Wednesday, December 4, 2013

211 In Progress

I have had three close people break the news that they are pregnant in the last two months in my life and so I want to share how that really feels all personal unsugarcoated and blog like.

No matter how you spin it, it always feels the same. Nothing can "sudden the blow" or give you "time to think" about it once it's here.  No matter which way it unfolds the reality is that you are still infertile.  No email to butter you up will make you feel better about your on going struggle. No phone call explaining what you already know that "you don't deserve this." It is still there floating around all depressingly awkward and shit. Never going away just always surrounding you like a thick fog where you can't see more than five feet in front of you. 

I believe infertility was sent to rob me of everything and anyone pregnancy related.  I just want you all to know I am not the one holding the gun.  I don't know what is the right way to tell someone like me that you are pregnant.  I think I already covered how via a text was a horrible idea but honestly after two emails from two important women in my life I feel like infertility just cleaned out the safe.  Why should anyone in a great relationship and place in life feel bad for becoming pregnant when they are completely ready?  I hate that close people in my life feel that they cannot tell me in person.  It isn't their fault at all that they have a nicer uterus than me sans endo that gets pregnant when they want. I completely understand that they are just doing what they feel is best when it comes to announcing.  I wouldn't wish infertility on any enemy and I couldn't be more happy for them.  Point. Period. Blank. This struggle already robs us of so much as a person and a couple, I at least want the choice to share such life changing news with close family in person.  I promise I won't be stabbing anyone if I take it badly. Just buy me a cupcake before hand. And some wine. And maybe pasta.  Yep, better get the pasta. Hell, I'm not the one that's going to be buying diapers and staying up all night with a crying teething baby. I'm just again the infertile Aunt/friend spoiling your brat while holding him or her for hours and handing them off once they start to cry or need a butt change.  Sounds about right.  But really, to the ones who I am referring to I love all of you.  I hate this for all of us.  I am really truly happy for all of you pregnant bitches don't let me and my busted private parts get placed on the outside looking in.  Just keep the whining about nausea and how tired you are to yourself or each other. Lol. I might have to cut you then. 

And that's the thing. I am so happy for you but just pissed off and sad for us.  Believe me when I say it isn't anyone's fault except infertility itself.  Everyone is doing what they think is best and I appreciate that 100% but at the same time I feel like I deserve some more credit. I've spent multiple deployments away from my husband while dealing with IF and life's ups and downs alone so believe me I can handle anything at this point.  Out of all the emails I get annoucing another baby to be they all start out and finish the exact same way. Typically a "I am so sorry to write this" or a "I've been dreading writing this for the longest time."  I already know without even opening the email to place that one in the you're still not pregnant inbox until I'm having a good day; aka down a bottle of Moscato. It is what it is and I know there isn't a guidebook with all the answers and so what works for one person might be completely wrong for another. I just know me and how it makes me feel to be robbed by infertility and robbed of getting a choice to be happy or sad to share such great news in a honest and personal way.  What does everyone else think?? If someone super close falls preggers do you want to hear it via phone, email or in person???

At the end of the day I am at the end of this road. White flag in hand. Ready to give that bastard a wave at any moments notice. I feel like I am failing now at faking an orgasm for over 6 years and the smile on my face is starting to hurt.  Like an old actress with to much Botox.  The past few months have been the worst so far and our big move to Missouri couldn't come fast enough.  It's impossible to fake it or "choose" to be happy like I keep seeing year after year from people who would crumble over a bad week twice in the same month. I spent 13 months away from my husband on one deployment I know what "choosing" to be happy is.  Yes I believe you can choose whatever the hell you want but that doesn't mean you will be happy every damn day especially when every month is a failure.  A person can only take so much.  I am human not a robot.  However I am up for exchanging out a few organs, heart and brain, for robotic parts if anyone knows a good doctor.   Speaking of brains. Insert last weeks blog about turning 34 this Saturday when I am only 32.  Totally blaming my memory loss as a side effect from fertility drugs. My bad. Or is it my good? We will go with good since my period is starting again this weekend for the 72nd time. So pumped my 33 year old ovaries can hardly wait. 

Infertility 72
Rachel 0

I will be trying to force myself to not set all our Christmas decor on fire this weekend once I drag them out of the attic possibly. But I am not saying that will not happen. There are no guarantees in crazy town folks.

Monday, November 25, 2013

You Can't Sit With Us Christmas

Deck the halls with boughs of holly Fa la la la la blah blah blah blahhhhh......

This is me apologizing in advance for my bitter post. 
I know what you're thinking. "Did your Santa eat too much Taco Bell on Christmas Eve?"
Nope. This is my Santa karma for being such a bitter grinchole.

Its actually funnier the longer you stare at it.  But seriously, I have asked this man six years now for the same thing and he has come up short. I am starting to think this guy is as real as my dream last night winning the lottery and affording IVF along with adoption at the same time. Boy was that a depressing wake up this morning when I realized I was still infertile and my insurance thinks my endo is an "elective" procedure to cure. 

So why does Christmas feel like its ripping out my uterus and putting it on display for all the world to see? Well, for starters, Christmas is a holiday about the birth of a baby, virgin birth of all things, go figure. Lets not forget that everything about Christmas revolves around children and is celebrated with family.  If you just found out you're baking a bun in the oven, recently delivered that bun or have a basket of buns then you and I are polar opposites when it comes to seeing Santa in the mall and wanting to tackle him and set his fake cardboard North Pole house on fire.

In short, this post will be confusing for you.

In reality next to Mothers Day, Christmas is almost equally dreadful to infertile broads alike.  Don't get me wrong. I have always loved Christmas. I am the girl who puts the tree(s) up after Halloween. I have always had my nieces and nephews for the past six years to fill the depressing childless void. But for some reason this year I can't even force myself to "get over myself". I try to block out the negativity that creeps up in my brain everyday but it is impossible lately. I can't fake it.  I am the eggless outcast.  I turn on the tv and its Black Friday this or Santa Claus that.  I am however enjoying the Kmart commercials with the studs jingling their "balls" to the tune of Jingle Bells or the I "shipped my pants" debacle.  In short the holidays+my birthday+6 years of infertility= a shit show.

I have some ideas on how to pull yourself out the downward spiral of crazy

Make it a double.  That one right there folks is my number one solution.  I like having enough adult beverages where it puts me right in between happy and numb. If you go too far you end up calling friends at 2am bawling your eyes out screaming how life isn't fair and you wake up the next morning feeling like a one night stand.  For the record I would like to state that I am not an alcoholic and I do not need A&E showing up at my house faking a meeting//pours third glass of Moscato.

Honestly I am trying to focus on the true meaning and spirit of Christmas only while counting down the day to my sister's annual New Years Eve bash in PA with my husband.  Between now and then that is the only thing I am looking forward too. Totally skipping over my 33rd birthday in 2 weeks. Cue the realization of why the holidays are even harder this year. If one more person tells me I am still young I will not say that I will not be able to punch them in the throat. Especially if you have a kid(s) and are UNDER 33.

Committing RAOK(random acts of kindness) will likely lift your spirits or donating to a child or family in need. Like "oh hey," the Philippines that just got washed off the map. I am sure your Christmas tragedy of my 50th gift will not arrive in time for my kid will be ok when Matapang Santos is just asking for clean water.

I am doing all my Christmas shopping online to avoid any public melt downs. But really because people are annoying and their spoiled, ungrateful kids they have created are brats.  Plus drinking and driving is frowned upon for some reason.  Weird.

Christmas will be spent at my mother in laws in Myrtle Beach this year.  I will be spending hours in her hot tub with an adult beverage in one hand and homemade chocolate peanut butter balls in the other. Along with a slew of a card game called Pitch that we play for hours at a time.  In all honesty if IVF costs and adoption were not a factor I would be sipping on a Mojito under a palm tree somewhere in Barbados. Not even realizing that it is December or that I should be making cookies for Santa or Reindeer food for Rudolph with my five year old.  Or the fact that I had a Lap surgery a few months ago and this is the prime time chance for me to fall pregnant. Hell, I can't even ovulate even on fertility drugs since my surgery. Thanks alot asshole. And by asshole I mean endometriosis. This must be my early birthday present.

Alcohol, avoidance, helping the needy and distraction. Those are my tips for surviving another infertile holiday. My husband is the funniest man I know so that's a given when it comes to making me feel better.

What are your feelings on the holidays? Please feel free to comment and share your ways of dealing below.

Meanwhile I will be writing another letter to Santa and it goes something like this...

With love and awesome advice,


Ps Did you get my other 5 letters?? If they got stuck in the mail and you receive all of them this year, I am open to receiving all back orders. If I don't hear from you please note that you are an ass.

PSS. Don't forget to laugh.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Infertility to me is....

It means I am constantly battling negative thoughts everyday. So far positives are winning this week. 

It makes me question how much physical damage my body will show after years of fertility drugs. 

Infertility makes me question every thing I put in my body week to week and whether it will hurt my chances by having that extra cup of coffee. I know this is ridiculous. It still crosses my mind.  

Infertility has made me lose all sense of modesty.

I feel like there is a constant ticking in my vagina. 

Infertility/TTC has it's own online language. "My OPK was positive so we BD after having CM on CD 14 and I am now in the 2WW hoping for a BFP."

It places awkward or avoided pregnancy announcements on us from friends and family and that hurts even more.

I no longer want a baby shower. 

I no longer want to celebrate my birthdays. Not for wrinkles but for another year older losing out on time with future children, grandchildren or great grandchildren. 

Infertility makes me look bitter and angry of responsible, married, fertile couples when I'm just bitter of irresponsible, unplanned teen moms. 

Infertility makes me angry at said responsible couples that complain about the costs or complaints of a new baby and what pregnancy brings. 

I feel like a failure as a wife. 

Why can't adoption be a simple fairy tale process like you see in the media. 

Screw you MTVs Teen Mom and TLCs I didn't know I was pregnant. 

No I do not want your bratty kids for the hundredth time. Go get some birth control pills and be done already. And stop complaining about them to me. 

Yes, what you just asked was stupid and you should be embarrassed. 

Fertile people will NEVER understand this struggle and that's ok. But don't act like you have the key to my eternal happiness. 

I sometimes regret sharing my infertility because of douche bag people and their tiny brains.  

Infertility is not a competition but I've seen it bring out the ugly competitors along this road. 

I don't want sympathy. I just want a baby.  

I don't want sympathy. I just want a baby. Yes that was on purpose. 

Infertility is a disease that is not covered by everyone's insurance but the same insurance covers boob jobs and tummy tucks. 

No I do not want to come to your baby shower. But if I do disregard the flask in my Vera Bradley. 

I will never "beat" infertility. I will just (hopefully)find a way around it. 
Infertility is hard on your relationship.

Infertility has brought me closer to my religion, my husband and some family. 

Infertility has also pushed people away.   

Infertility is not a funny April fools joke. 

The holidays and vacations get harder every year. Especially Christmas. 

Music is therapeutic. 

Infertility has opened a special place in my heart forever with adoptive parents and women that choose adoption over abortion. 

Adoption doesn't cure infertility. 

Infertility hasn't made me want to adopt. I've always had it in my heart. 

Knowing that Adoption is NOT for everyone. 

Forces a struggle in the bedroom of added pressure that just isn't there for fertile couples. 

I have a stronger bond with women I've never met in person than with some friends and family members. 

I am tired of hearing "your time is coming." 

I struggle with giving up month to month. 

Infertility has made me numb and irritated to dramatic sympathy driven people. 

Infertility makes me feel like a broken record every month. 

I will never die from infertility but my heart may forever be broken deep down. Only time will tell. 

Infertility gets harder every year. 

I don't need an explanation or someone to try and say the "right thing." Most of the time I just need a hug and a I'm sorry. 

I don't understand women that have been in my shoes that do the exact opposite of what hurt them while still struggling when finally pregnant. This hurts the most. 

Infertility has made me thankful for the beautiful supportive people I have in my life. 

Infertility and being a military spouse. Yuck. 

I can't wait to close this chapter in this book. 

I want to be a foster parent and adopt in my perfect dream world and get pregnant like everyone says will happen once I do adopt. Pftt. 

Infertility. I hate you. 

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Don't be an Idiot while drinking your juice in the hood

I don't even know where to begin. Do I drag out the last month in all its depressing glory or do I just skip over to this past week which includes a homecoming of epic emotional proportions???

My husband and I have suffered great losses both recently. Both while he was in Afghanistan.  I have been drained emotionally if your wondering where I have been. There wasn't any witty comebacks or funny gifs to erase or fill the sadness that not only I but also as a couple separated by distance experienced.  So in all honesty I did what most people do. I avoided. Avoid blogging. Avoid conversation. Avoid reality. Avoid a pity party for one.  Avoid healing. You see that's what happens when you don't talk about pain or loss among other things going on. Since the loss of our dear friend C and our golden retriever Max, I've been walking around with an open cut. Exposed without any medical attention.  Not even a splash of peroxide that you only use anyways just to watch it bubble in the first place. 

Now that D is back I can at least put a band-aid on this wound. Even though we haven't talked about both losses much besides talking about what we remember and the good times or memories it still feels absolutely better with him just being here. Big sigh of relief. More about that in another post and time.

Before I go all gung ho on y'all and start giving life lessons and being over critical on the idiots of the world lets just understand it's been a long seven months. Idiots are something I have zero time for. Especially now more than ever. When you loose someone or something so dear to your heart it puts everything in perspective and really opens your eyes to the world and how lucky you are to just be alive. It would be easier if all the idiots of the world could wear a scarlet I. 

This way I could just juke move out of the way and dive head first into the wine isle when I see one coming and my day would be one less idiot free. The wine would be an apparent bonus for the bitter infertile(heavy sarcasm). Our alcohol/wine at our Walmart is directly across from the infant department.  The irony of this is not lost on me. Facebook has already taken my feelings into account with the "hide from news feed" button. When really it should be called "hide the idiot", or "nobody cares" button.  Loosen up people, we haven't even made it to the good stuff.

What does she mean by idiots? Good question. Hold the Christmas card you might be in this category. I feel like all my blog posts up until this point are pretty clear on where I stand but as a free refresher course let me explain. 

Idiots are:

People who chronically complain about life publicly. If you are not in a wheelchair or going through chemo please respect the fact that you are not in a wheel chair or going through chemo. Save your repeated morning sickness and bad hair days for a journal. No one wants to hear that shit everyday. It's embarrassing to even read. By all means freedom of speech it up but please don't get offended or surprised when someone ignores your calls or blocks you from everything social media. And eventually their life. I know a very special friend that would give anything to have her husband and father to her baby back and seeing you cry about traffic or going to work makes my skin jump off of my body when I accidentally don't click to my own page in time. For you panty wads, I am not talking about the occasional flat tire(we all know that sucks) but simply those that just ruin life in general with their constant negativity. Kendrick Lamar says don't kill his vibe. I agree. 100%. 

People that are twerking in public. I remember when I was young and we did that at a club. You know the one with the dark lights where you couldn't see what the person really looked like until last call and then the lights came on and people scattered like the roaches they were. And you paid 10 bucks to get inside. Do they not have those anymore? The last thing I want to see while grabbing some frozen peas is your booty bouncing up and down because "that's my jam just came on." No mam. You are an idiot. This isn't the VMAs or BET awards and your name isn't Miley. Or is it???

I have a long list but that would take all day so I would also lastly include pushy parental advice givers or PP(parental police as I like to call them) but obviously I am missing part of that equation. Just note for future reference if I do become blessed with a stinky bundle of joy please don't push me over the edge with your opinions of cloth diapering(not doing that) or breast verses formula battle. I fully believe every child is different and yes while there should be guidelines for "idiots" I think people should mind their own business if the said stinky child is not being harmed or negatively affected. I'm not washing a poop filled diaper by hand and then putting it in my washer.  Sorry. Not for me.  If your stomach, nose, and patience can handle this then more power to ya sister. Mega props.  Point is just respect everyone's decisions to do things differently. Enough said idiots. Moving on. 

So I'm still not pregnant. Surprise, surprise. My husband got back from his 7 month deployment last week if you are just joining this dramafest.  And since we stopped at IUI number four in August it would be impossible.  With his baby that is.  It does happen people.   My Laparoscopy went pretty good as I already discussed earlier and I was on femera this cycle with no trigger shot this time. I had my typical date with the pleasure cam(transvaginal ultrasound for the fertiles) Monday.  It didn't look very promising with only one follicle which was a let down of sorts and surprising. I'm usually good at producing those nuggets like a champ on femera but my dose was apparently too low this time. So next month it's back to 5mg and hopefully more than one potential baby egg. I haven't been temping or opking. Just a lot of BDing and praying for a miracle(not counting that one follicle out yet). Now that D is back, even though he has, "make sure you're normal and don't go killing your wife or public class," and then his leave starts next week. I've been just spending my free time with him and alot of DVR. The Voice, Walking Dead, The First 48, Amazing Race, and alot  mostly ESPN. 

Has nothing to do with anything but I'm addicted to The Voice and I loath WF.

 Sorry blogging world. I will try to be more present and less Amber alertish. So for the real talk.
Before I share some amazing moments from last week I want to share again what I try to engulf myself with after years of this struggle.  I constantly get emails, comments, and questions of how I stay so strong or happy.  Believe me its not a cake walk dealing with an absent husband who isn't in the safest place on earth but I am no American hero.  You can be happy in this struggle. Never let IF become who you are or consume your identity. It has a tendency to soak us up like a sponge and drown out all our happiness. Wring that shit out girlfriend. Eventually we will find a way around or through to some sort of peace.  I know I did and it feels so good. Do not, I repeat, do not compare your beginning to someone else's middle or ending(stole that from online but it's oh so true).  You will make yourself miserable by doing just that. Go out and live life and relish in what you already have without comparing it to someone else. You are alive and you have so many things to be thankful for.  Our time of being tired and up all night is coming. Enough of the high horse pep talk but seriously I hate seeing people hurt from this on the regular.  It will always be there and yes there are ups and downs but try to make the ups happen more than the downs. I swear it is possible.   Meanwhile many prayers for hope, peace, happiness and BFPs darlings. 
Oh and many virtual hugs. I know you needed one. We all do. Till next time.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Douchebags and DIY

 "....let me tell ya bout' my best frienddd"

This is how my evening is going 5 days post Laparoscopy.  Why yes its been a pretty crappy day..or not so crappy you could say.

But first lets talk about this guy douchebag.....

Who walks around Walmart wearing a Hollister v-neck with arms smaller than mine, harassing women making derogatory comments. For example "small tits" to yours truly....this was after I saw him in the makeup isle trying on some lipstick  stalking other women.  This wasn't just a comment and a "ha ha ha I was kidding."  He actually had the nerve to turn around after I yelled to him asking a questionable but you better not be, "are you talking to me?!?" His reply was an asshole...without even a smile "yea..duh."  
Then my head exploded into outer space and I began chasing him like I just saw Mark Wahlberg shirtless walk by my isle.

Anyways my video on IG of him getting the third degree after a I take my job way too seriously but lovable security guard tracked him down along with small titsMcgee of course.  His running away(literally) and hiding for 30 minutes was no match for public shaming and my later witty comments. I gave him a clear lesson on googling my girl Jenna to rethink his judgement of tits when a female is wearing a sports bra..insert quick meme version of her YT video.

Lets just all be thankful my husband is in Afghanistan or other wise someone might have went to sleep in the bird seed isle, because we know no one shops there anyways(Chels). Moving on.  If you live in or around Jacksonville, NC and you happen to run your cart into him by accident don't be sorry.

Ok so I didn't get on here to blab about my daily freak encounters with the public at large. I could go on for days. I did however want to share with you what I have been doing in my spare time while not showering for days and recovering while trying to just go number two for starters. A little DIY for my craft loving friends. If you didn't know by now. I am craft whore. I love making things and doing those on a budget. 

Today I had some fun making this photo letter wall art of our last name and wanted to share my not so fancy but oh so lazy way.  I needed some practice since I will be making this for a friend as a wedding gift((spoiler alert)) and thought I might as well start on my own name first. So here we go.

Head to your local Hobby Lobby and buy all the letters you need for whatever word you're trying to create. These were $1.99 each and with the last name of cost me 16 bucks.  Orrr you can go online and download them for FREE here Leo Reynolds Collection!

Then take about 20 minutes deciding if you want to stagger or set them in a straight line...I finally went with straight.

You can buy all these frames for .97 cents each at Walmart like I did. Bringing the grand total for my project to $24.00. A whole lot cheaper than the $40-60 dollars I saw online. Or $8 if you download them for FREE above and can resist going full Charlie Sheen the moment you enter a Hobby Lobby. 

Proceed to trash the instructions and break the plastic pieces off the back...because you didn't read the instructions. That is completely ok, you will use the pieces later if you want.

The glass pops out of the front if you push on the top corner with a little bit of grace..I needed a lot of grace.

Get out your trusty glue gun..and begin gluing the frames together side by careful not to glue them to your carpet or in my case, pillowcase.

Do not let a photo op like this go to waste....oh Barry sanders.  I could just pop his wittle head off.

 After you are done gluing the sides...carefully flip your frames over and begin adding a hoarders amount of glue(around two sticks) to the back side and cracks.  Hopefully your frames are tight and it doesn't leak through. Mine didn't luckily.  Now you can also use those broken pieces for extra support. I am a glue gun freak. Kind of like a hair dresser with scissors. I. Just. Can't. Stop.

While the glue is drying begin taking more pictures of your needs brushed photogenic dog.

Seriously this guy.  Hims daddy misses hims tons.

Then try to snap a picture of your finished project while not disturbing the Queen.  No really she is Beyonce up in this motha'.

 These guys are wore out already and we haven't even hung it yet...lightweights.

Hijack any photo hanging spare parts you can find (I stole three) and glue them to the back of your frame.

 You can be professinal and grab a ruler and measure out your marks for your nails or you can be classy and use the toothpaste trick by applying a dab to a spot on the picture hangers and once you have it lined up on the wall eye balling it all the way, press it against and voila. Marks for your nails. Classy. Lazy but effective.

Begin patching all the holes in your wall after moving around your other frames to squeeze this one in is optional.

Then you have to drag a 10 gallon bucket of paint inside that the builders left on accident when you bought the house. Thank you builders. And begin covering said patches. Don't even bother moving the leather sofa or new pillows..just hope your extra careful and don't spill any. ((rolling eyes, heavy sarcasm))
After that's all done and the paint is dry, place your nails in the toothpaste marks and hang your beautiful artwork. Be careful she is not going to be super sturdy unless you go all gung ho and glue a couple paint sticks across the back(I did not).  But I thought about it.

Stand back and be completely amazed that you didn't spill, scratch, stain or break anything while re-hanging and aligning all the frames sans husband(or wife).  There may be a few nails having a party behind the couch when we move that are later discovered but for now we will pretend they aren't there. And just later blame the husband.

Thinking about taking these down to move in seven months makes my head hurt but for now I will "Enjoy the Ride."

P.S. Thank you everyone for your amazing and supportive comments the last few days with our new found answers.  I am not sure what the next month holds but I would guess it is alot of DIY and crafty blogging.  Hopefully minus the douchebags.  Hope everyone has fun with this project and you all have a great week and let us not forget when America was attacked 12 years ago today. 

9/11 "Where were you when the world stop turning...." RIP to all the innocent we lost that sad sad day. We will never forget. 

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Poker Face

Day 2 Post Lap
I've been staring at this blank iPad for a few days now.  I would blame it on the hydrocodone I've been prescribed for my procrastination but we all know I am using that as a crutch to skate by with avoiding a new blog post. It's not that I don't want to blog. I have been trying to wrap my brain around the news of my Laparoscopy results for a few days now. Its pretty hard when someone can't even poop for the third day in a row and now I have the world waiting in anticipation and wondering if I hold the key to my infertility. Wondering if this train wreck of a blog is ever going to end? Wondering if I will ever hashtag #pregnantproblems in the near future like I see once a week. Hell to the No on the latter.

Describe how you feel in one picture?

Ehh..yeaa pretty much sums it up.  Minus the platinum wig and future stint in rehab I'd say I'm batting a thousand at pulling this look off for the past few days.  I even have the same pain pill induced state of mind to justify why I haven't showered in three days.  Forget showering, I don't even have the decency to change clothes to pretend that I care when I flop myself out of bed to let my dogs out long enough to pee and let my neighbors see me in the same clothes from Day 1.

Once I reach Amanda status I try to shut it down and then continue to just drool on myself until I completely pass out. Again nothing accomplished. No riddle solved. No feelings hurt from saying too much.

Day 3 Post Lap
Lets see. What do I remember about my surgery? Ehh. Nothing? I went into it feeling excited and very relaxed. The nurse doing my pre-surgery eval questions while taking my blood pressure and hooking up the IV to my liquid forget everything juice, questionably said "you're very relaxed".

Well thanks. Am I supposed to be nervous? Cause now I am.  My heart rate immediately increased a little. I think my dear friend Martha who had the Lemony Snickets series of unfortunate events of bringing me and then taking me home, entered my little pre-waiting area to witness my debacle. This area was just a bed with a curtain and some monitoring machines; where you are probably suppose to keep talk to a minimum and below a five.  Sorry to whoever was in the other surrounding "rooms".  My demoralizing fake seizures and laughs at plots to scare anyone who dare enter was never under a ten. I blame Martha if it comes down to actually getting in trouble. It was all her idea.

After a few rounds with the patient representative asking me if I was nervous. Which again made me more nervous. I mean geez come on give a girl a break here.  And then a visit with everyone's fave the anesthesiologist I was starting to realize I wasn't waiting in line for a trim at Super Cuts. A cut maybe. Or three. But ones that didn't involve hair. More like flesh and internal organs. However tiny they may be I like procedures that don't involve digging around in my reproductive organs possibly removing things while I am asleep and my husband is across the sea. So after these visits the nurse came back in and shot me up with some liquid sleepytime in my IV just to "relax" me now that a parade of people came through just to ask how nervous I wasn't.

This is the part that gets a little sketchy. I remember the nurse laughing at something I said and my guess is that it was highly inappropriate but ridiculously funny enough to tell the other nurse that maybe "I didn't need that extra shot of drugs." Obviously my crazy antics before any drugs were given was enough to make a few laugh.  Or then again, maybe she just wanted to be entertained.  I don't really know why I was given anything before the surgery. Either way. I think if I was a nurse I would've done the same. I like laughing and shooting people up with drugs seems like a legit way to get a couple of free chuckles.  Or lose a job.  I am sure this is exactly why I also couldn't be a nurse.  So during this waiting time of being zoned out of my mind I did a little Face Time on my phone. Which I do not remember at all. I later found this gem the next day and had a few painful laughs myself. Sorry if you have seen this already through my Instagram but I have to share part of my drug induced day with the rest of the blogging world.

Apparently Dr. H came in to speak with me as well...that was him at the end. This I also do not remember. I do remember them pushing me into a room and putting the oxygen mask over my mouth and telling me to breathe in. And boom I wake up and I'm in a wheel chair getting helped into Martha's car on our way home. Fully dressed.

I found out later that while I was helped getting dressed I turned and spanked my butt at my victim of a friend Martha.  In that moment I was VMA Miley. I'm pretty sure we all know she was on drugs during that performance. At least I had a legit excuse. Like surgery. What's hers besides a bad voice and no talent? Besides, Billy Ray Martha said she found it hilarious and I don't even remember the performance. So I call that a free round-trip on the embarrassment train to awkwardville. Sans memory. Thank goodness.

 Yes..yes I do...

While we are thanking our naked lucky stars about not remembering things. Lets be thankful for what we came here for. Answers. Boy did he not let us down on those.

Day 4 Post Lap

This sums up how I feel trying to eat anything.  I finally was able to use the bathroom for its sole purpose today thanks to a cup of coffee and a shower with some antibacterial soup.  I felt like if I waited any longer the hair on my legs would need more than just a razor.  The pain in my stomach is slowly going away no thanks to all the laughing over texts from my idiotic family and friends.  I am more bloated and a little bruised today more than the first few days but it will pass after a week or two I was resassured.  No complaints, I would do it 1000 times over again.  I was ordered not to workout or do any lifting of over 10lbs for two weeks so I am using Barry and Meia as my guidelines.  If anything weighs more than two Pomeranian's I'm not touching it. Unless its something edible. Then I will make an exception.

This was me after four days of not pooping and finally being able to eat something solid and all classy like.

So I when I got home on day one I had no idea what my results were.  The Dr. briefly went over them with Martha because I was too busy popping rufilins and spanking myself. But really I had no clue what happened even after she told me the jest of his summary.  I woke up needing to know right away, I felt panicky like I was robbed and I would never find out who stole my phone(true story).  I called the nurse line giving the office admin my hydrocodone third degree on, "How in the heck do they expect me to wait 12 days for any answers, are they crazy!?"

I am so sorry office guy. Overly dramatic week.

My phone rang later that day and it wasn't just my nurse relaying the news it was my Dr. himself.

Dr., "So I hear you want to know some results from the surgery?"

Me, No shit. But really, "I don't even remember having a conversation with you let alone remembering any results I was given(ha ha ha...fake laugh)."

Dr., "Well, both of your tubes and ovaries were blocked and covered but I was able to remove and repair everything without losing any of them.  The Endometriosis I am not sure how long it was there or if it will be coming back due to that it was everywhere.  Now that it is removed for the most part I am confident and I see no reason why you will not be able to conceive naturally. My only concern would be an ectopic pregnancy with all the scar tissue damage but with early on ultrasounds we will make sure everything is going ok. When you come in on the 18th I will go over everything in more detail and show you the pictures from surgery and discuss what the plan is if you are still not pregnant after a few months."

Me: (Jaw dropping, tears flowing, head spinning) "Are your serious? That is amazing news" I was really thinking holy effing shit! I murmured a couple more "ok thats great, and sounds good"...and hung up the phone.  Did he just say naturally? Wait..endometroisis? What a bitch. This whole time? What about the HSG? What if it comes back? How long do I have? Why is this happening to me? Is this just another joke? Why am I being blessed? OMG he said he was confident. I need to text my husband...omg I need to text my husband...ughhhh afghanistan I going to have a baby......maybe? It hurts to laugh or cry...ouch....

My brain is still processing the realization that my Dr. is confident in us being able to have children on our own. No IVF. No more medication with the slight exception of some Femera or a shot of Ovidrel. No big deal. But no worrying daily about how we will pay for IVF or what if it doesn't work...or I can go on and on. To say I cried about a thousand happy tears over the past few days would be an understatement. You would think when someone gets labeled with something such as Endo they would be pissed off. Not this girl.  I will take whatever is laid across my plate...or ovaries in my case. To have an answer is indescribable. To think we may be parents sooner than we thought is a blessing.  To think about all my sisters still struggling is bittersweet. 

I can't predict the future.  I don't have a crystal ball showing me what will happen but the monumental fact that I have the WHY to my puzzle is a huge relief. It may have taken a long time and many heartbreaking memories to get this one answer. However, that is nothing compared to the hopeful happiness I now completely feel inside just thinking about the confident possibility of becoming a mom. I finally got a Full folding this time peeps.  I'm going all in.

Mind blown.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Patience Is Not My Virtue

October can not come fast enough.  You would think I would be the girl that has acquired the ability to wait patiently after everything that has gone on over the past five years.  But no.  I am still the same impatient, lead footed, speed walking, trying to talk on the phone while texting and looking up a recipe on Pinterest girl.

TIME. That is one monster that I will never learn to tackle with grace.  Lets be honest no one is beating time. Unless you have a good plastic surgeon...............
Apparently she didn't. Or is this a he....and now I'm confused.

........ or you are skilled in the arts of witchcraft like Bianca Lawson who not only plays a very young dead teenage witch on The Vampire Diaries, as Emily,....but also played a 16 year old on PrettyLittleLiars.

She's 34 folks.  My money is going with real life witch on this one. Sorry Bianca. Or is it Griselda?

But then we have my husbands my favorites who definitely have a few tricks up their non-aging time stopping sleeves......

Oh hey look at me, Eva Mendes, blowing a perfect kiss with my perfect 39 year old face and body. And I am about to marry Ryan Gosling....what a travesty.

..........................................and do I really need to even say anything about Miss Berry. She turned 47 this month and I'm pretty sure she has looked the same since she took Mrs. Ohio in 1986. Minus the hair. PTL.

And then there is my all time favorite 44 year old All American bad ass Jennifer Anniston.  

ummmm......wait a minute...why is she standing in a wheat field??....I'm pretty sure those shorts are made out of cotton.  Get it together girl friend.  
We don't want Justin Theroux to be another Brangelina episode.  I felt sad for her for a whole year and hated Angelina up until the whole mastectomy thing went down this past year!  Geez, talk about cancer sympathy to make me feel horrible and make amends for Angelina stealing her man.

Side note.  Screw cancer.  Its been royally pissing me off for years since it took my granny and since been causing unwanted visits to very special and truly loving people in my family and my friends lives. A cure would be swell at any point in TIME. End note.

I am not saying that looks are everything.   I am just questioning if there is an undisclosed source of TIME hidden somewhere in the greater continental US that these ladies are accessing for a fee paid in small unmarked bills.  I  believe that everyone has to be comfortable in their own skin wrinkly or not.  Overweight or toothpick.  I feel pretty dang comfortable at almost 33(minus the constant ticking coming from my lower abdomen) with myself but Halle Barry at 50....girlfriend is setting the bar a littleeee too high for my husband to be expecting me to look that good in 20 years.  Not going to happen D.  Unless we hit the mega millions and I pull a Demi Moore.  No. Not even then.  I would use that money for infertility babies all over the world and keep my wrinkly old saggy ass....well saggy. Good genes or a skillful surgeon?  Whatever the answer is, more power to them.  But really ladies, if you have coordinates to this TIME capsule I'm pretty good at Geocaching. Not, really...but it sounds cool. I am too lazy for that. 

I can honestly say the past five months have gone by pretty fast considering.  I would thank my uterus and ovaries for keeping me busy but I currently still hate them.  Speaking of Laprascopy is set for September 5th. Another time I am so impatiently waiting on.  I can't wait for my RE to cut into me and go on a scavenger hunt for answers.  No really. I am excited. Except for my recurring dream  nightmare of being awake but unable to move and seeing him preform the whole surgery and hearing him say my tubes are tied in knots..those are fun. So yes this week can hurry up and get to steppin' right along with the rest of September.  Did I mention I miss my husband? The next months blog posts are where I will try not to annoy you with too many of those. I know we get the point already Rachel.

While I am mentioning having patience and wanting time to hurry up so my husband will be back sooner I have another wrench to throw into the mix.  We are moving to MO. Fort Leonard Wood that is.  Middle of nowhere.  I will blog more about that news another day.  We just found out...actually my husband emailed me the news..there may have been a What the.....letter after E.

What does that mean for our IVF plans, our house, our cars since we need 4wd and my job(s).  Another post.  We are taking the good with the bad.  You have to be super flexible if you are married to someone in the military.

This is me 95% of the time.

Minus the bent toes....Everyone knows you gotta keep those pointed. #amateur.

A tip for my young military wives; not that I am wise and old in my great 32 years of life but 25 years(army brat) of military life has an effect on ones perspective.  One thing is for sure, if you don't learn to be flexible by duty station one, you are in for a long, torturous, miserable ride.  Hurry up and wait...that's your life now.  Take it or leave it...and since your husbands can't "leave it" that includes you too.  Unless you spend too many nights out at the club spending all your husbands deployment money on booze and taxis. (IUIs and Jimmy Johns over here!) Then your're the one that will be "leave it".  Its not that hard to pick up a hobby like quilting or reading a book and keeping your vagina closed.  But that's a lost cause that falls on whorish deaf ears so lets move on. I'm bitter because I have lost too many friends over the years because they were not the "quilting" types. 

One day at a time...expect the your spouse without complaint and don't forget to stretch.  In the meantime if you find that secret fountain while you're globe trotting across the world shoot me an email, I have a birthday coming up on Pearl Harbor Day and 18 year old ovaries sound fabulous again. Thanks.