I feel it worth noting:

Today is cd 16.

I have a + opk. I ought to have, in my opinion, of course, had a Peak on the CBEFM today.

I have what feels like a golf ball trying to explode from my abdomen.

It hurts like a MTHFR. Seriously, I've been a fair amount of pain for a few hours now. It's making me whiney.

But hell, y'all. This is EARLY. This is like NORMAL PEOPLE.

Mark it down. It may never happen again.

Weird.

I started having ewcm on Friday. Unmistakable. And since we hadn't had sex in like, forever, because of the stupid bronchitis and coughing a lot and so on.

Bit early, I thought, but that was fine. CBEFM's remained low.

The ewcm has only increased since then.

And the opk I took this evening? Not positive, but pretty dark. Huh.

Interesting to see what happens with this one.

And while I'm waiting, I will be occupied w/ Twitter because the obsession doesn't end, it only grows. And The Blogess, because, awesome.

I get it, I really do. I'm just an unappreciative heathen.

Soccer bores me.

I'm sorry.

I really am.

I want to like it, really. I get the appeal, the excitement, the feeling it could go any way at any moment. I understand the athleticism involved in it and am very impressed at the precision required.

Unfortunately, it's like baseball in that regard.

Bloody boring. For most of it, it's just men running back and forth over a big field.

I know, I know, basketball is much the same. Except it's way smaller, the ball moves around more and there is a shot-clock limiting the amount of time one can retain possession of the ball and attempt to score. So it contains more instant gratification and moves at a faster pace.

So, while I'm shockingly more up-to-date on the World Cup and have actually watched several games with my husband, and actually knew more about WC than the NBA draft (which makes me feel all sorts of wrong), I am terribly bored by it all.

Sorry. I want to like it. I know it's the biggest international sport and all. But. . . yawn.

OMG, How?! HOW?

How is it possible to have become so addicted to twitter, after starting an account less than 48 hours ago?

HOW?

I have WORK to do. I have . . . um . . . STUFF to do. I have a life, even if much of it is frittered away in front of the television or in writing stories about Fred and Hermione that I will never allow to see the light of day.

And yet, I am completely and utterly addicted. My feed looks schizophrenic, a bizarre mix of Spurs players/news, English actors significantly younger than myself who *may* happen to be in movies that *might* also involve Fred and Hermione (ok, I admit it, I really just sort of want to follow the Phelps twins because I totally have a crush on them, but really it's because Fred and George are my favorite characters in Harry Potter. And the twins who play them, Oliver and James, are just so damn cute. And funny. And yes, I'm 30 and happily married. So what? I don't want to shag them, just have a beer or four with them and bff's 4evah) and where was I?

Oh right.

Twitter. Feeds. I also have several comedians (Conan, Chelsea Handler, Jim Gaffigan, etc) and cast members from my two favorite cable shows (Leverage and Burn Notice). And several babyloss and IF bloggers who float around twitter.

So it's this totally bizarre mix of things and people. Fun. Enjoyable.

And apparently scarily addictive.

Because I feel twitchy when I can't check the feed update every few minutes.

Less than 48 hours, people. Very little of depth or substance. Just some funny things. WTH?! Nothing I would regret not knowing before I died.

And yet . . . maybe I should activate the internet service for our phones . . .

That settles that.

For a variety of reasons, including a wee bit of sleep deprivation, I realized that I've missed at least two, and possibly three doses of my anti-depressant until tonight.

I noticed that yesterday and today, I'd been feeling more scattered, more anxious, and this evening was starting to feel really down. I didn't like it at all. It was unnerving, and didn't feel good.

Now that I realized the pills were missing, I'm thinking there may be a connection.

Which is sort of scary. I didn't want to be forever dependent on the A/Ds. But you know what? My mom has needed them for a long time. And if that is how it feels going off?

No thanks.

The way I feel on is just so much more stable. It's not numbing, it's not a happy pill. It just . . . keeps me level and helps me focus. The highs are still highs, but the lows and the fears are not so soul-sucking and crushing.

Scary thought that my prescription is almost up again. Definitely need to get a new PCP and consider switching the prescription out from Dr. B to a PCP. Because, man. It was hell getting the last one written. I'll try the pharmacy thing the office suggested, but . . . ugh.

Even if I rethink it after the fact, there is no way I will consider going without the A/Ds as we approach August. God, how I've loathed that month. It's certainly not endeared to me now.

Today?

Is a good day.


* * *

That's all, really.

Just an fyi.

What they say about cough medicines? That the whatever-g-ingredient the expectorant is thins out your mucuous and makes it a bit more watery and copious, so it's more easily expelled when you cough? And that it can affect all your mucuous, including cervical mucuous?

Yeah, um, that's true.

And kind of gross.

In case you needed that information.

Now you know.

I, however, do not recommend it as a course of action. Because, ew. And I've been shoving my fingers into my vagina to check that stuff on purpose for years now. YEARS. And still, ew.

For every season

"To everything there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones,
and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace."

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

* * * * *

It is time for a change.

You may have noticed rather a drastic one. Sorry for any nasty shock that may have been.

My old background was sort of special to me, if in rather a macabre way. It was home for me for nearly two years. But it was dark - something my sister (the only family member to ever be given this blog address, though I wouldn't put it past my clever mother to have figured it out, given the amount of time she's spent with me and my laptop) complained vociferously about. It was comfortable and it was the place in which I wrote about Gabriel.

Letting go of that was surprisingly difficult.

But, I think, I need some change. And perhaps letting a little sunlight in is not such a bad thing.

Though this isn't meant to be an extended metaphor, I realized after having chosen the template and played with the colors, that in some ways it is.

There is another change; one I'm hesitant to speak of. Perhaps, once it's settled in more, I'll address it more.

Beyond this visual, I doubt there will be any other changes. The content is much as it has ever been, one extreme to another, the grief that I live with every day, the bits of joy that permeate it. The hope of another child, the disappointments of that journey (ugh, that is such an overused word these days, isn't it? And yet. . .).

So, let's try this out for awhile. Let's hope sunnier days are ahead, or at least some light in the darkness of the months ahead, as the world we live in collides with the world we never left, as the journey around the sun begins anew.

I guess I hope that I can find the balances in the times, that I can find the way to healing and dancing alongside mourning and weeping.

Mom was wrong.

We bought this house nearly 4 years ago, in summer 2006. Two bedroom townhome. We had a plan, you see. I know, I know, even then in our blissfully ignorant lives, we were tempting fate.

Buy a townhome, as it was in our low price range, and it would be easier to sell. Because there are always people like us - childfree, looking for a small place to start out in, older couples looking to scale down, etc. Then we'd move back home and into a bigger place, probably within 5 years or so. Because of course, by then, we'd likely have two kids.

Do try to hold in your laughter. I, myself, am struggling not to roll on the floor in mirth and trigger a bad coughing episode. Life really is funny in the most unexpected ways.

Anyhow, when we moved in, the second bedroom was the catch-all for odds and ends. After a few months, I began making noises about how we planned to clean it out and fix it up as a guest room. Mom told me to wait. We were still planning on trying for children that next summer, so it made sense.

When we decided to put it all off a year, I started talking about it again. Mom again advised me to wait. She was pretty much our only real overnight visitor and was content sleeping on the sofa. She said expending the money it would take - paint, outlets, drapes, a new mattress, etc (it was about this time we purchased the dresser and changer on sale, thinking they would work nicely as a dual purpose peace - my husband stores his clothing in the dresser now) - that was just wasteful. Why expend the time and money to do the room over twice? That was just silly.

So I listened to her. It stayed as it was. Filled with boxes - I did go through them at one point, but you'd never guess it now, as there are still boxes in there. Old exercise equipment I occassionally think to offer up for free on craigslist or to the Salvation Army or pretty well anyone who will take it off my hands, thanks, but haven't done it yet. My old disassembled bed. And . . . the baby stuff.

Over the years we were waiting to try and conceive, trying to conceive, pregnant (but very, very rarely when I was pregnant. In fact, just twice) we began accumulating baby gear. I never had any doubt about the wisdom of that course of action. We were going to have children, why not spread out the expenses and buy things on sale? Only gender neutral things or things I knew we would use. Including a crib. That's been sitting up there disassembled for some time now. It's filled with baby stuff. A carseat, stroller, swing, crib, changer, diapers, all my old Classic Pooh things I'd been given over the years, a mobile, Boppy, and two big boxes filled with Gabriel's clothes, bought days before his birth.

I don't go in there much, but the door is always open for the cats. It doesn't bother me much, I just have no reason to be there. I can remember going with my mom, talking about buying a crib soon, as we were shopping for my sister's baby shower - my nephew will be 3 in October - and telling her seriously about our plans. I shrugged off her comments about how I wouldn't want that stuff in my house if it took awhile to conceive or if we had a miscarriage. I said it didn't matter. I knew we would have children, one way or another. What was the harm? If we adopted, we'd have to buy it all anyway, and better now than when we were emotionally invested.

I still think that's true.

But I know a bigger truth. I shouldn't have listened to my mom in the beginning. If we hadn't had a room in which to store all that stuff, then we wouldn't have it. And we'd have a room in use, for her to sleep in when she visited.

I stood in there today, and realized for the first time that we may never be parents to a child that needs that stuff. That gorgeous crib that I just fell in love with. That nursery I planned in my mind. Those tiny little clothes I bought for my teeny little boy (thinking of how small that little newborn onesie was . . . how sadly ironic now). We may end up giving it all away. I'm beginning to come around to thinking about this. I know we are very young yet, that we still have several options, and that six cycles is not so very long. I know all these things, but a question I asked a few months ago was whether or not I could be happy never having children. My husband said he could, that he wanted children because he wanted them with me. That he could be happy with just me in the rest of his life. I said I didn't know.

I think now, I do. I can live with it. I can be happy at times. I could live a contented existence, though I'd probably always be the crazy lady who is a little too into her pets. But it's not what I want. At all. That isn't the life I want. If it happens, I do know now that I can survive it and be tolerably comfortable. But I want more than tolerable comfort.

So I'm not ready to do over the room yet. In a year, if by then I am still not pregnant, I will. It will become a functional guest room. But for now, I have to try for more.

Bronchitis

I haz it.

No wonder I've not been feeling well.

I took off Tuesday and Wednesday and the plan was to dose it up with Dayquil and go in today. But when I peeled myself out of bed, I felt awful and apparently looked it, because DH was concerned.

I called in again and then my boss called to gently remind me that after 2 days out, policy requires that I bring in a doctor's note attesting to my illness and my need to be out. Not that she disbelieved me, she was quite apologetic. She just reminded me that we enforce that policy on others, so I need to follow it as well.

So I went to the doctor, care of the urgent care clinic.

Bad timing, as it was apparently company physical day, but after a wait, they got me back to see the doc. I was apologetic and said I really thought it was just a cold, but that I really felt unwell and now was required to have a note for work, so there I was. They did flu and strep tests, which were negative. Listened to my chest and confirmed I was congested and listened to my cough.

Then said 'Yep, bronchitis.' and handed me a prescription for a Z-pack and the magical note for work saying I could return on Monday. Now I'm going to take the pills and go collapse into bed and sleep away the afternoon.

Blah.

The worst thing is that being actually sick, the inadvertent 6 day weekend has been wasted on me. I've not caught up on my reading or watched good tv or gotten anything done. I've slept and huddled in my chair, feeling miserable. And I feel really guilty for missing work.

You know what is awesome?

Feeling unwell.

Summer cold, I think. Chest congestion, not feeling well, achiness, fatigue, etc. I was coughing up green stuff this morning and it hurt to take a deep breath. So I said, screw it, I'm staying home.

I was up for a bit and decided to go back to bed. After all, sleep is probably the best medicine, right?

Is this a good time to mention something that you probably never wanted to know? I tend to sleep in the nude. I find it to be far more comfortable.

So you can imagine my horror and the pounding andrenaline rush of fear when I hear a booming voice outside my window.

Scared the fuck out of me.

Turns out, our neighbors are having similar issues to what we are having with their windows - some leaking. It's not clear if this is a guy checking for repairs or an estimate or an insurance claim, but because of the proximity, it sounded like it was right outside my window.

I'm just now beginning to come down from that rush.

And I still feel like shit.

Well, hello cycle 15, 16? 6, 7? I've lost count.

After a promising weekend, things took a dive yesterday afternoon when I started spotting. Naturally after getting what we thought was a positive test on a saveontests.com cassette. Line formed within 2 minutes and was visible and pink-ish.

The spotting actually stopped relatively quickly. We felt sort of hopeful. But alas, this morning's temperature nose-dived and spotting increased overnight and cycle what-the-fuck-ever-it-is has arrived.

And you know what?

It's ok.

Last cycle? Not ok. Definitely not ok.

Cycle before that? Also not ok. It hasn't been ok to be not pregnant in awhile.

But for reasons I cannot possibly explain to you, this time it is. I feel calm, not anxious. I don't feel depressed or sad, just a little disappointed that it didn't work out. I really feel like it will happen when it is meant to happen (and I'm not sure what entity in the universe controls that, but that's a philosophical discussion for another time). There are other things taking up my attention right now. Trying to get more consistent with the exercise (better last cycle, but in no way consistent). I've set a small, and I think achievable, weight loss goal for the next two weeks. And a slightly bigger goal for the next month. DH is helping me patiently with that - to the point of agreeing to weigh me and write it down so I don't know the number, because I think that would lead to obsession.

We are also working to pay down the debt, and frankly, every month more we have to do that is that much better I feel about a pregnancy and the possible complications and a child. I worry a lot about how it will all fit together. I know it will all work itself out, but not quite being able to see how that is stressed me out some. It's slow progress, but it is progress. And that is worth focusing on.

And in some ways, though this is subject to radical change, I kind of think it might be better not to be pregnant when Gabriel's birth date rolls around. I mean, we're not stopping ttc at this point (unless we decide to get short-term disability for me during open enrollment, then we may), but that time might be easier without the stress of a pregnancy on it.

I guess, in many ways, I'm sort of relaxing about it all. I don't know why. I don't know how long this will last. I don't know anything. I'm just sort of . . . hanging out right now. Waiting to see what happens. If anything, and this may be cursing it, I feel pretty good about the upcoming cycle. Like, things are aligning in ways they haven't yet. But if it doesn't work, well, hopefully that will be ok.

But today, I'm happy to go back to drinking 3-4 cups of green tea. I really do enjoy it (w/ Splenda, to be clear. That stuff is nasty by itself!). I cut down to 1-2 cups during the 11-day wait, because of the potential to affect folic acid absorption (on top of the MTHFR absorption issues). In fact, I'm about to go make a cup now.

Cheers. I hope your day finds a warm comforting cup of something, or a good feeling, or a moment of peace.

Week in Review

My goodness I am flipping exhausted.

Let's see. What's happened since I last found time to immortalize my words for the masses?

- Tuesday, I just didn't feel well. Didn't sleep well, I guess. Cats were bugging me throughout the night. Didn't do much Tuesday night.

- Wednesday. Inlaws in town, for one day only! Coming over to the house after a big family dinner!

Nightmare!

I took a halfday from work to go home and clean. They've never seen the place and I wanted it to look nice. I stopped on the way home to buy new towels for the downstairs bathroom (lipstick on a pig, y'all. For real) and a new welcome mat. And lunch. The plan was to go clean furiously after I got home and ate.

What really happened was that after I ate lunch I wanted to sleep. So I laid down for 20 minutes. Next thing I knew I was looking at the clock and realizing I had to go pick up my husband NOW. So I did. Then we furiously worked on the upstairs.

See, here's the thing. We aren't neat people. And we have had clothes strewn around for awhile. And the cats got into a bag of lint we were saving for the garden. And basically, it was a disaster.

Well, we got it all cleaned up. Got all the clothes in the basket or the closet (albeit in a pile, but hey! They fit!). I didn't have time to clean the bathroom, but DH assured me it wouldn't matter, as they wouldn't come upstairs. In the end, between running downstairs and trying to dust quickly and such, I even forgot to put the newly cleaned duvet on the bed and finish making it. Yeah - it was insane.

But it looked as if people lived there relatively neatly. I mean, not magazine perfect, but not a hovel. Dinner went fine, save for some loose tooth drama with my niece. I believe the toothfairy paid her an extraordinarily expense visit (btw - I got quarters for my teeth. She got a $20 bill. I know inflation and all, but holy hell!). Then we trooped back to my house.

The inlaws seemed surprised when they said it was nice. Gratifying. It was late, so they probably couldn't see all the awfulness outside. Or where we've recently discovered the windows are leaking. Fine by me.

The dog was well-behaved and LOVED that there were kids to play with. There were arguments about treats and throwing the ball for the dog. They wanted to see the kitties, so eventually everyone trooped upstairs (to my horror). Then they left. We survived. I'm just hopeful it didn't smell like cat pee. I don't normally think it does (and God knows we Frebreezed the hell out of the house and had fresh potpourri out), but I'm always paranoid I just don't notice it.

* * * * *

In other Wednesday news - the secret is out! My brother has gotten engaged! YAY!

He called to discuss wedding plans (Puerto Rico - which means I will most likely not be attending, unfortunately) as the in-laws were leaving. I can't believe my baby brother is getting married (a year from today, actually). I'm so happy for him.

* * * * *

Thursday -

Work. Have I mentioned we have a puppy at work for the time being? She is 11 weeks old and belongs to my supervisor's boss. She is bringing her in everyday to potty train her until our new division leader begins in a few weeks. She is just so cute. Makes me want a puppy for all of 10 minutes until the repetition of (NO! Get down! Leave it! NO BITE! No whine! GOOD GIRL! GOOD GIRL!) commands makes me want to sleep.

Puppies are exhausting.

Also? Burn Notice! Yay!

Also? Nausea and sore boobs! Not yay! Opposite of yay!

Friday -

That's today. Still exhausted. Perhaps even more so. I was sleeping so well last night, because we put Amber up. So she wasn't trying to eat my hair. Unfortunately, Barney decided to substitute for her. Sigh.

I keep yawning! It's awful! And layout arrangement is tedious and boring. So progress is slow. No one wants to work. There have been quite a few puppy play-times today. Mostly, I think we're all ready for the weekend.

It's hot outside and was rainy earlier this week. Now, it's just sort of . . . steamy. Summer is not my favorite time of year, I think.

But, we're alive and it wasn't a bad week at all. Just . . . long! I'm quite relieved it's almost over. And bonus! Apart from needing to hang up all of the clothes currently piled in the closet and finish cleaning the bathroom - our house is clean!

Not much to say.

Ovulation was confirmed Saturday; I ovulated on cd 27.

Temps have been clear, seem ok. Jumped up high and haven't varied much since.

I was feeling hopeful for most of the weekend, and it begins to wane today, as I look at my chart and think ... "It's good and all, but it's probably not going to happen for us now."

There was some great news this weekend, but I'm sworn to secrecy. Made me quite happy though.

My brother deploys for his second tour in Iraq soon. Fortunately, he'll only be there until October. I sort of wish I was on better terms with God and could pray for his safety, but I feel like asking for that right now would do more harm than good to him.

Summer is officially here, with humid heat pouring down. Sunday was simply nasty; I didn't even want to try to swim because it felt like the water would be too warm. Maybe this week - have to use my new swim cap, right?

Cats are good, dog is good. Husband is good, I am ok.

Just in the waiting zone I guess. There is so much I want to talk about and so little I have to say. It can be roughly summed up thusly:

- I miss my son.
- I want to be pregnant again.
- I have no idea when or if it will happen.
- Tired of getting my hopes up.
- Still have hope my husband will put the laundry away tonight. Not high ones, mind, but hopes, all the same.

Perspective is an odd thing

It occurred to me today that yesterday was June 4.

In the past, that day has marked a couple of things.

It was my parent's anniversary. They were married for nearly 25 years, splitting in 2001, following a lot of changes to my mom after a suicide attempt precipitated by the wrong dosage of anti-depressants.

It was devestating at the time, and some of the repurcusions have been hard. But I think nearly 10 years later, that in a lot of ways, my parents (who still hold each other in high esteem and talk regularly) are happier apart. My dad remarried and loves his wife and step-daughter and my mom has been free to pursue things she would not have done if still married to my dad.

June 4 also marks the due date of our first planned pregnancy - Chickadee. Had that worked out, I'd be busy with a one year old, and Gabriel would never have existed at all.

When we found out there was no viable embryo, I thought I understood pain. I cried and cried and railed at the injustice of it all.

Funny how subsequent events have turned that nearly to a pleasant memory. Not that it was pleasant or happy, not that it wasn't painful and hurtful. It's just impossible to expend any more sadness on that event, given how much is consumed by what followed.

I had forgotten, even.

An odd thing, life. What you remember and learn and take away. Odd how the experiences we have shape us into the people we are. I haven't thought about that lost little soul that I had so dearly loved and anticipated in months. I'm too busy thinking about that lost little person who I long for and love and miss everyday.

A perspective that perhaps I could have done without seeing. I had thought then that it was one of the worst things of my life, ranking up there above my mother's suicide attempt and my husband (then fiance)and his abortive suicide attempt. And perhaps, to that point, it had been.

It's just that it pales in comparison. Regrets are wasted on it now. Better to look ahead and cling to a shredded rag of hope, because the wasteland that marks the path I've already walked is desolate.

A couple of things

1) Temp jumped mightily today. Let's hope it stays up.

2) A friend recently told me she'd had a dream about me that happened at the same time something else did. Coincidence? Probably. But I cannot shake the feeling it's very meaningful.

3) Last night when we were getting ready for bed, DH shut Jonah into his crate and came upstairs to feed the cats. He couldn't find Barnabas, and that is odd, as he usually comes running at mealtime. A search commenced, including under the table and couch and in closets and I finally heard DH laugh loudly.

Barney had apparently settled himself in Jonah's crate for a nap and blended in when DH put up the dog. As they have become good friends, there were no hysterics or disaster, but Barney was relieved to be let out.

4) Today, while working, I went to change a figure from $80 to $100. Easy enough. Then I realized it was split-paid, and our portion was only 91%. I actually reached for my calculator to figure out how much 91% of $100 was.

Then I caught myself and shook my head and put in $91.

Then I realized that the split was being rounded by the formula, and it wasn't 91%, it was actually 90.52%.

So I reached for my calculator again, commenting that I needed the calculator after all, because it was harder.

Then I caught myself again and put my head on my desk and laughed until tears rolled down my face, because I? am not bright.

Well bless my soul!

No idea where the Southern is coming from today, but I've definitely had a yankerin' for some Southern sayin's.

Anyway, the small update for today is that a four day weekend packed with sleeping until 11 or so everyday has definitely restored some of my spirit. And something unexpected happened this weekend: I got a high on the CBEFM. I'd begun to despair of it, as I'd had ewcm and a high cervix but no change on the monitor. I had hoped I might go straight to peak - I know the first cycle can be off as it adjusts to you, and the fact that I am ovulating quite late doesn't help the situation. So it was exciting to see it.

And then lo! A positive opk yesterday! Good thing we went to buy more.

And then lo again! A peak. A Peak! Three filled levels and what my husband referred to as an olive in some confusion! And another positive opk today!

(to spare you, I won't discuss the copious amounts either ewcm or sex that have been occurring)

So. Apparently, things are functioning ok, if late. I even had 2 highs preceding the peak reading. And the opk's back it up, and the ov pain is another little supportive piece.

Presumably, a high temp will show up tomorrow or the next day and then the slow trip to crazy-town begins again. What is different for the moment - and I can guarantee in my best Cajun accent it won't last long - is I feel a bit of optimism.

Bets on how long it lasts? I give it until Saturday, myself.