote on ovulation day.
I don't know that I agree with FF, but it is not moving, no matter what setting I put it on. It's because of that massive dip (which is legit - I was all kinds of bundled up that night, so it's not like it was freezing outside and I tossed off the covers and made love to the ceiling fan or anything).
So yeah. I guess I'm disappointed that my temp wasn't higher today, because it's been closer to 97.5 by this point in pregnancy cycles. Well, minus last cycle, but that was certainly colder than usual. If I pin my chart overlays at the coverline, then it's in line, but I'm absurdly disappointed by it. Even if I know it shouldn't matter, really, so long as it's staying up, but I sort of do. (let's not get started on 'pregnancy points' - I've already hidden them, never fear)
I don't know what it is, but I do seem to be feeling vaguely more anxious right now. I really hope the Zoloft helps this, because I don't like it so well. I really do need to pull out the meditation cd's again, no doubt.
I don't know that I agree with FF, but it is not moving, no matter what setting I put it on. It's because of that massive dip (which is legit - I was all kinds of bundled up that night, so it's not like it was freezing outside and I tossed off the covers and made love to the ceiling fan or anything).
So yeah. I guess I'm disappointed that my temp wasn't higher today, because it's been closer to 97.5 by this point in pregnancy cycles. Well, minus last cycle, but that was certainly colder than usual. If I pin my chart overlays at the coverline, then it's in line, but I'm absurdly disappointed by it. Even if I know it shouldn't matter, really, so long as it's staying up, but I sort of do. (let's not get started on 'pregnancy points' - I've already hidden them, never fear)
I don't know what it is, but I do seem to be feeling vaguely more anxious right now. I really hope the Zoloft helps this, because I don't like it so well. I really do need to pull out the meditation cd's again, no doubt.
Monday, February 15, 2010
I don't know very much.
If there is anything I've learned in my life, it's how little I really know.
I think I know a lot of things.
Back in the day, when I first came to college, I thought I knew a great deal, but I was very wrong. I knew what was Right and what was Wrong and it was all quite clear. As I went through college, I learned that I was wrong. That the beliefs I'd learned were not necessarily true. I learned to be a more tolerant person and to be less judgmental about the way other people choose to live their lives.
Not that it always stops me from being judgmental of course, because I can be a real bitch, but at least I try now. The arrogance of assuming I know what is best without regard to individuality and circumstances outside my understanding is gone, more often than not. Or at least, I try to correct it when I realize it's creeping in.
Since getting pregnant multiple times, I've learned the same thing again and again. I think I've learned to be more compassionate, but some days the extent of it is questionable. I certainly have learned it is ok to stand up for what I need and to speak my truth as a truth, recognizing that not everyone's truth is the same.
And I've learned again how very little I truly know. I don't know, not really, what the right thing is to say to someone who has just learned their baby has no heartbeat. I don't know how to comfort someone who is going through what could be considered a living nightmare of carrying a live child and a dead one. I can't really understand how it is to go full term and lose your child or to be knifed in the heart by hope in the NICU.
Life really is a humbling experience. I do know many things, but not all things. I do know far more about conception and pregnancy than your average person, and less than many. I know far more about potential losses than most would care to. And I know all the knowledge in the world means nothing when it butts up against real life being lived, because it only enables you to understand the mechanics of what is happening, but not the why of it. Not the way to prevent it.
Life is an amazing thing isn't it? So fragile, so persistent. Humanity seems wrapped up in an object that can't be seen, and yet it is difficult to refute the existence of a soul, at least in some fashion. Sometimes, when I ponder these things, I have a fleeting image of myself sitting on a cliff, wind whipping around me, hugging my knees as I watch a sun set or rise over a vastness. And I wonder if that glimpse is the key to understanding eternity.
I wish I could focus on that more than on the mundane. But alas, I cannot. Apart from the everyday drudgery of like - work, maintenance, bills - there are the secret stirrings which I can't turn away from. The battle of hope and disbelief playing out in front of me, and inside me. The reality of the perpetuation of life, meeting up with the reality of biology and all the time, I can't tear myself away.
I want to know, now. And I can't know now. I can't control. I can't will it to be. I can only watch and wait. Perhaps I'm becoming ever so slightly more comfortable in the waiting. But only perhaps.
I think I know a lot of things.
Back in the day, when I first came to college, I thought I knew a great deal, but I was very wrong. I knew what was Right and what was Wrong and it was all quite clear. As I went through college, I learned that I was wrong. That the beliefs I'd learned were not necessarily true. I learned to be a more tolerant person and to be less judgmental about the way other people choose to live their lives.
Not that it always stops me from being judgmental of course, because I can be a real bitch, but at least I try now. The arrogance of assuming I know what is best without regard to individuality and circumstances outside my understanding is gone, more often than not. Or at least, I try to correct it when I realize it's creeping in.
Since getting pregnant multiple times, I've learned the same thing again and again. I think I've learned to be more compassionate, but some days the extent of it is questionable. I certainly have learned it is ok to stand up for what I need and to speak my truth as a truth, recognizing that not everyone's truth is the same.
And I've learned again how very little I truly know. I don't know, not really, what the right thing is to say to someone who has just learned their baby has no heartbeat. I don't know how to comfort someone who is going through what could be considered a living nightmare of carrying a live child and a dead one. I can't really understand how it is to go full term and lose your child or to be knifed in the heart by hope in the NICU.
Life really is a humbling experience. I do know many things, but not all things. I do know far more about conception and pregnancy than your average person, and less than many. I know far more about potential losses than most would care to. And I know all the knowledge in the world means nothing when it butts up against real life being lived, because it only enables you to understand the mechanics of what is happening, but not the why of it. Not the way to prevent it.
Life is an amazing thing isn't it? So fragile, so persistent. Humanity seems wrapped up in an object that can't be seen, and yet it is difficult to refute the existence of a soul, at least in some fashion. Sometimes, when I ponder these things, I have a fleeting image of myself sitting on a cliff, wind whipping around me, hugging my knees as I watch a sun set or rise over a vastness. And I wonder if that glimpse is the key to understanding eternity.
I wish I could focus on that more than on the mundane. But alas, I cannot. Apart from the everyday drudgery of like - work, maintenance, bills - there are the secret stirrings which I can't turn away from. The battle of hope and disbelief playing out in front of me, and inside me. The reality of the perpetuation of life, meeting up with the reality of biology and all the time, I can't tear myself away.
I want to know, now. And I can't know now. I can't control. I can't will it to be. I can only watch and wait. Perhaps I'm becoming ever so slightly more comfortable in the waiting. But only perhaps.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Happy Valentine's Day!
I hope you get to spend it with people you love, if you are celebrating.
We held our 'celebration' last night, when we had our indoor/carpet picnic. A nice, nutty Swiss cheese, a wonderfully crumbly cheddar, a silky Kreme Kase, water crackers, summer and beef sausages, hummus with parsley and fresh tzatskiki, petit fours and chocolate torte, accompanied by a variety of mustards, all while we watched (you won't believe me, but at least we agreed on it) Three Men and a Little Lady.
V-Day is more an excuse to do something out of the ordinary than a mandatory holiday. We tell each other and try to show each other we love each other all the time, this is no different.
Still, it never hurts to have an excuse to break out the deck of naughty playing cards, right?
We held our 'celebration' last night, when we had our indoor/carpet picnic. A nice, nutty Swiss cheese, a wonderfully crumbly cheddar, a silky Kreme Kase, water crackers, summer and beef sausages, hummus with parsley and fresh tzatskiki, petit fours and chocolate torte, accompanied by a variety of mustards, all while we watched (you won't believe me, but at least we agreed on it) Three Men and a Little Lady.
V-Day is more an excuse to do something out of the ordinary than a mandatory holiday. We tell each other and try to show each other we love each other all the time, this is no different.
Still, it never hurts to have an excuse to break out the deck of naughty playing cards, right?
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Jackpot!
I finally, finally, FINALLY got a positive opk.
Oh you beautiful smiley face, I could just kiss ya.
They'd been pretty dark the last couple of days, but not positive (to my annoyance).
I am quite tired of this cycle, as I had hoped for an earlier ovulation and an October due date should pregnancy occur again (though why I focus on putting THAT particular cart before the horse, God only knows. Due dates only matter if one gets far enough along in pregnancy for viability. And the likelihood, in a million ways, for a million reasons, is that I will deliver early by induction or c-section anyway, so it doesn't much matter (though it's possible for a natural delivery - many women with incompetent cervices go into labor shortly after the stitches are removed around 37 weeks, precisely because the stitches were what was holding things in place and the cervix begins to open without the strength of the stitches there).
Still. I'm tired of sex. So I'm quite pleased to see an end on the horizon. It's likely to be nearly 2 full weeks late (go ovulation! go ovulation!) but honestly? The longer pregnancies were conceived on quite late ovulations, so what the hell. Maybe it's a good sign.
I'll happily take a couple of days off after tomorrow (assuming the temp goes up in the morning).
I just hope the marathon is enough. And the vitamins help. And all the rest of that shit.
ETA: Jackpot again! I just beat Mah Jongg for the first time on the new laptop. Oh yeah!
Also? Pralinutta duo. Like Nutella, only half the cost. Fab.
Oh you beautiful smiley face, I could just kiss ya.
They'd been pretty dark the last couple of days, but not positive (to my annoyance).
I am quite tired of this cycle, as I had hoped for an earlier ovulation and an October due date should pregnancy occur again (though why I focus on putting THAT particular cart before the horse, God only knows. Due dates only matter if one gets far enough along in pregnancy for viability. And the likelihood, in a million ways, for a million reasons, is that I will deliver early by induction or c-section anyway, so it doesn't much matter (though it's possible for a natural delivery - many women with incompetent cervices go into labor shortly after the stitches are removed around 37 weeks, precisely because the stitches were what was holding things in place and the cervix begins to open without the strength of the stitches there).
Still. I'm tired of sex. So I'm quite pleased to see an end on the horizon. It's likely to be nearly 2 full weeks late (go ovulation! go ovulation!) but honestly? The longer pregnancies were conceived on quite late ovulations, so what the hell. Maybe it's a good sign.
I'll happily take a couple of days off after tomorrow (assuming the temp goes up in the morning).
I just hope the marathon is enough. And the vitamins help. And all the rest of that shit.
ETA: Jackpot again! I just beat Mah Jongg for the first time on the new laptop. Oh yeah!
Also? Pralinutta duo. Like Nutella, only half the cost. Fab.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Note to Self:
Dear Self:
Please note that when one is feeling shaky and mood-swingy from the combination of stress of trying to conceive, lack of bodily cooperation, and coming off anti-depressants, one might question the wisdom in deciding now is the best time to read up on the various types of cerclages performed.
One might further note that while pursuing medical information rather than, say, Yahoo! Q&A on the subject is generally a good idea, reading about the formal diagnoses and procedures and risks of cerclages is maybe not a good idea.
Further, if one were to disregard all the above and stupidly read up on it anyway, then one probably deserves what one gets, even if that is a nauseated sick feeling and the shakes when contemplating the procedure.
You have only yourself to blame. Now is an excellent time to pull the list of questions for Dr. B back out and start adding to it.
Please note that when one is feeling shaky and mood-swingy from the combination of stress of trying to conceive, lack of bodily cooperation, and coming off anti-depressants, one might question the wisdom in deciding now is the best time to read up on the various types of cerclages performed.
One might further note that while pursuing medical information rather than, say, Yahoo! Q&A on the subject is generally a good idea, reading about the formal diagnoses and procedures and risks of cerclages is maybe not a good idea.
Further, if one were to disregard all the above and stupidly read up on it anyway, then one probably deserves what one gets, even if that is a nauseated sick feeling and the shakes when contemplating the procedure.
You have only yourself to blame. Now is an excellent time to pull the list of questions for Dr. B back out and start adding to it.
Stupid Body
I won't go into details, only express my extreme disappointment in this enormous bundle of flesh that surrounds me.
We're not feeling very friendly towards each other so much right now.
I realize that as one being, it seems odd, perhaps even impossible, to be at odds with yourself, but believe me. It's possible.
Not a fan, physicality. Stop fucking around with me, because I do NOT find this at all amusing or entertaining.
Also, now into November. Sigh.
Is it wrong to say that I'm tired of having sex? Because I am. It's nothing to do with DH and everything to do with being resentful of being in this situation to begin with. It gets more and more difficult to push away the thoughts that I should still be recovering, snuggling at home with Gabe while still on leave, not trying to work up enthusiasm to have sex yet again while we desperately work on perfect timing and my body just doesn't work the way it is supposed to.
I am tired. I am tired of the whole mess. Some bad news at work casts some doubt on the wisdom of proceeding with this, and there is always the looming thought that losing weight can only be to my benefit in a future pregnancy. In short, logically, there is every good reason to take a break. I'm tired, I'm not in physically optimal condition, our finances are being overhauled and the potential for nasty things like forced vacations, limited sick/vacation roll-over for next fiscal year, and unpaid furloughs now looming. The smart thing to do, it would seem, would be just let things be for a couple of months.
But that goes so totally against the compulsion I feel that I simply can't do it. So I feel growly and gruesome and sometimes just plain angry at the place I find myself. Logic be damned, I want my living child and I will feel incomplete until I hold him or her in my arms and take them home. Not that that will make everything all better, but walking around with a gaping piece of me missing (the one labelled 'mother') hurts. I'm more tired of that pain than I am the rest of the mess.
(by the by, if I seem more mood swingy than normal, I don't think it's unfair to attribute that to the anti-depressant weaning schedule that is fucking around with my body as well).
We're not feeling very friendly towards each other so much right now.
I realize that as one being, it seems odd, perhaps even impossible, to be at odds with yourself, but believe me. It's possible.
Not a fan, physicality. Stop fucking around with me, because I do NOT find this at all amusing or entertaining.
Also, now into November. Sigh.
Is it wrong to say that I'm tired of having sex? Because I am. It's nothing to do with DH and everything to do with being resentful of being in this situation to begin with. It gets more and more difficult to push away the thoughts that I should still be recovering, snuggling at home with Gabe while still on leave, not trying to work up enthusiasm to have sex yet again while we desperately work on perfect timing and my body just doesn't work the way it is supposed to.
I am tired. I am tired of the whole mess. Some bad news at work casts some doubt on the wisdom of proceeding with this, and there is always the looming thought that losing weight can only be to my benefit in a future pregnancy. In short, logically, there is every good reason to take a break. I'm tired, I'm not in physically optimal condition, our finances are being overhauled and the potential for nasty things like forced vacations, limited sick/vacation roll-over for next fiscal year, and unpaid furloughs now looming. The smart thing to do, it would seem, would be just let things be for a couple of months.
But that goes so totally against the compulsion I feel that I simply can't do it. So I feel growly and gruesome and sometimes just plain angry at the place I find myself. Logic be damned, I want my living child and I will feel incomplete until I hold him or her in my arms and take them home. Not that that will make everything all better, but walking around with a gaping piece of me missing (the one labelled 'mother') hurts. I'm more tired of that pain than I am the rest of the mess.
(by the by, if I seem more mood swingy than normal, I don't think it's unfair to attribute that to the anti-depressant weaning schedule that is fucking around with my body as well).
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Black Humor
I said to a friend the other day, when we were discussing how we had expected our lives to be very different than they are at this point, "Yeah, I expected to be trying for my second child now."
Then I paused and thought about what I'd said, and then said, "Well, huh. I guess I am, aren't I?"
And I burst into gales of laughter because I found that utterly hilarious. Life does work out in a perverse sort of way, no? I suppose what I ought to have said was not that I had expected to be trying to conceive my second, but that I had thought my first would be alive when that happened.
Ah, words. I read on a fanfiction discussion site something terribly interesting. It was a thread between various esteemed and established fanfic authors discussing plot directions they refused to engage in and a heated point of discussion was rape. One author pointed out that it could be well done and another said yes, but it rarely was because those who engage in it have rarely experienced it themselves and don't understand how a major disruptive life event like that shatters a person. In fact, he said something utterly brilliant - that it was akin to someone reaching into a person, pulling out their soul and running through a blender with a lot of other foreign ingredients - that things like that utterly change you at the foundation of who you are. You may still have the same things as before, but you are irrevocably changed from top to bottom.
And my God, is that ever true. I don't know that I could explain any better. It's not that all death doesn't change one in some way, because it does change you to lose someone you love forever. But unexpected deaths - a parent when they are young and healthy, a sibling or friend, a violent death, or some outside the order we have come to expect like the death of a child - it rips up your soul and mixes it around and you are forever altered. You are changed from the course up.
I think that is what makes people uncomfortable and that is what they urge you so much to return to yourself. They don't understand that you can't, they are afraid of what that means. It's not comfortable at all to be reminded at how little is truly within our control and how unalterably different we can become in a heartbeat or the blink of an eye.
There is blackness in life. I no longer pretend otherwise. Instead, I nod to it, and welcome it to sit with us awhile, and curl up with a book in front of the fire. Because I guess while I wish none of it had happened, while I wish Gabe to be with us, I don't dislike who I have become. I'm not perfect, but I never was. I am far more comfortable with this newer me. I am slower to criticize and more willing to accept the lack of perfection.
I saw some thing clearly in the immediate aftermath. When I asked how I would be able to maintain relationships with certain people, the answer is that I wouldn't. When I said I was changing, I was. When I wondered about who that person would be, I had no idea, and I was scared. But I am me. And I like me.
Then I paused and thought about what I'd said, and then said, "Well, huh. I guess I am, aren't I?"
And I burst into gales of laughter because I found that utterly hilarious. Life does work out in a perverse sort of way, no? I suppose what I ought to have said was not that I had expected to be trying to conceive my second, but that I had thought my first would be alive when that happened.
Ah, words. I read on a fanfiction discussion site something terribly interesting. It was a thread between various esteemed and established fanfic authors discussing plot directions they refused to engage in and a heated point of discussion was rape. One author pointed out that it could be well done and another said yes, but it rarely was because those who engage in it have rarely experienced it themselves and don't understand how a major disruptive life event like that shatters a person. In fact, he said something utterly brilliant - that it was akin to someone reaching into a person, pulling out their soul and running through a blender with a lot of other foreign ingredients - that things like that utterly change you at the foundation of who you are. You may still have the same things as before, but you are irrevocably changed from top to bottom.
And my God, is that ever true. I don't know that I could explain any better. It's not that all death doesn't change one in some way, because it does change you to lose someone you love forever. But unexpected deaths - a parent when they are young and healthy, a sibling or friend, a violent death, or some outside the order we have come to expect like the death of a child - it rips up your soul and mixes it around and you are forever altered. You are changed from the course up.
I think that is what makes people uncomfortable and that is what they urge you so much to return to yourself. They don't understand that you can't, they are afraid of what that means. It's not comfortable at all to be reminded at how little is truly within our control and how unalterably different we can become in a heartbeat or the blink of an eye.
There is blackness in life. I no longer pretend otherwise. Instead, I nod to it, and welcome it to sit with us awhile, and curl up with a book in front of the fire. Because I guess while I wish none of it had happened, while I wish Gabe to be with us, I don't dislike who I have become. I'm not perfect, but I never was. I am far more comfortable with this newer me. I am slower to criticize and more willing to accept the lack of perfection.
I saw some thing clearly in the immediate aftermath. When I asked how I would be able to maintain relationships with certain people, the answer is that I wouldn't. When I said I was changing, I was. When I wondered about who that person would be, I had no idea, and I was scared. But I am me. And I like me.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
My brain makes noises
Which is another way of saying the weaning is not going well. I get to take a pill tonight and I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to it. I sort of knew I would have this reaction, because of how I've felt when missing pills and that little break over the chemical pregnancy weekend.
But this is fucking miserable. I have skipped 2 pills on the nurse's advice, and I am dizzy because it's taking my brain a second to process my vision. I can hear my brain moving in my head (that's the only way I can describe the electrical sort of bzzzzing that happens every time I move my head). I am nauseated to the point of morning sickness levels and it's just not a lot of fun in my body right now.
But this is fucking miserable. I have skipped 2 pills on the nurse's advice, and I am dizzy because it's taking my brain a second to process my vision. I can hear my brain moving in my head (that's the only way I can describe the electrical sort of bzzzzing that happens every time I move my head). I am nauseated to the point of morning sickness levels and it's just not a lot of fun in my body right now.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Good news for me
One - I received a shipping notification today that our Valentine's plans are on their way. We are having a carpet picnic, and watching movies (the actual movies are still under discussion) and the special treats I ordered are in fact going to arrive in time.
Two - I got in on a kickass groupon today. $50 for $200 worth of merchandise at an eye clinic, good for glasses frames, repairs, lenses and up to a 6 month supply of contacts. Since I can have my eyes examined through a work program for a discounted rate, and will now be able to save on updating my prescription and ordering new contacts, I'm thrilled. Given that I'm squinting through my glasses and down to my last two pairs of contacts, this is quite timely.
If you haven't checked out Groupon.com, do. It's not available everywhere, but every deal I've seen locally has been pretty good (not for me, necessarily, but generally speaking).
Three - I've started stressing some about our finances. Our credit card was the closest it has ever been to the limit, which is a heart attack in itself, but the really hyperventilaty part is the finance charges. As has happened to many people, my interest rate was jacked up to the limit because of a 'late' payment - the payment didn't process until 8:00 the day after it was due - the first time in over 5 years, but that didn't matter. No amount of effort on my part reduced it.
We started exploring other options when that occurred, but our pregnancy captured my attention, and though I opened a new credit card with a far superior interest rate and 0% APR for a year on balance transfers, we made no moves. Then life happened and we suddenly had numerous unexpected expenses and the card balance crept up between those, reduced payments and staggering interest rates.
This month I decided enough was enough and began trying to find ways to fix this problem. We've made strides in other areas of our finances - in savings, in planning, in life insurance, etc. Now we have to fix this. I looked at some of the recurring charges and we decided what could be moved and what we could live without. That helped. But still - the highest it has ever been made me sweaty when I thought too long about it.
So I applied for the balance transfer. The new card's limit wasn't enough to transfer the entire balance (and you can't believe how ashamed I am to admit that), but we hoped to transfer half. Doing so would reduce the monthly payment on the high interest card to manageable proportions and give us some hope of actually paying it off. But they would run a credit check before approving it and I was sweating it. Last year this time, I had stunning credit. This year, I have higher than ever debt to income ratios and a car payment I didn't have last year and a late bill (one of the hospital bills got lost and was paid late). Not great. Probably still better than 60% of America at this point, but well. . .
Anyhow, I got notification today that the transfer was approved. So now, I am breathing a huge sigh of relief. This means that our monthly payment will actually go some distance towards reducing the balance and once we finish paying the hospital bills next month, those funds can go towards the balance that is currently resting at 0% interest. So more principle will be reduced and my hope is that within 6 months, we will be able to switch the amounts and pay off more of the 0 interest card and then be able to transfer the remaining balance off the high interest card. That will then mean we are saving, since our low interest on the new card will be significantly better. And then once there is no balance on the high interest card for 3 months, I can appeal to have my rate lowered. The card will be frozen (literally, a block of ice in my freezer), but available for emergencies, which is what we want.
I can see ways we may actually pay this sucker off yet, and it's thrilling.
Fourth and last (because 4 is a lucky number for me) - I called the doctor about switching to Zoloft. She was not there, but her nurse pulled my file and the notes indicate that is fine and they are weaning me from Pristiq and the on-call doc will call in the Zoloft prescription for me. This has been weighing on my mind, and it took a bit to do it, but I'm glad it's done and happening. I need to continue the meds and Zoloft is the best choice for pregnancy. It's possible I could end up off completely, but I doubt that a lot at this point. And if I'm honest, I like the calmer base this gives me. It makes it easier for the new things I'm learning to keep me from getting so worked up about stuff. And that makes life easier for me and everyone around me.
So, yay. A good day today, I think.
Two - I got in on a kickass groupon today. $50 for $200 worth of merchandise at an eye clinic, good for glasses frames, repairs, lenses and up to a 6 month supply of contacts. Since I can have my eyes examined through a work program for a discounted rate, and will now be able to save on updating my prescription and ordering new contacts, I'm thrilled. Given that I'm squinting through my glasses and down to my last two pairs of contacts, this is quite timely.
If you haven't checked out Groupon.com, do. It's not available everywhere, but every deal I've seen locally has been pretty good (not for me, necessarily, but generally speaking).
Three - I've started stressing some about our finances. Our credit card was the closest it has ever been to the limit, which is a heart attack in itself, but the really hyperventilaty part is the finance charges. As has happened to many people, my interest rate was jacked up to the limit because of a 'late' payment - the payment didn't process until 8:00 the day after it was due - the first time in over 5 years, but that didn't matter. No amount of effort on my part reduced it.
We started exploring other options when that occurred, but our pregnancy captured my attention, and though I opened a new credit card with a far superior interest rate and 0% APR for a year on balance transfers, we made no moves. Then life happened and we suddenly had numerous unexpected expenses and the card balance crept up between those, reduced payments and staggering interest rates.
This month I decided enough was enough and began trying to find ways to fix this problem. We've made strides in other areas of our finances - in savings, in planning, in life insurance, etc. Now we have to fix this. I looked at some of the recurring charges and we decided what could be moved and what we could live without. That helped. But still - the highest it has ever been made me sweaty when I thought too long about it.
So I applied for the balance transfer. The new card's limit wasn't enough to transfer the entire balance (and you can't believe how ashamed I am to admit that), but we hoped to transfer half. Doing so would reduce the monthly payment on the high interest card to manageable proportions and give us some hope of actually paying it off. But they would run a credit check before approving it and I was sweating it. Last year this time, I had stunning credit. This year, I have higher than ever debt to income ratios and a car payment I didn't have last year and a late bill (one of the hospital bills got lost and was paid late). Not great. Probably still better than 60% of America at this point, but well. . .
Anyhow, I got notification today that the transfer was approved. So now, I am breathing a huge sigh of relief. This means that our monthly payment will actually go some distance towards reducing the balance and once we finish paying the hospital bills next month, those funds can go towards the balance that is currently resting at 0% interest. So more principle will be reduced and my hope is that within 6 months, we will be able to switch the amounts and pay off more of the 0 interest card and then be able to transfer the remaining balance off the high interest card. That will then mean we are saving, since our low interest on the new card will be significantly better. And then once there is no balance on the high interest card for 3 months, I can appeal to have my rate lowered. The card will be frozen (literally, a block of ice in my freezer), but available for emergencies, which is what we want.
I can see ways we may actually pay this sucker off yet, and it's thrilling.
Fourth and last (because 4 is a lucky number for me) - I called the doctor about switching to Zoloft. She was not there, but her nurse pulled my file and the notes indicate that is fine and they are weaning me from Pristiq and the on-call doc will call in the Zoloft prescription for me. This has been weighing on my mind, and it took a bit to do it, but I'm glad it's done and happening. I need to continue the meds and Zoloft is the best choice for pregnancy. It's possible I could end up off completely, but I doubt that a lot at this point. And if I'm honest, I like the calmer base this gives me. It makes it easier for the new things I'm learning to keep me from getting so worked up about stuff. And that makes life easier for me and everyone around me.
So, yay. A good day today, I think.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Miscellany
Business first. For those interested in keeping up on this cycle, my chart may be found here: http://www.fertilityfriend.com/home/17b60f Knock yourselves out. This now eliminates my need to communicate unless I need to talk about it to get it off my mind, while still satisfying any who are curious.
Next up: I dreamed a dream yesterday. About Gabriel. The only dream of him I can remember (I remember some nightmares of the hospital and his birth but this was different). It was wonderful, because I got to see his face, aged about 4-5 years. I got to spend time with him, watch him with his daddy, hug him, hold him. And he loved us. He told us he loved us and he understood. Priceless. And not as sad as you might think. I was sad to wake up, but I sort of knew all along it was a dream, so it wasn't shocking or upsetting to wake up. Mostly I wish it had been a shared experience, so DH could know what Gabe looked like as a little boy.
And next: There is a really neat project going on at still life 365. Here is the description, taken from that site: "still life 365 is a unique art project for, about and by mothers and fathers who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. still life 365 posts a piece of art every day by a poet, artist, photographer, crafter, musician, collagist, paper artist, filmmaker, painter, sculptor, fabric artist and ordinary person exploring grief through creativity. each piece is an expression of grief, survival, sadness, love and hope. still life 365 is intended to be a safe space for creative expression."
What a neat thing is happening there, opening space for grieving parents to express themselves in different media. I'm inspired by it, awed by it, even as I nod my head along and spend time looking at the art there. I hope you stop by and take a look as well, and if you have suffered pregnancy or baby loss, consider opening your creative side and allow some of your grief through in a different way than you might normally.
And to wrap things up, a little update on me. I don't think I've really talked much about how I'm doing lately, at least not directly. The experience of the chemical pregnancy and how foolish I felt sort of turned me off it for awhile, I guess. But I do spend a fair amount of time continuing to work through (analytically these days) our short time with Gabriel and how we are doing now.
I feel comfortable saying that we are, that I am, doing ok. The ache is ever present, but we have proceeded on with life. This life is not what we would have chosen or wanted, but is the one we've been given to live. I feel lucky to have Gabriel as our son, despite his existing now only as a spark, a spirit, a soul. I feel lucky that he visits us and that we got to know him, however briefly. I miss him tremendously.
It's sort of odd, because he wasn't around long, and how much of him did we really know and how much was a construct or our own thoughts thrust on him? I don't know, and I find these days that I don't much care. The impact he had on us, and our lives, and consequently the ripples outward from us (let alone the ripples in other people's ponds directly caused by him) is stunning. Sometimes I marvel, sometimes I still weep.
It's not low lows anymore. Which is good. We feel pretty . . . normal. We laugh, we live, we love, and we sometimes raise a glass in silent acknowledgement of the hole that is there.
Life is not always easy. I have come to realize I'm hiding more than I might admit, unwilling to spend time with people who don't know or care. Hard to believe we're coming up on 6 months, and yet. . . I'm still hiding, still trying to protect myself. It's still better that way, I think. I've also come to realize how permanent this hole is. How fragile my heart is. It's rather like Humpty-Dumpty. All the king's horses and all the king's men . . . the heart has been broken and some parts are ground into tiny pieces beneath the horses' hooves and are not replaceable or fixable. There is glue enough, I think, to function, but perfection is unattainable.
Perhaps what I've learned is that it was never attainable, and that control is a myth. I'm slowly learning to integrate what I've learned into my worldview. I'm not settled yet, but a lot of the anger is gone. Evaporated away.
I guess I'll quote myself from a thread on gitw: "I guess I sort of think that you [I] will always be Medusa somehow, but that when you [I] can look in the mirror and see the snakes writhing and not be turned to stone yourself [myself], you are [I am] on the road to peace."
I see writhing, I see the marks upon me, and I am not stone any longer. Ready to move ahead? That depends on the day. But I can meet my own eyes now. And that is movement down the road.
Next up: I dreamed a dream yesterday. About Gabriel. The only dream of him I can remember (I remember some nightmares of the hospital and his birth but this was different). It was wonderful, because I got to see his face, aged about 4-5 years. I got to spend time with him, watch him with his daddy, hug him, hold him. And he loved us. He told us he loved us and he understood. Priceless. And not as sad as you might think. I was sad to wake up, but I sort of knew all along it was a dream, so it wasn't shocking or upsetting to wake up. Mostly I wish it had been a shared experience, so DH could know what Gabe looked like as a little boy.
And next: There is a really neat project going on at still life 365. Here is the description, taken from that site: "still life 365 is a unique art project for, about and by mothers and fathers who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. still life 365 posts a piece of art every day by a poet, artist, photographer, crafter, musician, collagist, paper artist, filmmaker, painter, sculptor, fabric artist and ordinary person exploring grief through creativity. each piece is an expression of grief, survival, sadness, love and hope. still life 365 is intended to be a safe space for creative expression."
What a neat thing is happening there, opening space for grieving parents to express themselves in different media. I'm inspired by it, awed by it, even as I nod my head along and spend time looking at the art there. I hope you stop by and take a look as well, and if you have suffered pregnancy or baby loss, consider opening your creative side and allow some of your grief through in a different way than you might normally.
And to wrap things up, a little update on me. I don't think I've really talked much about how I'm doing lately, at least not directly. The experience of the chemical pregnancy and how foolish I felt sort of turned me off it for awhile, I guess. But I do spend a fair amount of time continuing to work through (analytically these days) our short time with Gabriel and how we are doing now.
I feel comfortable saying that we are, that I am, doing ok. The ache is ever present, but we have proceeded on with life. This life is not what we would have chosen or wanted, but is the one we've been given to live. I feel lucky to have Gabriel as our son, despite his existing now only as a spark, a spirit, a soul. I feel lucky that he visits us and that we got to know him, however briefly. I miss him tremendously.
It's sort of odd, because he wasn't around long, and how much of him did we really know and how much was a construct or our own thoughts thrust on him? I don't know, and I find these days that I don't much care. The impact he had on us, and our lives, and consequently the ripples outward from us (let alone the ripples in other people's ponds directly caused by him) is stunning. Sometimes I marvel, sometimes I still weep.
It's not low lows anymore. Which is good. We feel pretty . . . normal. We laugh, we live, we love, and we sometimes raise a glass in silent acknowledgement of the hole that is there.
Life is not always easy. I have come to realize I'm hiding more than I might admit, unwilling to spend time with people who don't know or care. Hard to believe we're coming up on 6 months, and yet. . . I'm still hiding, still trying to protect myself. It's still better that way, I think. I've also come to realize how permanent this hole is. How fragile my heart is. It's rather like Humpty-Dumpty. All the king's horses and all the king's men . . . the heart has been broken and some parts are ground into tiny pieces beneath the horses' hooves and are not replaceable or fixable. There is glue enough, I think, to function, but perfection is unattainable.
Perhaps what I've learned is that it was never attainable, and that control is a myth. I'm slowly learning to integrate what I've learned into my worldview. I'm not settled yet, but a lot of the anger is gone. Evaporated away.
I guess I'll quote myself from a thread on gitw: "I guess I sort of think that you [I] will always be Medusa somehow, but that when you [I] can look in the mirror and see the snakes writhing and not be turned to stone yourself [myself], you are [I am] on the road to peace."
I see writhing, I see the marks upon me, and I am not stone any longer. Ready to move ahead? That depends on the day. But I can meet my own eyes now. And that is movement down the road.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Whew!
Temp dropped half a degree this morning.
And cm is definitely fertile.
No ovulation! Not generally something I get excited about, but in this case, I'm glad for the reprieve. I think we'll take tonight off and then start the marathon Wednesday, with an eye towards (fingers crossed) an ovulation date around cd 21 or so. I'd really like to sneak into October if we conceive this month (though I'm coming around mentally to an induction date, and should actually conceive, that would happen in October anyway). I know it's foolish to even consider such things, but, well, there you are anyhow.
Back to regularly scheduled . . . something else-ness, I guess.
Hey guess I'm eating for lunch this week? Southeast Asian Grilled Beef Salad. Somewhere, no doubt, my friend Cathy is shaking her head or chuckling, as she gave me the recipe and I've made it no less than 4 times over the past few weeks once I rediscovered it.
And cm is definitely fertile.
No ovulation! Not generally something I get excited about, but in this case, I'm glad for the reprieve. I think we'll take tonight off and then start the marathon Wednesday, with an eye towards (fingers crossed) an ovulation date around cd 21 or so. I'd really like to sneak into October if we conceive this month (though I'm coming around mentally to an induction date, and should actually conceive, that would happen in October anyway). I know it's foolish to even consider such things, but, well, there you are anyhow.
Back to regularly scheduled . . . something else-ness, I guess.
Hey guess I'm eating for lunch this week? Southeast Asian Grilled Beef Salad. Somewhere, no doubt, my friend Cathy is shaking her head or chuckling, as she gave me the recipe and I've made it no less than 4 times over the past few weeks once I rediscovered it.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Ugh. Temp Spike.
I don't intend to post too too much about this cycle (ironic, given that that was originally the purpose of this blog). But I'm a little wary of a .4 jump over yesterday's temp, and a jump that is higher than any temp of the past five days.
I haven't had much by way of fertility signs. A teeny bit of ewcm yesterday, more the night before - but given that it was after sex, I'm inclined to write it off. Cervix has never been fully open, but it's been high enough to worry me. No positive opk yet, but one darker than others, two days ago.
All my planning for this cycle was based around resignation that ovulation would be later in the cycle than I'd like and I'd cut out green tea, which I think has made a difference, in that today is cd 15, and no copious amounts of ewcm, which doesn't meet up with my other charts in which green tea was consumed. Regardless, we've only had sex once, with the idea that we would pace it until we got closer to when I expected ovulation so we wouldn't be quite so worn out.
I don't think I ovulated, though we'll have a better idea later today and tomorrow when I see what happens. But I can't tell you how annoyed I would be if I actually did ovulate on cd 14 and didn't even get to take advantage of it with a decent shot at conception. Let alone how annoyed I'll be if it turns out I should be drinking the damn tea after all.
I haven't had much by way of fertility signs. A teeny bit of ewcm yesterday, more the night before - but given that it was after sex, I'm inclined to write it off. Cervix has never been fully open, but it's been high enough to worry me. No positive opk yet, but one darker than others, two days ago.
All my planning for this cycle was based around resignation that ovulation would be later in the cycle than I'd like and I'd cut out green tea, which I think has made a difference, in that today is cd 15, and no copious amounts of ewcm, which doesn't meet up with my other charts in which green tea was consumed. Regardless, we've only had sex once, with the idea that we would pace it until we got closer to when I expected ovulation so we wouldn't be quite so worn out.
I don't think I ovulated, though we'll have a better idea later today and tomorrow when I see what happens. But I can't tell you how annoyed I would be if I actually did ovulate on cd 14 and didn't even get to take advantage of it with a decent shot at conception. Let alone how annoyed I'll be if it turns out I should be drinking the damn tea after all.
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