That's right. The universe has not lost its sense of humor. Remember all the fussing and fuming of 16 days ago? Remember the decision to "not try" this month? Well, I'd backed down on that decision. I thought, heck, I'm on the Clomid, we might as well make use of it. Or at least not prevent it. I wasn't doing OPKs or checking for certain icky bodily fluids or any such thing, so I really have no clue when I ovulated. But it doesn't really matter. (Here's where the sense of humor kicks in) The "trying" that occurred on CD13 left me with a urinary tract infection which has made any targeted "trying" on the key CD14-17 impossible. Til today, CD18. So unless we had a really early or really late egg, I don't have to waste my energy worrying about it this month. Huzzah. Let's hear it for the death of the 2ww. Or the postponement, at least.
And don't start stuffing my head with nonsense like, "well, sperm can live inside the body for up to two days, so there's a chance it might have worked anyhow." I know at least what continents you all live on, I will find you, and I will club you.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christmas Eve
First of all,
My dear party of 7 at table 83,
Thank you for the $30 tip. Thank you for being generous to me. Thank you for forgiving me for the less than standard service I feel I gave you. Thank you for understanding that there was a larger picture at work that made my job difficult that night. Thank you for not making me tell you why. The money itself is very helpful this time of year, but more than that, thank you for reminding me of something crucial: We don't always get what we deserve. It's very easy to recognize the times that injustices have been committed against us. We rail. We complain. We gripe. But there are so many times that injustice works in our favor, and I forget that sometimes. "I do not deserve the bad things that happen to me, but by gum, I deserve the good things." Really? It's Christmas time, and now more than ever, I remember that some 2000 years ago we got precisely what we did not deserve.
Your server.
More later. Dinner's ready...
My dear party of 7 at table 83,
Thank you for the $30 tip. Thank you for being generous to me. Thank you for forgiving me for the less than standard service I feel I gave you. Thank you for understanding that there was a larger picture at work that made my job difficult that night. Thank you for not making me tell you why. The money itself is very helpful this time of year, but more than that, thank you for reminding me of something crucial: We don't always get what we deserve. It's very easy to recognize the times that injustices have been committed against us. We rail. We complain. We gripe. But there are so many times that injustice works in our favor, and I forget that sometimes. "I do not deserve the bad things that happen to me, but by gum, I deserve the good things." Really? It's Christmas time, and now more than ever, I remember that some 2000 years ago we got precisely what we did not deserve.
Your server.
More later. Dinner's ready...
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tripping
I tell you what, Clomid is a wacky trip. The first month I was on it, I had the pleasure of enjoying many of the side effects the pamphlets warned about. Hot flashes, visual disturbances, dizziness, vertigo (yes they're different), insomnia, headaches, etc etc. The second month wasn't too bad at all. This one, after a month long respite, has brought with it all the excitement of the first month, PLUS *drumroll* hallucinations! I'm not sure hallucinations are a common side effect of the drug, but the paperwork is right upstairs and I'll go look at it soon. Til then I will say it was WEIRD and partially responsible for me getting a mere 2 hours of sleep last night. Every time I shut my eyes, the vertigo would set in like mad, followed by what I can only describe as a sensory hallucination. At first, it just felt like something huge was pressing me from the side - and by huge, I mean huge and spherical almost. Then, after a while, it started to feel like my arms and legs were huge, or at least surrounded by something huge, and incredibly heavy. So for a couple hours I was spinning through space in a huge and heavy rubber suit. Almost.
No, I've never taken a "drug". I'm aware that marijuana is a leaf, and I gather from the jokes that cocaine looks like powdered sugar. I couldn't really venture a guess about what the rest might even look like. But I know what a trip is like now.
The rest of the reason for no sleep is a small child who threw up 3 times overnight, and woke up shrieking several other times that he thought he was going to throw up. Poor kid. He's better now and keeping food down for the moment.
What concerns me at present is that this is the third week in a row we've gotten him from his mother and he's had stomach problems. Is he re-infecting himself somehow? Is it just three weeks of bad luck at his preschool? Some sort of food allergy like glutens or something? That one doesn't seem likely. But I wonder.
I have other things to say, but I'll stop back later tonight or tomorrow or something. Must go food shopping.
No, I've never taken a "drug". I'm aware that marijuana is a leaf, and I gather from the jokes that cocaine looks like powdered sugar. I couldn't really venture a guess about what the rest might even look like. But I know what a trip is like now.
The rest of the reason for no sleep is a small child who threw up 3 times overnight, and woke up shrieking several other times that he thought he was going to throw up. Poor kid. He's better now and keeping food down for the moment.
What concerns me at present is that this is the third week in a row we've gotten him from his mother and he's had stomach problems. Is he re-infecting himself somehow? Is it just three weeks of bad luck at his preschool? Some sort of food allergy like glutens or something? That one doesn't seem likely. But I wonder.
I have other things to say, but I'll stop back later tonight or tomorrow or something. Must go food shopping.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Bobbing
I think I'm starting to bob to the surface. *sigh* Talked to the doc. We're going back on the Clomid this cycle, though I'm not counting days, taking OPKs or any such thing. Christmas day is CD13, and that's all I need to know. I don't have to wonder, count, plan, etc. I can expect the cycle to end somewhere around Jan 12-14. No counting. No thinking. No countdowns. No wondering. I can have wine on Christmas Eve, Port on Christmas Day, Champagne on New Years. Huzzah hooray.
I didn't want an August baby anyhow. Ruins too many plans ya know.
So anyhow.
I haven't had much I wanted to say to my tables lately, oddly enough. They've been pretty run of the mill.
Has anyone seen Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares? Gold.
Still have a little Christmas shopping to do and an absolute bucketload of Christmas sewing to do. Heaven help me. We all went shopping yesterday afternoon as a family and had a great time. The kids did a good job shopping for each other. They remembered to think of their sibling and not themselves. Big step. We were very proud of them.
I have one more thing to buy the hubby. Pretty excited about it.
Hum.
I didn't want an August baby anyhow. Ruins too many plans ya know.
So anyhow.
I haven't had much I wanted to say to my tables lately, oddly enough. They've been pretty run of the mill.
Has anyone seen Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares? Gold.
Still have a little Christmas shopping to do and an absolute bucketload of Christmas sewing to do. Heaven help me. We all went shopping yesterday afternoon as a family and had a great time. The kids did a good job shopping for each other. They remembered to think of their sibling and not themselves. Big step. We were very proud of them.
I have one more thing to buy the hubby. Pretty excited about it.
Hum.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Hope drips
It's an interesting thing, watching hope drip out of your body. Oddly poetic that it should drip (sorry to be gross) into the toilet, no? It's just rife with poetic justice that this very stuff started in my heart and travelled through my body to form a nest in my womb. And it's not needed. Again. And so I flush it away.
I've been a headcase for the last day and a half and I'm not sure why. I still half-insane-hormonal. Everything makes me want to cry. Is it just because the "want" was in every cell of me, and so the disappointment is then in every cell of me? I don't think that's it. It feels more chemical than that. But I've never had emotions like this with PMS.
Nevertheless, it's CD1 again. It's the only day I will count this time I think. I need a break. I need to know going in that it won't work, and I need to have chosen it, and I need a month where I don't wonder every day of it, stronger and stronger through the last days of it, if "this" is the time.
Tomorrow maybe, or maybe the day after tomorrow, I will find my bootstraps and wrap them around my hands and pull myself up again. But tonight, I plan to lay in the dark, stare at the wall, tell my God that I'm not angry and that I love Him, ask for help loving my family tomorrow, ask that I might not dream tonight, and then just go to sleep.
Everything's gonna be all right... rockabye.
I've been a headcase for the last day and a half and I'm not sure why. I still half-insane-hormonal. Everything makes me want to cry. Is it just because the "want" was in every cell of me, and so the disappointment is then in every cell of me? I don't think that's it. It feels more chemical than that. But I've never had emotions like this with PMS.
Nevertheless, it's CD1 again. It's the only day I will count this time I think. I need a break. I need to know going in that it won't work, and I need to have chosen it, and I need a month where I don't wonder every day of it, stronger and stronger through the last days of it, if "this" is the time.
Tomorrow maybe, or maybe the day after tomorrow, I will find my bootstraps and wrap them around my hands and pull myself up again. But tonight, I plan to lay in the dark, stare at the wall, tell my God that I'm not angry and that I love Him, ask for help loving my family tomorrow, ask that I might not dream tonight, and then just go to sleep.
Everything's gonna be all right... rockabye.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Heads popping off
To absolute hell with all the profundity. My head's about to come off. I'm an absolute mess. Let's just say that hormones of some sort are having a hay-day with my head and I've been crying for the last hour or so. That, after being rather impatient with my stepkids and distinctly uncharitable towards my husband. Who the bleeping hell has taken over my body???
If I'm not pregnant this time, I think I might want to take next month off. No meds, no tracking, no sex week 2. I cannot handle this again. I'm totally drained. It sucks and I'm upset and if you asked me today (which you haven't, but I'm going to tell you anyway), I'd say that I'd rather know going in that it's just a puddle of blood that's going to show up at the end of the month, and not have to bother wondering about it.
No, nothing has shown up yet. But I'm a flaming mess. I hate this. I'm not a happy camper. Is there any other way to say it? I think you've caught my drift.
If I'm not pregnant this time, I think I might want to take next month off. No meds, no tracking, no sex week 2. I cannot handle this again. I'm totally drained. It sucks and I'm upset and if you asked me today (which you haven't, but I'm going to tell you anyway), I'd say that I'd rather know going in that it's just a puddle of blood that's going to show up at the end of the month, and not have to bother wondering about it.
No, nothing has shown up yet. But I'm a flaming mess. I hate this. I'm not a happy camper. Is there any other way to say it? I think you've caught my drift.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Don't say that, that's yogurt
My stepson says the most amusing things, every. single. day. I just rarely remember them. This one I texted from my phone to my email address to be sure I didn't forget it. We were in the middle of redefining the word "interminable" (read: elementary school band and choir concert) on a set of bleachers with probably the narrowest seats in the world (no joke. no, it's not my expanding butt that makes me say that, either, so knock off the snickering) and he was sitting on my lap. I leaned over and said to my husband, "My butt hurts." The tot heard me say it, and turning to me, said quite seriously, "Don't say that, that's yogurt." "That's what?" his daddy asked him. "Yo-gur" was the clearer response. "Vulgar?" daddy said. "*sigh* Yes, daddy, that word is yogur and you should not say it."
He's four. His vocabulary is astonishing. His minor speech impediments are phenomenal.
We've made it safely through CD28. I'm nursing these last few days of hope like they're the last sips from an awesome bottle of wine. I'm starting to stress. A bit. I think I might be. I think it's possible. Unlike last time, when I knew I wasn't. The biggie? The girls. Literally. I'm a porn star guys. Or could be. (No, there are no video cameras anywhere in the house or yard or car...) I'm also a little afraid. I don't relish the thought of being knocked back on my a** (yes, self-censorship. there may be innocent eyes reading this). Again. I can sit with my legs crossed or stand on my head all I want. But if it worked, it worked already. And if it didn't, there's nothing I can do today.
I think that's a big part of this. I'm really learning the meaning of the word "frustration". Frustration is not beating the daylights out of a fussy printer when it eats yet another page. Frustration is not stubbing your toe. Frustration is beating your fists uselessly against biology, which gives no excuses for itself, no reasons for its rebellion, and no comforting promises. I know Fear stands at the doorway to all good adventures, but as I approach Fear again, I don't know if it will open the door to a brand new life, or just another antechamber.
I hope this fast I'm in will help me cope. I'm struggling with it (the fast), but that's the point, I think. Sure, you can run a mile, but can you run a mile with 10-lb weights strapped to your ankles? Sure, you're a nice person, but can you be a nice person when you're a little hungry? It can be pretty hard to do. Believe me, I know. I'm a waitress. I've seen what a piece of bread can do to someone's mood. Now I'm on the other side. But, alternatively, I am noticing my shortcomings, and I am actually motivated to do something about them. I've been fasting for... um... 10 days? (you tell me, how long ago was the 6 day mark?) and I'm falling back in love with it. I'm looking forward to the feasting of Christmas, believe you me. But there is something wonderful and bright here... in the waiting.
Oh wait. The waiting. :) Hm.
He's four. His vocabulary is astonishing. His minor speech impediments are phenomenal.
We've made it safely through CD28. I'm nursing these last few days of hope like they're the last sips from an awesome bottle of wine. I'm starting to stress. A bit. I think I might be. I think it's possible. Unlike last time, when I knew I wasn't. The biggie? The girls. Literally. I'm a porn star guys. Or could be. (No, there are no video cameras anywhere in the house or yard or car...) I'm also a little afraid. I don't relish the thought of being knocked back on my a** (yes, self-censorship. there may be innocent eyes reading this). Again. I can sit with my legs crossed or stand on my head all I want. But if it worked, it worked already. And if it didn't, there's nothing I can do today.
I think that's a big part of this. I'm really learning the meaning of the word "frustration". Frustration is not beating the daylights out of a fussy printer when it eats yet another page. Frustration is not stubbing your toe. Frustration is beating your fists uselessly against biology, which gives no excuses for itself, no reasons for its rebellion, and no comforting promises. I know Fear stands at the doorway to all good adventures, but as I approach Fear again, I don't know if it will open the door to a brand new life, or just another antechamber.
I hope this fast I'm in will help me cope. I'm struggling with it (the fast), but that's the point, I think. Sure, you can run a mile, but can you run a mile with 10-lb weights strapped to your ankles? Sure, you're a nice person, but can you be a nice person when you're a little hungry? It can be pretty hard to do. Believe me, I know. I'm a waitress. I've seen what a piece of bread can do to someone's mood. Now I'm on the other side. But, alternatively, I am noticing my shortcomings, and I am actually motivated to do something about them. I've been fasting for... um... 10 days? (you tell me, how long ago was the 6 day mark?) and I'm falling back in love with it. I'm looking forward to the feasting of Christmas, believe you me. But there is something wonderful and bright here... in the waiting.
Oh wait. The waiting. :) Hm.
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