Table of One? Pity Party, Table of One?

Today, after our normal morning service at church, our priest performed a quick (or, quick for an Orthodox church; we tend to be long-winded lol) prayer for Hubster and I, complete with anointing us with oil.  This holy oil streams from an icon of  the Theotokos (Mary, mother of Christ) in Syria, that women travel from all over the world to this ikon to pray for fertility assistance.  (Even non-Orthodox women, including Muslim women go to venerate this icon)  It was very touching to Hubster and I to have Father J. take the time and utilize what I can only assume must be an expensive and precious item on us.

The bliss of the moment was snagged though when I realized that a couple in the church is pregnant with their first child.  Here’s the thing: in our parish, the majority of people are either older or younger than us.  Until today there was only one other couple who was our age and didn’t have kids. And now they are pregnant.  We are the last mid-20′s couple who do not have kids.  There are older couples who do not have children (one that I know of who was hit hard with infertility) and then there are single people our age… but we stand alone as the young-should-be-fertile-couple-without-kids.

Just the other night I admitteded to Hubster amidst tears that I fear that by the time we have kids, all the current children will be too old to play with them, so our kids will grow up in the church without friends their age.  It seems silly, but the vision of our children feeling alone and friendless at church breaks my heart.

Obviously, Hubster made the point that our church is rapidly growing, and the likelyhood of our kids being totally alone is rather unrealistic.

And the couple who announced their pregnancy today; I want to be happy for them, without also being sad for us.  I don’t know their story, they may have struggled for this pregnancy.  But there was something nice about some kind of solidarity of another childless couple.

I know that any children in our future is in God’s hands.  And for the most part that is very comforting.  To know that someone so much smarter and stronger than I has a plan.  I know I need to let the hurt and pain go. Being sad and bitter doesn’t get me anywhere.  I don’t like being sad and bitter.  But I can’t help feeling like every time I turn around everyone around me is getting pregnant.

But I may just nom down on a second bowl of peanut-butter-chocolate-ice-cream, and get to bed early, maybe cry a little…. and then go into work tomorrow and put this pity party behind me.

Grumpy Gus

I find myself back in the “waiting purgatory”. I’m waiting for insurance to kick in (March 1st). Waiting to get in and caught up on regular doctor stuff (establish a general practitioner, obgyn, dentist in March). Waiting to check in the fertility specialist (most likely April, after seeing the regular doctors and giving me a chance to figure out what will and wont be covered, which means we probably won’t be really ready to do anything fertility-attempting-wise until May). Waiting to lose weight (12 flingin’ flangin’ pounds to go!).

I’m sorry, but if you can’t still buy clothes in the regular departments, don’t whine about losing 10 lbs. as far as I’m concerned you fall into the “skinny bitch” category. When you have to buy clothes in the “women’s” section if the store, then you understand my pain. The last time I was in single digit pants was elementary school… Maybe junior high school. Definitely not in high school. I look at pictures of my size 13 self and think how skinny I looked! (of course compared to my size 0-6 friends I felt fat and ugly, but now I just think I looked normal.)

So I sit here and eat my zucchini-potatoe-cilantro soup (that probably would be tasty if I hadn’t cooked it wrong last night so now it tastes weird and kind of gross- don’t try to substitute olive oil with walnut oil when sautéing vegetables) and just hope I can check one of those “waiting” items off my list. When what I really want is a giant chunk of chocolate.

Diaries of a Blond Gurl…

Saturday evening, I took a bath. A lavender oatmeal bath. In my infinite wisdom, if a little oatmeal is good then a lot of oatmeal is better, right? So I added a scoop of oatmeal, and enjoyed my bath…

Sunday morning as I took a shower I noticed it was draining slowly, but kept swishing the grate with my foot every so often, assuming it was just residual oatmeal and lavender bits clogging it. However by the end of my shower it wasn’t draining…. Hubster looked at me and said “What does oatmeal do when wet? Expand!”

I just never thought it would go past the little grate!

So Sunday when we got home we bought some drain cleaner. It said to use 1/5 of the bottle…. After waiting 20 minutes without success we eventually added the entire bottle.

Monday came with no success in draining (maybe 1/4 of an inch?). So Hubster bought extra-strength-industrial-strength stuff. And promptly made the entire apartment REAK of chemical nastiness.

We have been leaving windows open and fans running because Its the only way to breath.

There was not much change to the tub. So today he went to the property management requesting a work order. They did the “ya, we’ll get around to it sometime this week…”.

Hubster bought a snake to try fix the problem himself, without success. He said either something REALLY solid was blocking the drain, or the snake wouldn’t make the necessary turn in the pipe. We have now spent over $20 in an attempt to gain our tub and shower back.

Out of desperation I washed my hair in the kitchen sink.

A few minutes ago he walked in, and told me the tub was fixed! He was using the toilet when he glanced over to realize…. The lever to close the drain was up. We are assuming that as I swished the water Sunday morning I must have knocked it. The solid thing he couldn’t snake past? The drain plug.

Upon lowering the lever the tub drained.

We have flushed a crap ton of hot water through the pipes, and are currently cleaning the tub.

Officially the most blonde moment I have ever had in my entire life.

I leave you with an adorable picture of Bloom, who discovered the spot on the bed that has the heating pad under the blankets:

All is well with the world (aka My addiction to my phone gets fed)

When Hubster came home today he had a new iPhone for me!!! What’s better than a new iPhone??? A FREE iPhone! Huzzah for insurance

I sadly lost a handful of videos and pictures, taken since the last time I synced my phone with my computer, but by and large everything was saved.
———–
Work went well. A little frantic, but all in all a standard busy Saturday. Plenty of interesting cases, but particularly one of the last cases of the day;
Two roommates were out, throwing a frisbee for their dogs. One dog went to nab the toy and accidentally chomped down on the other dog. In leu of rushing into the vet right away, they decide to quickly shave the area, clean with water and hydrogen peroxide (Why?? Why?! All hydrogen peroxide does is KILL TISSUE. Causing delayed heal time and scarring… Silly home remedies…) and then AND THEN, they look around and see fishing line and a needle. Hey, that’s just like the stuff they use in surgeries, right?
They proceed to stitch up their dog (completely awake) and THEN bring him in to us.

The whole story was so ridiculous, I just had to laugh. So stereotypically “two college age guys”. Luckily they happened to own a very laid back lab that put up with all that. We proceeded to clip more hair away, took out the fishing line (just a hint: that stuff isn’t exactly sterile) which was a bit of a project since it is CLEAR. Cleaned up the sites, then applied a local anesthetic (Marcaine to the rescue!) and then sterilely closed the sites. And then gave them a bunch of antibiotics to deal with all the germs from the dogs mouth, their hands touching, the fishing line etc etc…. Nice guys, just one of those things you shake your head and laugh and say “they did WHAT?!?!“
————
I came home, watched the latest episode of the Vampire Diaries, put my new phone in order, then took a lavender oatmeal bath complete with candles and opera playing on my phone (thank you pandora!) and now I’m chilling in lingerie waiting for Hubster to get his tushy in bed so we can partake in some lighthearted attempts at pregnancy.

Not really expecting anything, but hey, it can’t hurt anything? Right?

Maybe not to opera music though….

Of technology and other bits.

Tuesday night the unthinkable happened.

My iPhone stopped charging.  My phone is now (more or less) dead.  No phone calls, no texting, no plants vs. zombies.  No facebook, internet or blogging.

Today was the first chance I really had to deal with it, Veri.zon sent me to the Ap.ple store.  The Ap.ple store was booked, and had to make an appointment for tomorrow.

You guys, the pathetic thing is (well, there is a lot of patheticness in my relience on a single device…) that we do not own a normal alarm clock.  Nowhere in our apartment is an alarm clock.  Which means the last few days I have relied on Hubster to get me up on time.

I miss my phone.  I miss it playing my white-noise app, or my “sleep” mix, to help me sleep at night.  I miss plugging it in and jamming to my iT.unes on the way to work.  I miss being able to text people.

I feel like some woman in the 20′s, bereft, flung across a swooning couch (thos funny couches with only one arm)

 

In other news I also spent most of my day helping a friend shop for her wedding dress.  *SQUEEEEE*  She’s not a girly girl, at all.  The idea of dress shopping was making her nauseous.  She’s eloping in May in South Carolina.  She planned on a light, slowing, easy dress.  What did she love the most?  A dramatic mermaid silhouette with lace and beading and rouching… so we go again next week.  I loved every minute of it (except the minutes of dealing with a snootie custer-service person who didn’t even know what a french bustle was….) and am excited to really feel like I have an honest-to-goodness-friend from work, who I hang out with outside of work.

 

And finally, in baby news: My insurance kicks in March 1st.  From what I can tell it’s actually a pretty good plan (I even get acupuncture covered!) so my plan is to make an appointment and get a general physical with a doctor, an annual pap smear with an OBGYN, and a cleaning with a dentist.  (It’s been about 3 years since I’ve seen a general practitioner, about a year and a half since a regular OBGYN adn about 5 years since I’ve seen a dentist…. don’t look at me like that!  I just never had the time, until after we didn’t have insurance anymore lol)  Then I will call up the fertility specialist in Seattle and get back into the swing of things.  In the mean time I’ve been trying to actually get back into the habit of charting a BBT (since the death of my phone, I haven’t done that, but Hubster waking me up means I don’t get up at my normal time to take said temperature) and I figure we can have some good ol’ fashioned sex, give this “getting pregnant” thing the good-ol’-college-try (even though I doubt anything will happen, it can’t hurt to try, right?)

I feel like I’m surrounded by people who are either pregnant, have children, or are pregnant AND have children, so I can feel some baby-less-depression pushing in on me.  Doing my best to brush it off.  It was easier when I knew we couldn’t really be trying, but it’s getting tougher now…

On that note I’m super tired and have to work tomorrow.  Quick shower and then bed!

Kitty Time!

At the request of Alex, below are some pictures of the kitties!  Enjoy

Rocco, when he was just a teeny tiny little guy!

Rocco, checking out my laptop.  What kind of blog would he write….?

Rocco, looking more like an adult then a kitten, chilling on the bed.  (That for once is actually made!)

(And yes, that is a gun in the background.  And yes, both my husband and I know how to use it.  Beware the person who tries to break and enter our residence.  You will be met with an attack cat and firepower.)

Rocco hiding in a leftover firewood box.  He’s super stealth-like.  I assume he’s practicing so he can be the most effective attack-cat that he can be.  (He actually is ALWAYS at the door when we come home.  It’s amazing.  If anyone can find a cat-sized spiked collar, he definitely would rock one haha)

And here is Spe.cial Ag.ent Eun.ice Blo.om.  Or Bloom for short.  This photo was taken when I brought her home the night after her surgery to amputate her left hind limb.  She was just supposed to come home for one night so I could observer her after surgery,  That was my first mistake apparently.

Saturday morning, she was particularly feisty, and attacked Rocco’s “kickeroo” toy.  Rocco was apparently feeling left out.

Rocoo pouting…..

The impressive thing is that I didn’t think this would be a toy she would get into.  Since she only has ONE back leg and all.  And the way it is designed they are supposed to “hug” it with their front limbs while kicking it with their hind legs.  It’s stuffed with catnip…. and pretty much the COOLEST cat toy ever.  According to BOTH my cats apparently.

Since bring home Bloom, Rocco has become more of an attention slut (I guess she brought out his insecurities, or his competitive side?)  Bloom enjoys it when you come up and rub her chin and around her ears, but she tends to like hiding out instead of seeking us out.  I assume this is in part her acclimation to being a tri-pod.  She does get up and get around fairly well, although she doesn’t jump up on the bed or anything yet.

Saturday we removed the staples from the amputation-site-closure, and the sutures that were at her spay site.  I hope she just continues to improve and become acclimated. And I look forward to when her fur comes back in and I can show you a picture of a three-legged-cat that doesn’t look like it’s half-alien!

Today was T-Day

Hubster and I went down to Planned Pa.renthood so he could take the HIV test this morning. He went in the back and had a mouth swab taken. He came back up front and we waited 20 minutes. Bada bing bada boom:

HUBSTER IS CLEAN!!!

So between THAT good news and my cycle day 1 showing up on Tuesday, we celebrated with coffee at Sta.rbucks, then ended with picking up a new thermometer so I can start tracking my BBT.

Now to do my best to keep the baby crazies at bay…

Highs and Lows

So I felt I needed to update you guys on my general life. But I’m totally wiped, so I’m going to take a page out of Mo’s (from Mommy Odyssey) book blog. Which means bullet points!

-last week we had a particularly heartbreaking case. 8 month old kitten brought in for a broken leg. It had never had vaccines, been dewormed… Never been to a vet’s office. The little girl was clearly neglected, although I don’t know if the owners were ignorant or truly just bad people, it wasn’t clear. What WAS clear, was that they didn’t have the necessary funds for the radiographs, let alone money for the surgery. I also got the impression that even if they DID have money, they did not believe in spending money on their pets. (I will never understand people who come in with just enough money for the exam and want all treatment and medications for free, as if they are included in the exam cost!!!!) The owner offered to suffocate the cat, or cut the leg off himself at home. Uh…. Ya, not going to let that happen! After an hour of dealing with the manipulative man, his hysterically crying little girl and emotionally distant wife over the phone, the doctor and I were able to convince them to relinquish the kitten to the clinic.

-the doctor decided after xrays that amputation was the best option, and performed the surgery. A receptionist in our clinic expressed an interest in the kitty but was not there the day of surgery. It was decided that after such a major surgery the cat needed to go home with a technician to be observed overnight and I was volunteered. I took the kitty overnight, expecting to take it back in the next day and give it to the receptionist.

-went in the next day, and between the fact that I had been the one to “save the cat” and some personal decisions the receptionist had made, the kitty was mine. Hmmmm…. Didn’t see that coming! But I felt very bonded to the little gal do didn’t fight too hard, I have to admit. But since I hadn’t planned on bringing home a kitty (that would need o going meds and care) I was supposed to be out of town for 2 days, so left her at the clinic over my weekend. I brought her home tonight, and I WUV HER!!!!

-what did I do out of town? I drove an hour to celebrate my friend Jewel’s “decrepitude party” aka 27th birthday. Karaoke and much drinking was involved (thus I spent the night, trying to be safe and all that). I absolutely adore spending time with Jewel, and her circle of friends are endlessly witty and make great, silly, and smart conversation. The following day I got up and helped her move… So needless to say I feel like I need a weekend from my weekend but it was great fun, Hubster got to meet a lot of Jewels’ friends that I have often talked about, and it was really great to just be out and have a bit of craziness.

-in case you wanted to know, I ROCKED “Gun.powder and Le.ad” by Miran.da Lam.bert and then sang “Chro.me” by Tr.ace Ad.kins with Jewel. Consider me the next great karaoke diva

Cycles. And I don’t mean bicycles.

I woke up this morning and glanced at the calendar.  And then I looked again.  Why?  Because I’m on cycle day 26.  For most women, this would be well within the realm of normalcy.  But I tend to have cycles lasting 21-24 days.  Not the “average” of 26 to 28.  At first there is that spark in the back of my brain “Maybe I’m pregnant!”  … but then I remember that would be basically impossible, since the only sex we’ve had has been with protection, as we have still yet to get Hubster in for his HIV test.  And as far as I can imagine, a broken condom would have been fairly obvious.  But I can’t help but run down the “pregnancy checklist”…. which is pretty close to the “PMS checklist”.  Moody and craving chocolate?  Yes. (But not as moody as I usually am before my period either)  Frequent urination, breast tenderness, excessive tiredness? Nope.

And let’s not forget that the irony behind a woman getting pregnant “on accident” after over 2 years of unsuccessful attempts/fertility assistance is so grossly large, I don’t know what I would do with myself except feel like a total loser, imposter, fake and fraud of infertility.

So no, I won’t POAS.  I’m sure I have some HPTs, in the back of the cabinet under the sink, but I’m not wasting my time, emotions or sanity on them.

All that it comes down to is that now, my body (while within the length of the average woman’s normal cycle, but NOT mine) is a week late.  My body is up to new shenanigans.  I’m not sure if it’s doing this to screw with me; if I should take it that by lasting longer it’s a good sign that maybe my body is becoming magically fertile, or if I should take it as a bad sign that my body is getting more messed up then ever and that my biological clock is in it’s final wind-down death-throes stage.

Please, Hubster get your booty into that stupid office so you can take the stupid blood test so we can get back into stupid fertility treatments so I can figure out what’s going on with my stupid body!

Or maybe my period can just start later today making this entire post and insanity-filled-inner-dialogue moot.

Stupid things I say

One of the consequences of infertility is that we learn to get personal. We regularly discuss everything from frequency of sex to cervical fluid. We don’t hesitate to think that all manner of bodily functions are not “appropriate” to share.

Case on point:

Today my coworkers were having a discussion of tampons (o.b. vs. applicator types) and the hilarity of when the tampons aren’t quite in correctly and you walk around funny… So because I couldn’t use tampons until I was an adult due to them being incredibly uncomfortable (and perhaps I was also just very unaware of my body?) I chipped in “ya, I couldn’t use tampons until after I had sex a few times.”

Laughter dies, and one of my coworkers exclaims “wow, way to make the conversation totally awkward! Yuck!”

…

Needless to say, I turned bright red and stammered a bit before walking away.

On one hand, maybe that was a bit of an over-share. But on the other hand, we are a group of women, in the medical field. So, really??? Was it so inappropriate? And was it really necessary to make me feel like such a loser?

I’m vacillating between total humiliation (how do I face her tomorrow???) and just being pissed at her childishness (what the hell is wrong with HER?)

And the real kicker is she has probably totally forgotten about it and moved on like a normal person.

Hoping that be throwing this out to the blogosphere it won’t keep me up tonight obsessing over it.