tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28878036218910805782024-02-18T18:18:27.624-08:00Infertile Private PartsInfertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-39226593289412031902016-05-08T11:13:00.005-07:002016-05-08T11:14:41.447-07:00Bittersweet Mothers Day<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Its called bittersweet from what I've read. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not the chocolate you may have gotten on this Mothers Day but the feeling of love, happiness and joy twisted together with also knowing <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 30px;">how painful Mother’s Day is for those who cannot conceive or carry a child full term. M</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 30px;">ore than I would have had I not suffered from this infertility. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent;">I do know that even though I think all Mothers should be celebrated we should also take the time to remember that not all women are celebrating today. I remember disconnecting from social media days before this day when I was at my lowest of lows and I know many women who are right now feeling that same gut wrenching sadness. The constant stream of celebration can be overwhelming for women still waiting or mourning a loss.</span></div>
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What I also know is that I will never forget all the tests, treatments, surgeries, needles ((<span style="font-size: x-small;">oh my gosh so many needles))</span> but more importantly, the waiting and all of the unknown. The baby that made me a mother first before the twins that we will one day meet in Heaven. The tubeless body that will never conceive on her own ever again.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 30px;">That bittersweetness right there. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 30px;">I do also believe that because I can now celebrate being a mother to live babies that it is coming from a good place and personally most women are not trying to rub it in anyone's childless infertile face. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 30px;">I am forever grateful as long as the sun rises and sets for the two boys God and one hell of a embryologist has blessed me with. My heart has never been fuller. Raising twins has been THE hardest also THE most rewarding, greatest accomplishment I have and EVER will do. I knew for the longest time years before becoming a mother myself how amazing and indescribable being a mother would be. I guess I thought about it for so long and fought so hard and now that my dream has came true times two I wish nothing more for those women still fighting to feel the same every day joys that my babies bring me more than I ever dreamed. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 30px;">To my sisters still waiting. Today I celebrate you. Every day is Mothers Day for me. I don't need flowers or gifts to be considered a good mother. I have two blonde boys that do that every minute of every day. You keep me graceful on sleepless nights, when days are long and my tank is empty. I think of you still fighting, still begging, still praying to be called Mama by a sweet little miracle of your own. And I hope that you get to experience that moment somehow or someway whatever path it takes to get you here. I am always thinking of you. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 30px;">"On Mothers Day </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 30px;">I can think of no mother more deserving than a Mother who had to give one back." -Erma Bombeck</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 30px;">Happy Mothers day to all the Mothers who hold their babies in their hearts, in their arms and in their dreams.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 30px;"><br /></span>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-68060006153534041442015-11-14T02:42:00.001-08:002015-11-20T17:19:52.488-08:00One Year PUPO FeelsA year ago today my boys were one day old. Or in the world of IVFers. <div><br></div><div>PUPO. </div><div><br></div><div>Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise. </div><div><br></div><div>That feeling on that day (11/15/14) is so hard to explain. There are no words that would do it any justice. If you haven't walked down the IVF road they are just words. I say it all the time. But it's true. I could explain the shit out of it until I am blue in the face but until you wrote out a check for sticking needles in your stomach and buttocks for weeks. Not the good kind either. They are just words. </div><div><br></div><div>You see, a lot of family and friends of my own still do not understand what true miracles I get to hold in my arms every day. From the outside people see two babies. They see a lot of diapers and no sleep. These things as true as they may be are not what I see. </div><div><br></div><div>30%. That was the percentage we were given that both embryos would survive on transfer 5 days prior to being PUPO. Now, I am no math whiz but if you are gambling you definitely don't want to be on that side. We take those numbers like thousands of other couples and dive in without really having a clue what the hell they told us in the IVF meeting about mixing this drug and do this one first and this one at this time of the day. You are so overwhelmed even though you watch a million videos online and YouTube to try not to mess it up. </div><div><br></div><div>You drive over 2 hours to your IVF clinic at 4am. Before work to make it back in time to start your work shift. Every other day. You hope no one walks in on you at work or in public because everything is timed so you are shooting up looking like a junkie when you are just trying to make a baby. </div><div><br></div><div>We take out loans in hopes that this first cycle will end up with what you've waited years, 8 to be precise, for. Sometimes we do this 1,2,3,4+ times. We thankfully only endured this once. </div><div><br></div><div>You have surgeries to clear out your endometriosis. Along with saying goodbye to both Fallopian tubes also saying goodbye to EVER being pregnant on your own again. There are miscarriages and due dates that never happened that you will always remember. </div><div><br></div><div>We gain weight. We lose weight. </div><div><br></div><div>We don't drink alcohol or a sip of caffeine the month prior and during IVF because we think that will help our chances. </div><div><br></div><div>We go on diets of every kind. Sugar free. Gluten free. Give me a baby for free<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">. Nice try infertile. </span></div><div><br></div><div>We try Acupuncture and any hippie dippy bullshit that comes across your computer screen, phone screen or tv screen that tells you they can make you fertile. </div><div><br></div><div>We remember dates and numbers like November 10th, egg retrieval, and 7 the number of embroyos that made it to blasts. But we can't remember our own phone number sometimes.</div><div><br></div><div>We buy a million pregnancy tests just because you want to make sure you aren't seeing things or you want to test out your trigger shot which can give a false positive. </div><div><br></div><div>We are comfortable with a vaginal ultrasound as we've had hundreds with and any student or dr in training looking at our lady goods and infertile private parts. </div><div><br></div><div>We know OHSS and being overstimulated from all the IVF drugs and having to wait to freeze your embryos and transfer them after you recover. I luckily did not but I know many that have. </div><div><br></div><div>We remember the feeling of not having any embroyos make it to transfer after such a long journey or all of the above. </div><div><br></div><div>And finally again we remember the feeling of being PUPO after all of that. </div><div><br></div><div>Again. These are all just words. The feelings when you are going through it you can't understand if you haven't been there. It's not your fault. I don't blame or think of you badly because of it. I am happy you don't know half of those acryonyms or any of that pain. The worry. The guilt. Oh the guilt you feel for having to put your husband through infertility. </div><div><br></div><div>That's a big one. </div><div><br></div><div>The stress about not stressing. </div><div><br></div><div>The wait. If you waited on something for years and years and fought for it so hard maybe then you would understand "why does she posts so many pictures of her boys" or snap chats every second of their life. </div><div><br></div><div>Still. Just more words. </div><div><br></div><div>Our IVF story could have ended very differently. As I lay here at 3am reflecting on a year from being PUPO when I should be sleeping. I can't help but think how grateful I am for what I have. "Proven otherwise" happens all the time. </div><div><br></div><div>I got to see two pink lines after my trigger shot wore off and I was actually pregnant. I can't speak for those who did not but I can say for myself looking back now that it was all worth it. The pain. The guilt. The wait. The stress. The sadness. The bitterness. It all fades into the background of my life now. A life with twins. But it is still there. When you are on the verge of a breakdown from waking up by yourself to nurse, pump, change and feed two boys every 2-3 hours for four months. It's there. It keeps you grounded. You hug them and thank them for being here. When you average 1-2 hours of sleep for months and months you are still so thankful deep down inside. It is there. You actually cry because you know instead of no sleep you could have no baby(ies). Your love is so huge from everything it took to get here it makes you stronger. Much more patient. So much love. It keeps you going. People ask "how do you do it with twins?" </div><div>It's not me to be honest. It's the ladies still waiting and the boys I've waited so long for. The ladies whose PUPO only lasted for a few weeks or just days. I think of them when my colic twin is crying for hours and doesn't sleep. I promise it's not me. I am no super hero or genetically altered super mama. I am trying my hardest to not be one of those weird moms who never leaves her baby(ies) for a date night or "mommy time" that I see others doing but we are going on 5 months and I have yet to accomplish that. Talk to me when they are 8 months maybe. And what's the secret to not just thinking about them while you are gone and actually enjoying your time?? Anyone?? Like I said. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I am an average mama. I'm ok at best. I put my boys in front of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse when I need five minutes to eat for the first time in the day by noon and chug my cold coffee. </span></div><div><br></div><div>The women who are still fighting. Still on their 2nd, 3rd and 4th......round of IVF or FETs are the real MVPs and super heroes.</div><div><br></div><div>I still feel your pain. Only for you now not myself. I know what I have and I appreciate it so much and nothing can compare to having them. No sleep. No money. No time waiting. </div><div><br></div><div>Every ounce in the depths of my heart and soul in my body is grateful every day. Even the hard days. It's not worth mentioning or complaining about. That takes away from the love I have. </div><div><br></div><div>If you are one of those ladies I am so sorry. Don't give up. Whether IVF, surrogacy, adoption, foster care, buying a zoo of baby animals is your path to being a mama I can tell you it is all worth it in the end as much as you hear that over and over and you're thinking like I did WHEN WHEN WHEN damn it. When is MY when??!</div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I wish I could tell you and wave a magic wand. I hope it is soon for you. That's all I can do. And pray. </span></div><div><br></div><div>In the end, no matter how I try to answer, "how do you do it with twins" to people, usually I shrug my shoulders and just say how awesome my boys are. But deep down I am thinking in my head the answer to that question is simple if they ever felt the feels of being PUPO. </div><div><br></div><div>30% </div><div><br></div><div>That's how. </div><div><br></div><div>Forever thankful for these gifts I've been given. I will cherish my 30% babies forever and ever. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPvpkBP61gXiZqRoFW1m2LIhlT_qbtpqZrFYX3SiNOIl1x09DV8MHQnRhxDnxELDRyIFw3acnNfMnEj46hKeA2EG5Qn_dPMKIdO_lvbbUov53PsDIgaiwRJoorNGIxpjVMtB0N4KJE6c2/s640/blogger-image-1387278369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPvpkBP61gXiZqRoFW1m2LIhlT_qbtpqZrFYX3SiNOIl1x09DV8MHQnRhxDnxELDRyIFw3acnNfMnEj46hKeA2EG5Qn_dPMKIdO_lvbbUov53PsDIgaiwRJoorNGIxpjVMtB0N4KJE6c2/s640/blogger-image-1387278369.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-75751170405271824742015-08-28T23:24:00.000-07:002015-08-29T04:28:55.209-07:00Infertile Twin Mom's Top 10 Baby Buys<div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So you're knocked up. Finally. Or maybe surprisingly. Surpriseeee....We hate you. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Just kidding.</span> Either way. This is going to be the list of the $hit you should be buying for your bebes. Or if you have to attend a disgusting baby shower(yuck) the parents will love you for purchasing any one of these things even if they don't realize it until the time comes. Aka the shit hits the fan. Literally....and figuratively. Maybe just the bed or if you're lucky to catch it in your hand you are one step ahead. Make sure you cover that boy up with something before you get sprayed in the face at 2am too. It happens. A lot. Especially around here when you just put on a new outfit. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Since we hit the IVF lottery and we are blessed with two little minions this list will be geared towards twins but most items are for one baby as well. If you're having triplets. God bless you. I don't know how you trip mom and dads survive. Coffee. Buckets of coffee I'm sure. And a whole lot of mombie. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So let's get to it. The boys are sleeping so that gives me an hour to knock this out. Who am I kidding...I'll be holding one in ten minutes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1) </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">First off the holy crap we are actually having a baby list are Rock N Play Sleepers. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The ones with the automatic rocking mechanism are what I'm referring to here. Our boys slept in the Twin Pack n Play(won't need this for another 6 months) for one night. Yep. One whole night. Then they slept back and forth with us in our bed(ahh I know what a travesty...the horror..oh no she didn't) and back to the rock n plays. You can carry them around the house from room to room while you make more bottles or fold laundry in the living room. They are light weight and small enough for travel. They are inclined and move like I said a u t o m a t i c a l l y. Duh. Definitely buy this one. Or like me. Two. I scored two on Black Friday from Target for around $50 free shipping. They normally run around $70-$80 each for this version. Thank me later. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2)Must Have Remedies &</span> <span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">NoseFrida</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Next up. I grouped these into one picture and called them the starting lineup. Buy all of this crap. Thats where you need to start. No brainer. If they make gripe water in buckets please email me and let a sista know where to score that motherload. Tummy troubles, colic, fussy babies, sleeping husband....wait. Just kidding. Doesn't work on that. But really, all of these things will work like magic. Not on the husband though. You're on your own with that. I'm only one person. Call Dr. Phill or someone. Geez. Get off my back. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The NoseFrida is the tube suction looking thing which is in short a snot sucker. It works amazing and when your little ones come down with a cold because they will no matter how much hand sanitizer or soap you use or Clorox "wiped" your house is. The little jerks. They. Will. Get. Sick. Eventually. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The chest rub smells amazing and it's all natural so slab that crap on like there's no tomorrow. (With everything use with caution according to what's on the label. I'm not claiming to be a medical profesh over here these are just what I use for my boys and it's not my fault if you overdose your kid because you're a moron.) I found everything above at Walmart except the Nose Frida. You can get it on Amazon, BabiesRUs and other places for around $15 dollars. It's called Google people. Again only one person. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was gifted both a boppy and lounger or I would have just bought 2 of the newborn lounger versions instead of having one of each. On the lounger version the boys don't slip down like on the regular boppy. I put something under mine to help with that annoyance. I also prop a pillow up behind them when feeding to give them more of an angle. I always hold them to feed them from a bottle but when you have twins they will wake up once you start feeding one, be starving and then get impatient and start screaming so this works best for me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I had the money to splurge the "Table for Two" looks awesome! I would definitely get that. I didn't know it existed until a few weeks ago or that bad boy would be sitting on my bed right now with two hungry hippos in it. It even has the padding to prevent them from slipping. So if you have an extra $270 dollars to blow. Blow it on that and not on a fancy crib that they won't sleep in right away or a stupid crib bedding set. I didn't do either of those things for the record. Just sayin. </span></div>
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<div class="" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both;">4)<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Double Snap n Go Stroller</span></div><div class="" style="clear: both;"><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">This is the easiest, most convienant stroller to use when it comes to lugging around two babies. And by yourself. I would buy this ten times over if I had too. Lucky for me and my thirftiness(aka èl cheapó) I found mine at a yard sale/Craigslist for $40 bucks. Totally worth the $80 though even if it's just being used while they are in infant car seats. Side note -my next stroller is the City Select Double Jogger just in case you are wondering. I've been wanting that since the Titanic sank. I'll never let go either. </font></div>
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5)Zipper SleepnPlays</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok people listen up. Zipper freaking everything and anything. Especially when you have twins or more. Those people who buy you the pajamas or outfits with a million stupid buttons. Punch them in the face. Not really. You can thank them and in your head pretend to punch them in the face. Unless it's the most adorable thing you have ever seen. I have two of those. And they get a free pass. But what I'm really talking about here is pajamas. No one wants to be Mrs. Buttons Alot at 12am, 2am, 4am and 6am(if you're lucky to have boys that wake up to eat every two hours going on 8 weeks). She's stupid and you will end up not buttoning them half the time by 4am when on baby number two. Now Miss Zipper Quickly. You will want to be her. She's the best. The boys only wear zipper sleepers or gowns. Don't leave Mrs. It'snotadressit'sa Gown (insert husbands name) David out. She's pretty awesome too. In and out. Like you're robbing a bank. But no money is involved. Just pee and poop. And you don't want to get shot. </div>
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6)Vicks Vaporizer</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pretty self explanatory. See sick baby reference above on numbers 2&3. We also have a nice humidifier as well in our room. But this with the liquid vaporizer stuff you pour in does magic as well on the noses. </div>
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7)Microwave Sterilizer</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because. Germs. Pour some water in it throw all your thousands of annoying Dr. Brown bottle parts in it and toss it in the microwave to sterilize while your water is boiling for formula or breast milk is warming. </div>
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9)Prefolds</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because they are hands down the best burp cloths you will use. I also have two laying on a blanket on the bed for all the overnight diaper changes every 2-3 hours. My quilt thanks me. So does my washer. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">10)Moby Wrap</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pick up crying fussy newborn. Place him in Moby. End of crying fussy newborn. I hear some babies rarely don't like this. Both mine love it. And who doesn't love hands free. I also have the Twingaroo carrier but the boys are only </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a few days shy of 2 months old and too little for that just yet. Also. Spend the money and buy an Ergo if you are looking for a carrier. Trust me. Don't go èl cheapó on this one. Your back is worth every penny. You're welcome. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">So that concludes my Top Ten things you need to survive at least the first six months of twins or a singleton baby. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">I could have added honorable mention. A teapot. But that's only if you're using formula to supplement(which I am) and I didn't want to go through a hundred comments about breast is best etc etc. Mermmy warzzz. I wish I didn't have to but I do. End of story. But I use that 12 dollar teapot everyday so it would be number 11 on the list. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">Along with number 12 a small portable heater for bath time because we like a warm spa like bath experience around here. With essential oils as well going in a diffuser. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">So that's it. Print this off or write a few down. Pinky promise you won't regret buying these things. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">I should be posting my birth plan or birth story whatever those dumb things are called. Mine wasn't really a plan. It was an unplan if you will kind of like my whole building a family plan. I'm working on a post now. But the boys are doing great. Had a little cold(told ya) but are feeling better now. I'll leave you with some newborn photo spam. And yes I need to change my blog header. I know. Baby steps yall. Gotta go!</font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">Bye for now. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUq8kr-cznAsWxHHtArSL5bpC0VfAIXffszMsbaohXwQ-Whk0dMGZICZDgIEbOfNiRKVqhHwBqVmMfahiqsytGjZRZSzCEgdWgUOn4h_tYZW9EZhp8-WtDv17kJe-Bt_3Nht19mWnSRE5l/s640/blogger-image--1645098274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUq8kr-cznAsWxHHtArSL5bpC0VfAIXffszMsbaohXwQ-Whk0dMGZICZDgIEbOfNiRKVqhHwBqVmMfahiqsytGjZRZSzCEgdWgUOn4h_tYZW9EZhp8-WtDv17kJe-Bt_3Nht19mWnSRE5l/s640/blogger-image--1645098274.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-83756915745629428352015-05-06T14:04:00.000-07:002015-05-10T06:23:52.846-07:00Pregnant Infertile thoughts....<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't worry after a few months of being <strike>absent</strike> hiding out from my blog, passing the time all knocked up and dependa like, now that I'm not working, this isn't a post of me going on and on about how preggo I <b>really</b> am. I do however have a few things I would like to get off my now enlarged chest(positives people).</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">First things first. I hope your Cinco De Mayo hangover is wearing off by now. I mean it is 10am on a Wednesday slacker, really how many Margaritas could one consume during the middle of the week? Those of you applying for new jobs this morning I am assuming ALOT. Plus it is the dreaded bah bah bummm Mothers day/week. The one I dreaded for almost eight years. Staying off social media this week was a given some of those years depending on where I was in the up and down roller coaster of infertility. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes I still had my own Mother who raised me and in a perfect world I should be happy as a bumblebee in a field of wild flowers. But we aren't all bumblebees and those flowers sometimes feel like dead flowers or for me miscarriages or another failed infertility treatment. Slapping you in the face and reminding you again another year has passed by and you still are not a mother. Technically speaking of course. People are telling me Happy Mothers Day but they never said anything last year. So to those of you that had to give your baby back like I did and no one wished you a Happy Mothers Day then, I'm sorry. They probably don't mean to be hurtful they just don't understand and they never will. You are and always will be a mother my loves. </span><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Those of you still fighting, still dragging yourself to another millionth Dr. appointment shoveling out another lump of cash for what is starting to seem hopeless on this day or week, I'm sorry. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know what it was like to feel that way for a long time and to now feel completely different and free from hurt. I think my Instagram news feed after 4 years is now 90% of women with toddlers, babies, or pregnant with their second or third child as I scroll up and down. I see it too. And I am sorry. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not that pregnancy shouldn't be celebrated or pictures of your blessings shared but I was there and at times over and over, picture after picture it gets to be too much. I think in the past 7 months of being pregnant I've maybe posted 12 pictures of myself. All of them a celebrated milestone of where I came from but I know deep down they still hurt at least a little. I feel it when I go out in public. Wondering if that women in her 30's alone is struggling like I was. I try not to make eye contact and it's hard to cover this mountain on my front side now but I wish I had a shirt to wear in moments like this that say, "Miracles Happen" or "My Dr. Knocked Me Up"......I do have two shirts that say, "Don't give up" and "Dream Big" but in those moments I am never wearing the darn things. So to the infertile woman staring at my huge belly in line at the grocery store. I am sorry. I understand and I wish I could tell you I was once in your shoes. </span><br><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I guess my point is that I am sorry Mothers Day is hard for those still waiting especially if you are waiting and a miscarriage survivor and I think about you more than myself even though now I am pregnant. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I chose to be happy and not dwell on the sadness that's the only advice I have. Sometimes you can and other times you can't. Throughout the past seven years I tried to stay in control and it was a constant battle of happiness verses sadness but it worked and looking back I am glad I chose to focus on the happiness in my life. No matter how small sometimes those moments were. Who likes walking around all sad and miserable everyday? Not this girl. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you have unfollowed me on IG, I understand and feel nothing but compassion for you. If I had a genie in a bottle or access to Bill Gates bank account I would do work on your fight to becoming a mother. Reality is, Aladdin is a joke and we took out a loan ourselves for IVF so all I have is unlimited virtual hugs, a lot of love and understanding and someone to hear you vent. I believe you are all mothers if only in your heart right now and I hope your path to motherhood is shown to you soon.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok, so this should be two seperate posts but I like to live out side of the box. Honestly, I've been holding this in for months now. And even before becoming pregnant I have blogged about it but I feel like if you are following me on any social media it should be clear where I stand. Apparently it is not. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whatever I do while being pregnant or eventually as a mom is no ones business except my own or my husbands. I am thirty freaking four years old not sixteen and pregnant. Please educate yourself on real facts before sending me junk mail. I've cared for and watched nieces, nephews and cousins for weeks and months at a time as babies all the way up to teens over the past 18 years from being a babysitter to a nanny to a loving spoiling over the top Aunt. So please stop with the emails, the private messages, the comments on pictures on how I should or shouldn't be doing something. I am not reading them anyways. So stop wasting your time and filling up my trash inbox. Thanks. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am sure there are millions of moms who feel the same way about these over bearing, know it all, my way is the right way mothers. I see other friends under attack or getting schooled on what someone thinks is best for another persons child. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Enough rambling for the day. I will try to post something less vent-full next time like pictures of the nursery perhaps or of our mini maternity shoot with the boys names? Not sure if that's too much on here for some of you? I am still juggling not over-sharing too much preggo-saurusness. I am still paranoid especially after last nights trip to the L&D at 27 weeks. I'm home now and the boys are doing great just need to be taking it much easier than I have been apparently.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> I could have swore I was Superwomen for a moment.</span> As in, lay here in this bed and don't move unless you need food or to pee. Which occurs a lot in the <strike>fourth</strike> third trimester with twins. I would stand on my head if that's what the good midwife ordered but I'm off to <a href="http://www.babymed.com/food-and-nutrition/how-safe-it-eat-sushi-or-raw-fish-during-pregnancy" target="_blank">devour some sushi</a> which apparently uneducated people think is a huge "no no" for pregnant women. Along with decisions of me not having a baby shower, having our twins in our bedroom for 6 months after they are born, buying used items for the boys etc etc. to each their own people. Specifically my own. Thank you. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(click "devour some sushi" for some enlightenment). </span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To all my future and current baby momma's out there keep on being the amazing mom's you are and block, unfollow, politely ignore or roll your eyes to those that just have a little extra time on their hands to tell you how to live. And you know who I mean. To my infertile ladies just remember this post for future reference because it will happen to you my loves. Until next time. </span></div>
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</div></div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-15525753384037797332015-03-05T09:17:00.000-08:002015-03-05T10:04:26.391-08:00Still processing. Aka hot mess.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There I was standing in the middle of the Gap outlet crying uncontrollably.....</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We aren't just talking a little whimper here a tear there. I mean a full on breathing heavy sobfest repeating "please get it together" in my head "thank God no one is in this store because it's a Tuesday type of cry." Got the tears going up on a Tuesdayyy......real mature Rachel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So anyways I stumbled around like a zombie not able to look at or purchase anything for at least thirty minutes. Even the extra 60% off clearance couldn't help me snap back from my spiral downfall of the emotional wreck I was in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Choo choo. All aboard the hot mess train. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I shuffled out the door hiding behind my husband with my head down just in case they thought he was beating me and needed to intervene. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I sat in the truck as my husband went into Nike and I tried to pull my shit together. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It worked a little. We headed into the Carters outlet with a gift card from my beautiful friend Chelsea that she gave us at Christmas. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In my head. ((Baseball....baseball stadium..wait that's for dudes. Puppies. Cute little fluffy golden retriever puppies bouncing around with their puppy stinky but love for puppy breathe. Max was such a cute puppy. Oh lord....no no no no noo. Baseball and bats and home runs. Ok this is working)) We entered the store. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where do I even begin. The bathroom of course. These babies are still laying low and sideways stacked on top of eachother so the bathroom is my best friend still these days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Side note. At my ultrasound today Twin A was punching or caressing Twin B's face. They were laying face to face and I'd go with punching most likely. They are very crammed and it's like survival of the fittest I'm sure in here for them. Ok carry on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I exited the bathroom. and we begin looking in the boy section. This store was also dead. Thank you baby Jesus. Just in case I decided to become "that" pregnant lady who just crys and pees all the time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There was an employee adjusting the clearance rack listening to me tell my husband how overwhelming this was. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Can I help you find something," she said. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes I slipped out a "No thank you, there is just a lot of baby clothes in here(no shit Rachel...hello it's a baby clothing store) I mean it's hard to find something together." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think she was confused by my response. She rattled off the sales and said. "Well all the boys clothes are on this side and all of the girls are on that half". ((Thank you for that information the pink and blue didn't give it away for me, but really its my fault for being such a nutcase and not explaining myself)).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Until. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Which one are you having?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Insert apparent tears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Both," as I immediately apologized for being a freak and crying. ((Say something before she thinks you are upset you are having twins dumbass)). "We are so happy and excited and obviously overwhelmed. We just found out. Today."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">((Good recovery))</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Ohhhhh. Wow. Well congrats."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I knew there wasn't a twin section after that response. And she pretty much was like good luck with that. And it made me laugh. My husband walks over with an outfit making me laugh more and proceeds to look at the clearance rack not thinking about the babies ages for next winter picking out something summery. Again I laugh and give him the rundown on sizes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No more crying. I think it has passed. I am more drained and zombie stoned like as I shuffle over to the girls side. Trying to find matching outfits while standing on one side of the store is more complicated than solving a rubiks cube without peeling off the stickers and putting them where you want. There is literally thousands of choices of the cutest baby crap it makes it even harder to decide. I grab something coral for a girl because teal and coral are my jamberry sauce. And my husband spots something in a similar color for a boy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Score. Let's get out of here before psycho sister Rachel comes back and ruins a rack of clothes with tears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To say all day I was still processing the blessing of first of all having twins. No matter what the sexes I would have been happy and cried. But to find out we were having boy girl twins was more than this infertile momma could handle. Is this real life? I'm still struggling to manage the emotional thoughts of actually being pregnant everyday and now God has blessed us with a boy and a girl. Water works city yall. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am forever grateful and everything I went through over the years is fading into background noise. I wasn't sure if it would as I've said before but these babies are filling a crater sized hole that's been waiting on them forever and they aren't even here yet. Excuse me while I go buy stock in Kleenex...and Pampers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the meantime we moved into a new house. Yay no more three story letting your dogs out in the middle of the night to pee or carrying laundry up two flights of a two bedroom cramped townhouse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pictures to come soon of my projects on the new house. We literally were up until 3am painting a hutch with my hot husband(muscles and you chalk paint and sand furniture with me) this week is amazing. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_EL_XHm3cZZqpdmfXcaSgcywv3HTNYt76njRNRXWEn5lB2Xgon-Vo_YKtDtADwPKxWKM4u-2mbrjsvgsu2DyUW07GQFtb1TbXqwGDP8F-SwuzhK0ol87S0wE9mmt7H76CgqKhlqNTCWG/s640/blogger-image-1447919992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_EL_XHm3cZZqpdmfXcaSgcywv3HTNYt76njRNRXWEn5lB2Xgon-Vo_YKtDtADwPKxWKM4u-2mbrjsvgsu2DyUW07GQFtb1TbXqwGDP8F-SwuzhK0ol87S0wE9mmt7H76CgqKhlqNTCWG/s320/blogger-image-1447919992.jpg" width="240"></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Besides this. Find a perfect mismatched paint for $3.00 dollars. Let it roll out of your cart for free. Hopefully we do better with the twins.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfv2_gfBKFPVk56HBuHR7Xe6aIQhm-3tDpKVfhlM3zmGbXzfs_0XpQ9eQfI_8xUvbVlg3Nk4n1OiZVVMVgwr2HZR0qEP5IKkEv2kv7MAg5pWrvuheFgE52aLYf-aUct1QTSFdplVy0k0m/s640/blogger-image-2000829047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfv2_gfBKFPVk56HBuHR7Xe6aIQhm-3tDpKVfhlM3zmGbXzfs_0XpQ9eQfI_8xUvbVlg3Nk4n1OiZVVMVgwr2HZR0qEP5IKkEv2kv7MAg5pWrvuheFgE52aLYf-aUct1QTSFdplVy0k0m/s320/blogger-image-2000829047.jpg" width="240"></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I found another mismatched paint in another exact color I wanted so it made up for it. And thankfully I was wearing my AE $20 dollar boots not my $160 Uggs two Marine friends of ours bought me. Who pays that much for shoes anyways. Crazy. And I'm rambling.....but here's the before and after $40 dollar hutch. Get your wow face on girls.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiK5C_kLqOqEgn-99jfkUPcIWLRdej76HdVEJIyjK8zP8ODJgWfborL3oBM71ePZQgIGQtJzXt-Q3NLRpBEZScmh9yEuguGKapLSqhsYT4uDIBaSvpNSCzDm6M2Q0oigOkmR0QFJObZQUH/s640/blogger-image--1992953513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiK5C_kLqOqEgn-99jfkUPcIWLRdej76HdVEJIyjK8zP8ODJgWfborL3oBM71ePZQgIGQtJzXt-Q3NLRpBEZScmh9yEuguGKapLSqhsYT4uDIBaSvpNSCzDm6M2Q0oigOkmR0QFJObZQUH/s400/blogger-image--1992953513.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I also have nursery furniture refurbishing going on. Just typing nursery is surreal. I'm sorry if it offends you or hurts your feelings. I definitely will focus on blogging about DIY projects and not how huge I am getting or what it's like being pregnant. Ain't nobody got time for that. I cherish each day no matter how hard it is compared to what should be an easy trimester from every other person but the babes are making me earn my pregnancy for sure. I still thank my lucky stars and get on my knees for the gift(S) I've been given knowing friends I've met online and in real life are still waiting or hitting a current road block in infertility. My heart hurts not being able to do anything to help but just sit here and be all pregnant and talk about nurseries and twins. It really does. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But until next time ladies. Thanks for the love and support you always give. </span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-29494653047571039852015-01-22T13:33:00.000-08:002015-01-22T18:56:26.774-08:00Shortest post ever. YouTube video update.Back so soon?...I know. You are probably sick of hearing me talk about myself so much. I know I am. So lets switch it up.<br>
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I finally<strike> got off my lazy </strike><strike>ass</strike> finished the second part of "Our Infertility Journey"...blah blah blah. I know its loaded with cheese but I couldn't leave my YouTube faithfuls hanging on an infertile limb wondering if I ever got knocked up. Besides I first started vlogging before blogging anyways. And I needed to finish a part two for the part one. Plus I need something to show our kids in 14 years when they are crying about not getting a new car for their birthday and saying how much we don't love them. "Here's your new car punk"((shows them their IVF a bills and walks away like a boss)). <br>
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So if you want to endure four minutes of briefly skimming over an IVF cycle making it look like a cake walk you can click the YT button on the right side of my screen at the top or you can just click <a href="http://youtu.be/eqvq91ZC9Dw" target="_blank">here</a>.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Yes mom...right where it says "here". </span><br>
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There was only so much I could cram in to the four minutes and a lot of things like saying "OH MY MOTHER TRUCKING GAWD it worked. It actually worked!<br>
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Or....the fact that I say things like "don't look back" or "never give up". I'm sure you're thinking its easy for me to say those things seeing that I am pregnant AND with twins now. But believe me. I've always said those things. I gritted my way through annoying baby showers. (Hello never having one of those awful things. You're welcome). I sat bleeding at a funeral losing our baby. I went to many treatments alone because my husband well...was at war. So if anyone has been through it with infertility(raises hand) not to sound like I know everything or is one upping you on the infertile factor scale(who does that) I just don't ever want to come off as "hey you, suck it up you little crybaby" and all pregnant and shit with twins now. That's not what I'm saying at all when I try to be encouraging or sarcastic. Mostly sarcastic. Please pray for my unborn children. </div>
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The past seven years of infertility and what it brought were hard. Not like trying to beat my husband in a game of Madden hard. But fucking hardest thing I've ever went through in my life hard. Even harder to losing a family member or even harder than losing my Max. But we did it. It's over and every day I am so incredibly grateful to get to carry these babies. Where is my damn cookie?</div>
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And probably some other things I left out like. How ridiculous it is that some insurances doesn't cover ART.</div>
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Ok stop me while I'm not in rantville. Let's just say I left out a lot. Cool. </div>
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Oh and for my grammar police I had a few typos after hours of reading over and over and still I failed. I need a better program for videos that Rachelify the typos. However I am uploading the new edited copy now. I know you creeps won't mind. Sorry I deleted the first. <br><br></div><div>
So Enjoy! Or don't. I'll jus be over here all "pregnant and shit with twins". (I need help). Good lord. <br>
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K. Bye for now!<br>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-67633555956466402682015-01-15T14:55:00.002-08:002015-01-15T15:27:00.523-08:00One day at a time.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I looked around and only a few people filled the small one room emergency room and there was someone standing behind me waiting to be seen but everyone felt like they were on top of me breathing down my neck waiting for me to say it. To make it real.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I stood in front of the awkward window with no privacy; glass all the way down to the counter with a small space to slide a card under like a gas station in the city and a stranger on the other side asking for my ID and date of birth. Everything felt the same. I had been here before. I tried to relay the past seven years of infertility and everything I have been through in a few short sentences. It was more like mumbling tourettes without my usual cursing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"...12/07/80.....I'm pregnant with twins...and I started bleeding after I got out of the shower...I've been having sharp pain in my right side since yesterday." My hair still drenched as I tried to speak quietly so everyone in the room didn't focus on the poor girl who was trying to keep from breaking down as my emergency room visit from a year ago that week flashed back in my mind. How could this be happening? We made it so far already...and I just had a normal ultrasound yesterday. This is what I blogged about last week and being terrified of happening. I finally let my guard down after my ultrasound was again perfect the day before. But at 8pm I slipped back into panic mode and everything felt like it was falling apart around me starting inside my space where there is a bump.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I....I had an ectopic miscarriage last year....we did IVF.....uhh..umm... I have endometriosis." I made no sense to even myself at this point. Why was I telling him this?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"...stop talking, you are such an idiot, I thought to myself."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I just started stumbling over words that might help me get back to a room faster. I was more important than the guy with the flu or the boot camp student on crutches waiting to be seen. At least that's what was playing in my head as I sat there waiting to be seen as every second ticked by and it seemed like an eternity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fifteen minutes creeped by but it felt like hours..."Thank you Jesus," as she called my name. Sorry Mr. Flu, I probably would have lost it if they would have seen you first. I remember my first flu.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Everything was the same. The smell, the sounds, the routine. Get undressed, give your "story", take some vitals, the Dr. will be with you shortly. It was like I was falling in the same pit and there wasn't anything I could do. "Remain calm...don't cry...don't do it...think about something happy," I repeated in my head over and over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whoever said don't stress because it is worse for your pregnancy must have to be Gandhi in this shitty nightmare situation. I was doing pretty good holding it together on the outside. I didn't want my husband to worry. Who knew what was going on at this point. It could be nothing I tried to convince myself over and over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had some blood drawn and then was wheeled down to have an ultrasound done just like before. She was clicking away on the keyboard and moving the probe over my abdomen. The waiting in those minutes are endless. She flipped the screen around and we saw our two little babies moving around like they were in Vegas at a Cirque du Soleil show. She printed off some ultrasound pictures and let us know that she wasn't a doctor but everything in her eyes looked fine but the Dr. would talk to us more back in the room.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I laid in bed back in my room and started ugly crying for a solid ten minutes. You know the one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had made it this far tonight but everything that happened and the flashbacks from last year consumed every part of me. There was no thinking of happy thoughts to distract myself. My nurse walked in and tried to reasure me everything was ok. All I could do was cry. "Hormones?" she asked, I nodded yes but really it was just so she would stop looking at my dumb bawl baby face. I was so upset at my body, overwhelmed with fear and overjoyed with some relief that so far everything was "ok." I was fucking bleeding after everything I have been through thats what I really wanted to say. Really I was just spotting and had cramping but simply there wasn't a definite explanation. I was terrified. My blood work came back normal. I peed in a cup and that came back fine. Thank god they missed that gonorrhea....wait what?<span style="font-size: x-small;">(lord I hope the non followers know I'm kidding)</span>.... A cyst perhaps is what they came up with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll take it. Understatement. We made it home around 2am and I was ordered to rest and call my OB. So that is where I am at. The bleeding has stopped. The cramps are minimal. The relief is coming back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As long as these babies keep growing and they stay put for at least another 5 months that is all I ask. I repeated in my head that I will never do this again. I will never ask for another miracle or to be pregnant again. Just this one time please is it too much to ask. Please God just get us through the next five months.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have some more testing next week at our hospital and again the following week at another hospital with better equipment and a 4D ultrasound to rule out any abnormalities. I will be 12 weeks on Monday and even though I felt a huge relief earlier this week after my appointment, last night made me take a few Mother may I steps back. Hopefully after all these upcoming tests are finished I can breathe a little easier and share a little more of these two miracles. Thank you to everyone for all your comments on my posts. I've been slacking at responding and feel like a turd but I read all of them and the support from women who understand even a smart ass such as myself, that doesn't need coddled or to post on social media that my vagina hurts every five seconds, I appreciate the time you take to follow this beautiful disaster of a blog. I really do. So thanks ladies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hopefully next time I won't bore you with my bloody pregnant vagina and will have a better update for you. Much love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bye! For now.</span><br />
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-30776751756723312832015-01-11T20:05:00.002-08:002015-01-12T15:39:34.625-08:00TornWhat does it mean to be infertile once you become pregnant? It's not like its a title I want to hold on to. Tonya Harding is the infertile of fertility while Nancy Kerrigan skates along with ease while snagging an Olympic medal. Please excuse my age for all of you born after 1986 and have no idea who that is. <div><br></div><div>Infertile. I have been that label for so many years and now that I am knocked up via IVF, I am at a crossroads as to what will become of this unorganized, hot mess of a blog. But more so how I feel about sharing being pregnant.<br>
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I will forever be infertile.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Duh. Points to no tubes in my stomach region</span>.</div>
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I am not the "we did IVF and had twins then magically got pregnant years later." That can never happen. But what does it REALLY mean now that I am about to end my first trimester with two tiny precious minions growing inside me.<br>
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I couldn't be more grateful that's a given. I am still terrified everyday that the world will tilt on its axis and all hell will break loose starting in my uterus. The saying elephant on your back really equates to the elephant on Rachel's back. If I wake up not sick or the heart burn goes away for a day I go into panic mode. I know there are women out there that know what I'm saying and get why I feel crazy when all my ultrasounds have been perfect. The ones who don't get my antics and who easily say just relax, have never had some real shit happen in their lives. I'm not talking about breaking a nail on Prom night. Or getting stuck in traffic when you are late for a hair appointment. Or heck even your dog dying. That was a bad year. Lets not talk about it.<br>
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I know people mean well, but the "don't stress" "relax" "everything will be fine" advice, I've heard them all. I haven't "let" it sink in, that this is actually happening because as hard as I damn well try; I am just not there yet. I have nightmares and flashbacks waking up to a bed full of blood or being wheeled down the hall of the hospital back and forth from ultrasounds to exams the night I started to miscarry. <br>
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The biggest dilemma I have along with allowing myself to relax since my Dr. knocked me up and looking like just another dependa robot spitting out kids at the military hospital is the guilt.<br>
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Why is there so much guilt surrounding me and this oversized lump on my stomach? I feel like I am stuck in a tug-of-war and one part of me is being pulled to shout to the world how happy I am and the other part of me is being pulled feeling immense guilt for finally actually being pregnant. I don't post pictures of stupid bump updates<span style="font-size: x-small;">.( I don't mind them that much but I know how yall infertile girls feel...kind of been there).</span> I don't have conversations about how tired I am or will I about the burdens and trials of being a mom in comments or posts about how sick I am or how my Crinone progesterone is the devil. I don't think you should feel bad for doing it either after everything you have been through. I'm just stuck in a quicksand of guilt.<br>
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My sweet friend posted a quote not long ago which went something like this.<br>
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We live in a world where everyone is always camera ready to capture and post every detail of their dumb lives. My dog taking a walk. My dog eating lunch. My dog getting a bath. My dog jumping for a treat. My dog took a shit....so on and so on. Hell I used to be guilty of this and now I am bored of it. Actually I like dogs more than people but seeing "Fido" every five minutes of every day is like watching Kim Kardashian get married. Again. Oh and again and probably again for safe measure. The point isn't about your dumb dog. It's people who complain about the stupidest(yep that just happened) shit on social media. Our society actually lives in a time where we sit down take a picture then post it online complaining about the dumbest shit like they really have a rough life. Its the few friends that I am so blessed to call my framily that have been through what I'm sure felt/feels like hell to them that amaze me. They don't cry online to the world or post pictures of their cancer coming back or the love of their lives leaving this earth before his or her time. Even though I feel like they have every right more so than you getting a flat tire on the highway snapping a picture and needing sympathy from stranger's online. If you are laughing at your stupid day I'm not talking about. Come on people you know who I'm talking about. You probably just rolled your eyes over their post. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">These few amazing people I speak of are stronger than these others will ever know. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Personally so you don't think I am full of shit and think I know everything about the world, I will share with you this. I laid on my couch recently holding onto and crying with my friend for hours who lost her husband as her sweet baby slept upstairs with my husband as they were visiting that weekend. The world is cruel and I still have a hard time understanding why such good beautiful people leave us too soon but I have learned from her strength how grateful I am to be where I am even after years of what seems so minimal now compared to the past year for her. Honestly, I really think she isn't human. But I am so lucky human or not human to be in her and her sons life. And the people that post humor and sarcasm when the world is literally spitting in their face. I love you guys too. #samesies</span></div><div>
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I know I am not making sense seeing that I went from talking about feeling guilty to rambling about talking more about your blessings. The thing is, I want to talk about my blessings but the guilt I feel for the women still waiting for miracles to happen is holding me back. I don't want anyone to think I am not grateful for being blessed with a successful IVF cycle, with twins, no doubt. That the 30% chance of both embryos sticking replayed in my head over and over again up until my 6 week ultrasound. On the other end of things I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Why is this so hard? Why do I care what anyone thinks? How do I get over this feeling? This isn't typical of myself. <br>
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That's more like it. My idol. Thanks Nene.<br>
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Now I feel better. I need to get it together and stop acting like a crazy, emotional, infertile now pregnant person who is trying to walk the Great Wall of China made of egg shells of infertility. Blessings are much better than burdens to speak on. I am not sure where this will go from here. I am not here to rub in the fact that you are still infertile and I will have two babies come July. Maybe I should change my name? "Guilty Infertile" "Sorry I beat the odds" "Tubeless with Twins".....if you have any suggestions please pass them along. And if you are tracking on what I'm saying please let me know I'm not crazy. In the meantime please think about my beautiful friend(look at that smile...geez she amazes me) and her sweet little boy when needing to take the time to post a picture out of needing sympathy for your kid not sleeping all week and how hard life is.<br>
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Posting pictures of bad pedicures or jacked up haircuts is acceptable as long as you can laugh at yourself. Texting them to me is even better. <br>
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Byeeeeee.</div>
</div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-30218296431508455662014-12-24T11:50:00.001-08:002014-12-29T09:59:47.376-08:00Just a number.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sitting here it feels surreal. Is this real life??</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All the thousands of appointments have faded into some oblivion that is far away from here and now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The butterflies in my stomach and anxiousness in my brain is in overdrive again today. I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">was relaxed all week up until yesterday. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have waited what felt like a lifetime to be shuffled along. "Fill out these papers....dot this line....the OB will be with you shortly. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wait what? This is insanely surreal. It is early in the morning the week of Christmas so the normal fertile crowds usually at a military hospital have dwindled to only 2-3 patients in the waiting room. None of which "look" pregnant. Why couldn't that happen the other twenty two times I came here?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Either way. This feels too good to be true. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The butterflies are still circling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">.....annnd in walks a preggo with a code red Mountain Dew complaining about her appointment out loud. Cue the typical, fertile, obnoxious, you owe me everything dependa preggos. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Adjective overload. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thanks for not letting me down hospital. I knew I could count on you. If anyone wants a lesson on self entitlement 101 I could show you around this place.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My friend walks out as she finished her appointment that happened to be today at the same time as me and she is surprised to see me still waiting. I shrug my shoulders and tell her I would wait all week just to be here but really only so Mrs. Code Red could hear me with my scowling face four feet away.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She was never thankful to be just a number.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The number I longed forever to be. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I checked the box "twins" under how many I am expecting. Not going to lie. I got a little teary eyed. Talk about winning the infertile lottery. I am not the typical female, emotional girl who bawls at weddings or when babies are born.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I became numb. You start dating for a few years you get married you buy a house and then you start a family and live happily ever after. That is what normal is. People don't experience real life tragedy or heartbreak year after year so they can't understand what you are going through. We took a different path but now we are much stronger from it.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Correction. I <b>wasn't</b> the emotional female.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You keep smiling about being just another number. You tell people you're having twins and "are so excited" before they respond with a "Good luck" and you want to punch them in the face. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They are just a number. They don't understand. They never will. And thats ok.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You know you have a long way to go but with each week you breathe a little easier.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I really could wait here all day to be where I am right now.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Shutup brain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't cry in the waiting room. Don't cry you big progesterone bawl baby.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's not her fault she's fertile and clueless. Code red basics that is...</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She didn't spend thousands on IVF.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She didn't wait years to become pregnant. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never drove 5 hours hundreds of times to a specialist to be poked and prodded unsuccessfully. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never started bleeding and had to rush into the bedroom to explain to her husband she might be losing their only baby they waited so long for.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never bled for 60 days after an ectopic miscarriage.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never had surgery to have her reproductive parts taken out without having a child first only hoping that IVF would work later.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never thought at 34 she would still be childless.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never had her husband inject her with shots hoping this 40% chance process would work in the end.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never ended up hating baby showers and vowed to never have one. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The thought of staying up all night changing crap diapers and breast feeding never sounded like music to her ears. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never felt bad for posting a pregnancy announcement or bump picture on Facebook in fear of hurting someone.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never had to defend herself for stupid "just adopt(it's so easy)" comments.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never avoided military company parties because she was the only one without 1 or 4 kids.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She was never told she would never have a baby naturally.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She obviously never gave up caffeine even before becoming pregnant because she was afraid of the unknown risk to hurt or damage the one thing she has prayed and fought for. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never did not complain about her pregnancy to anyone.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never cried from having morning sickness because she was happy.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never stopped shopping and going on vacations or to visit family to afford IVF.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never had a stash of baby things that have collected dust or given away over the years when she gave up hope at times. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never lied and said she didn't want kids after being infertile for so long that she hated explaining it over and over to invasive strangers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never switched Drs. multiple times or saw multiple RE's to help her conceive.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She never felt like a complete failure for so many years month after month.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It took me a long time to learn that this plan we have for ourselves isn't ours to make. It's already been made. I won't tell you it will be worth it or everything will work out in the end. I don't know those answers. I hated hearing those responses from people who haven't experienced the same loss. I knew they meant well but it always made me aggravated like they knew his plan for me more than I did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do know one thing. That once you reach whatever dream you are holding on to, the waiting and the pain isn't as big as the joy and absolute happiness is from reaching that dream. You just have to trust me on that one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Believe me. The pain you pushed away is still in there. Standing in the corner like the bad kid who broke all the crayons on the first day of school(my future kid). You block it out. I always tried to block it out anyways. Yes I had some bad moments here and there but for the most part being miserable and whoa is me was not my cup of tea.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You let the happiness fill that emptiness. The only pain is that of the other women you have grown to know and care for who are still struggling to have their dreams realized. You wish you could do something but you feel helpless and you want them to know you are always thinking about them. Especially when Mrs. Ungrateful Code Red comes storming in. You think about them. You wish you could yell at her and say just be grateful she is pregnant because your friend just had another failed IVF cycle, another one had a miscarriage or another couples adoption just got cancelled right before bringing their baby home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You sit there. And keep thinking how thankful you are. Waiting. Patiently.</span></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">Just a number. And it feels amazing. <br></font>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Much love to my IF sisters and I hope the holidays aren't too hard on you!! I always hated this time of year even though it is my favorite! Drink lots of wine and know I'm waiting for you to join me and my regular basic number status.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Merry Christmas you filthy animals. Much love!</span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-10816475184636996042014-12-05T13:37:00.002-08:002015-02-12T10:55:40.781-08:00Military and IVF Funding Tips with 2 Microscopic Updates<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hello my people. And by people I mean the five of you still tuning in to see if I am knocked up yet.</span><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Since we can't let the cat out of the infertile bag yet I wanted to share some advice on a few things that helped us through this financial IVF roller coaster. Please be aware this is going to be the most boring post to date but I know there are a lot of women out there who can benefit from saving thousands of dollars.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsDAeXtv_S2hqsUVIfrfhtm7uDs60CNXlDE1UpmWD4M2MQKwrpYqDzXDpZ-QQfCWDw8ekHFp3P2yt0WtmHP7MJ2YPVmV6pZ_2a7R8Nkg7HMbxDn0SCCxasIQ6VuW8iDi3_EOPkQ_7sNb1/s1600/001103x8.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsDAeXtv_S2hqsUVIfrfhtm7uDs60CNXlDE1UpmWD4M2MQKwrpYqDzXDpZ-QQfCWDw8ekHFp3P2yt0WtmHP7MJ2YPVmV6pZ_2a7R8Nkg7HMbxDn0SCCxasIQ6VuW8iDi3_EOPkQ_7sNb1/s1600/001103x8.gif" height="180" width="320"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you are a military couple and have looked into infertility treatments then you know that the costs can vary depending on where or what treatment you are seeking. I will speak on IVF of course since that is what we ended up with having to do after our OOP 4 failed IUIs a semen analysis and freezing because my husband was Mr. Deployment for a few years. Puts a new twist on the "Welcome Home I'm Pregnant" signs when he has been gone for 13 months. That is old news and was a waste of money and time in my situation and opinion but nothing we can do now right? Lesson learned. Note to 16 year old self: never pay for and do an IUI while being in the "unexplained" category before having a laparoscopy done if your HSG was bad by 33. </span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_GlFAfQKmkWtjEXvJ9_m8yjGx6Yt0UgXt7KVZBSBtC3pFcE9Zq-v_o8C9Z-wFDvw8szQNjtp_ACatIPWG8DAbMdbVgfvevV3WOoGxlyvW_fAQXItOLrVrB2paTM6f5236kzQeuW17wVG/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_GlFAfQKmkWtjEXvJ9_m8yjGx6Yt0UgXt7KVZBSBtC3pFcE9Zq-v_o8C9Z-wFDvw8szQNjtp_ACatIPWG8DAbMdbVgfvevV3WOoGxlyvW_fAQXItOLrVrB2paTM6f5236kzQeuW17wVG/s1600/giphy.gif" height="180" width="320"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Obviously sometimes the Dr. doesn't care whether or not you are shoveling out hundreds and thousands of dollars into his pockets before actually diagnosing your infertility. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once you start diving vagina first into IVF that is when you start paying alot more out of pocket. If you are lucky enough to be stationed by a <span style="background-color: white; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.3;">fertility treatment facility for </span><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.3;">military such as Lackland Air Force Base in Texas, Tripler Army Medical Center in Hawaii, Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Maryland, Fort Bragg in North Carolina, Naval Medical Center in California, and Madigan Army Medical Center in Washington; those places can save you some big money when doing IVF especially if you have to do more than one cycle. </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.3;">Time on the waiting lists can be up to 12 months but of course that changes so if I were you I would call as soon as possible and get the ball rolling. With Tridoesn't care we all know that you have to wait for a </span><span style="line-height: 18.909090042114258px;">referral</span><span style="font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.3;"> to wait to get another referral for your referral and that process takes months and months just to get in with a legit RE.</span></span></span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizndpEh63zd8l9qzKd8byIjGuxs_wu_aGW08tBaTkxoDCDbWPHrxIBcvBTSZFPoB5Nvr2Il40txEn70rnDtLt8PiyY5T1uwvZB9ZTgKywgHeqGONfXFxo6j4tJsPLcDa2OhMQHtAa0-nr1/s1600/3-waiting.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizndpEh63zd8l9qzKd8byIjGuxs_wu_aGW08tBaTkxoDCDbWPHrxIBcvBTSZFPoB5Nvr2Il40txEn70rnDtLt8PiyY5T1uwvZB9ZTgKywgHeqGONfXFxo6j4tJsPLcDa2OhMQHtAa0-nr1/s1600/3-waiting.gif" height="172" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.3;">All of my </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">diagnostic tests, fertility specialists and certain medications up until IVF started was covered. Minus the driving 5 hours to a specialist in gas and trying to come up with </span></span><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">excuses</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"> at work as to why you need so many days switched or off and you aren't really sure what day the same week that is because it depends on how your body responds to all the drugs can be tricky. But its really none of their effing business. A Dr.'s note is a Dr's note it doesn't matter if you are going to a Podiatrist because you have bunions the size of Mt.Fuji or simply your reproductive parts are broken.</span></span></span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is me at work when someone asks why I am always at the Dr....</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Nonetheless, Dr. Cassels at </span><a href="http://medicine.missouri.edu/fertility/" style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;" target="_blank">Columbia Missouri Center for Reproductive Medicine and Fertility </a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">and his staff will help you cut costs when undergoing treatments. I requested him at my OB referral and I loved him and the staff. They actually care about you and do not treat you like another number orrr dollar bill. They allowed us to have blood work and testing done at FLW(Fort Leonard Wood Hospital) to save us some money. Like the STD/HIV screenings. Even though FLW messed some of them up and we had to end up taking them again at Columbia(a 5 hour drive) and paying 150 dollars out of pocket for the same test if done correctly. But that's none of my business. </span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We first took out a loan and we also did some fundraising on our own once we got our timeline for IVF. I have an esty shop that continues to help along with a raffle I did with prizes which raised around $2500 thanks to a couple of crazy friends who donated almost 75% of that amount by themselves. You can say we have some pretty amazing military framily. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the biggest savings on all the medications which as you know from pictures on my other post are ALOT is from the <a href="https://fertilitylifelines.com/fertility-support/saving-fertility-treatments" target="_blank">Compassionate Care Program</a>. You basically apply to receive a discount on IVF drugs online and they will contact you with how much you have been approved for. We were approved for a 75% discount on certain medications. Usually they will contact you within a week but it took over a month of me calling and resending information. Again I have the worst luck and if a delay or mistake can happen it will happen to me. So most likely it will not with you. Just remember to keep calling and asking if they received your package and if you have been approved yet. Luckily I called and just got my "insurance discount ID number" over the phone the day before my IVF case worker had to order my meds. We had to use Freedom Pharmacy over the phone due to living in Missouri. Their turn around time was within 24-48 hours so that was another plus. Note that not all the drugs you need will be available through Freedom Pharmacy or the pharmacy's listed with the Compassionate Care program but every little bit helps. I was gifted Menopur by an amazing friend MB whom I met on IG. I ended up getting Gonal F for around $400 out of pocket compared to $1500. The rest of the medication I picked up at the pharmacy in Columbia. All together we spent around $1500 for our IVf medications which should have ended up being around $5-$6k just because I filled out an application to the link above after hearing about it from M and K, two ladies I've met online. Our IVF procedure, ultrasounds, blood work and travel expenses driving at 4am every other day so I could be back at work by 2 or 3pm costs us around $8k. We didn't pay for our procedure package until the day of egg retrieval which was $6500. None of our cycle covers anything if it fails or I miscarry later on. We ended up with 4 grade A blastocysts that we froze and we can pay to use next year once we pay off this loan if our cycle fails. That is called an FET(frozen embroyo transfer) it isn't as expensive as a fresh cycle. I think our clinic is around $2800 to do an FET but it's still more money on top of a failed cycle hence the waiting a year.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Seriously I barely got through that without drooling on my keyboard. I probably could have just added a link to Compassionate Care Program and said good luck but my ADD got away with me and besides some people like deats. So you're welcome.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think I left off with saying we were hoping for a 5 day transfer. Well the stars aligned and our prayers were answered. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We transferred two 5 day blasts and are anxiously(understatement) awaiting our 7 week ultrasound appointment on the 10th. #prepareformeltdown</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am still taking my Crinone(progesterone vaginal suppository) and will be for 10 more weeks even though it is <strike>disgusting</strike> awesome and makes me turn in to the Hulk from time to time.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am so thankful for science and being able to take anything Hulkified to keep our growing little bean(s) snuggled inside my body. Those of you who are lucky enough to be born fertile and without broken reproductive parts and never have to take any IVF drugs or pregnancy medications, count your blessings and try to grasp why we want to punch you in the throat when you complain about anything pregnancy related. I read a post "5 Ways Pregnancy After a Miscarriage Is Different" that I have to share because every single thing she said was true. I could add a few more like everytime someone asks how I feel of course I say great or fine I'm not going to cry about anything pregnancy/medication related especially online(I hate facebook enough already) or to anyone so I'm sorry my replies are boring and the same "good" response always. I know I sound like a robot and I appreciate everyone checking on me. I really do. Honestly so far it's been a walk in the park compared to what I've been through. I'm waiting for something bad to happen every second of every day. I've already talked way too much for one post so that's all I would add for now. So </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/meredith-hale/pregnancy-after-a-miscarriage-is-different_b_5974856.html" target="_blank">click here</a></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> if you are still sitting on the toliet and need some more reading material. It might help other fertiles you know understand why or why not we do the things we do or feel the way we feel so you can share it online. Then again like I've always said some people will never get it. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Until next time...and a not so lame post..and hopefully some good news. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ciao.</span></div>
</div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-43511334898551188242014-11-12T12:01:00.002-08:002014-11-13T08:51:21.928-08:00Veterans day cookie and IVF update.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Excuse me while I avoid social media for a few days. Not only is this blog about my infertility but if you read the phrase under my name it includes the word military. There ya go peanuts. It is that time of year again, Veterans Day, not to be confused with Memorial Day(a day reserved for those who gave all but idiots can't seem to understand that concept in our society yet) when people are changing profile pictures or posting photos of someone they know in the military for self gratification or when that person isn't even a veteran.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is holidays like these that I avoid logging on Facebook or Instagram to see people who probably have never donated to <a href="http://goldstarwives.org/">goldstarwives.org</a> or <a href="http://woundwarriorproject.org/">woundwarriorproject.org</a>. They sure do know how to post a picture for likes though. They are taking away from the true veterans out there and its sickening. I only make a point of it because....</span><br>
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1) Someone has to.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2)It royally chaps my ass because the civilian ones I'm referring to, I can guarantee have never donated a damn dime to any fundraiser relating to our military. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3)What about the other 364 days out of the year?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4)</span><br>
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5)Thanks for being on a base with a Pizza Hut one time. #salty</span><br>
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6)</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">#likeaboss</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">7)Veterans day isn't about free meals. Here's a concept how about getting a meal and giving it to a homeless vet.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">8)Last but not least..Just because you are married to a veteran doesn't entitle you to damn thing. You are not a veteran.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Nuke yourself.</span></td></tr>
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If you are or were active duty and have or even haven't been to combat then obviously this doesn't pertain to you. Post away you salt dogs. You deserve more than a like on a facebook picture. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Why are you reading a blog about broken private parts? There are more funny things to read like Dear Dependa II, PogBF's, or JtToTs on the FB just to name a few of my husbands favorites. But you do you. I don't know if I'm flattered or need a shower. But it's funny nonetheless.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br>Sidenote- Federal law defines a veteran as being active duty, some states state 180 days of consecutive active duty services to be considered a veteran, not to get anal but you get my point. Some points need to be made. So those of you posting look at me or this person I know in my playtime dress up uniform for likes need to STAHP. It is freaking incredibly rude and I want to punch you in the face. There are men out there who have jumped on grenades to save their brothers during combat for example this hero Kyle Carpenter ie brave American badass. He jumped on a fucking grenade(sorry freaking wouldn't do) for the love of God. Oh hey I'm at Walmart and someone tosses a grenade by me and someone else. My ass is running as fast as I can like they are giving away free Jimmy Johns outside. But to jump on it to save someone else WHAT!?? I can't even. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They do more than flip pancakes in the kitchen of a navy ship posting selfies of how hard their four years in the national guard or reserves was. If you flip pancakes on a ship don't take it personal. We all need to eat. And I like pancakes. With blueberries or chocolate chips though.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhduwvPyB6vnq2BgW2LFVQrxFONK5uwzh02DrRwa-ktrU2IuZQ7ZURav50a_S1VFXdfeHvSKAv27RfCuzzI-cBSbQxreakaSAc5nhnv2qezF5dBkcw-cgaaNgGdbOcPDlbFYZqbstPQTvR/s1600/frown.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhduwvPyB6vnq2BgW2LFVQrxFONK5uwzh02DrRwa-ktrU2IuZQ7ZURav50a_S1VFXdfeHvSKAv27RfCuzzI-cBSbQxreakaSAc5nhnv2qezF5dBkcw-cgaaNgGdbOcPDlbFYZqbstPQTvR/s320/frown.gif" width="320"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In short I would like to clarify that veterans are fucking awesome. Our Marine Corps(Happy belated Birthday) is bad ass and our military is number one. I tear up at the National Anthem or whenever Taps is played. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYY_pdi8F49bFEjkPTKm8GbE4CSLR0lB543l9UmHsXNSY2JJIvUjz4vyt3SPKno1dWyecLFXtm1k6fLsF3eEzeflC9KAf9xyNTD68rWWUI2LGc6GJ7AGcBygsfB3eGKsfisiNDltqCTAQ6/s640/blogger-image-2123706242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYY_pdi8F49bFEjkPTKm8GbE4CSLR0lB543l9UmHsXNSY2JJIvUjz4vyt3SPKno1dWyecLFXtm1k6fLsF3eEzeflC9KAf9xyNTD68rWWUI2LGc6GJ7AGcBygsfB3eGKsfisiNDltqCTAQ6/s320/blogger-image-2123706242.jpg" width="320"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't need to post a million pictures of myself sitting at home eating Ben & Jerry's, watching the Notebook, posting status' about how my husband is deployed or a veteran trolling for sympathy or likes. I'm not any "cooler" I could care less how many likes or people "follow" me hence why my IG is private. And I hate facebook. And I don't get on IG much anymore so don't take it personal if I'm not liking the shit out of your photos. Here's some to last you for awhile. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGMH5FrIbm3IxjkYoecxNmppmJGZLrJDBqDlq_JvVH3T0gwiTyZzVpbLDhLo6rZ4ACYOO92etcZx92NBwCXpFHoPVvxMy8s3-r5vMpovCSEYQO5NlkyErHTWj-qrFqKLLY865TkOI3zem/s640/blogger-image--595435496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGMH5FrIbm3IxjkYoecxNmppmJGZLrJDBqDlq_JvVH3T0gwiTyZzVpbLDhLo6rZ4ACYOO92etcZx92NBwCXpFHoPVvxMy8s3-r5vMpovCSEYQO5NlkyErHTWj-qrFqKLLY865TkOI3zem/s320/blogger-image--595435496.jpg" width="320"></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All in all I'm a stellar people person and I swear more than my husband thinks is appropriate. So if you have gotten to the end of this post and think I am saying not to honor our "veterans" then you should never read my blog again. Actually you should never read any personal blog. Ever. As in never ever. The ship is out to sea and you are still standing on the dock. Thank you to the badass veterans whom I respect so much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bye.</span><br>
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Lets just keep going with an update.....</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember wondering about how hard IVF would be and if I could do more than one fresh cycle and to be completely honest with you now that I have actually done it I can give a personal opinion. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It fucking sucked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wait for it........but...I could do it at least ten more times if we could afford it. Paying for IVF makes it a million times more stressful and if it were free I would keep doing it over and over until my doctor told me to give up. #truth Yea giving shots to myself in the bathroom at work sucked balls and driving 5 hours just for blood work and a trans-vaginal ultrasound wasn't a pizza party. The raging hormones weren't pretty( I might have ripped a paper map up of the resort where our USMC ball was in the truck and threw it at my husband for a split second) so there's that. But I was fairly normal the rest of the time considering. No constant migraines and my RE is a bad ass and he didn't over stim me with medications and the constant checkups were actually great so I didn't end up with OHSS or any severe side effects. Silver lining to the 1200 miles I drove in 7 days.</span></div>
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And I don't need a pat on the back or I would have posted on my instagram daily shot pictures if that were the case but I think its important to understand why I am <strike>easily aggravated</strike> sound like a bitch about Veterans day and besides the fact that I always speak my mind regardless if my E2 levels were 2800 Saturday morning at my RE appointment.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKIc449pTO60xNI9ANGLNdFtXUXBcpqYA9Lr_koYsGfrbJ7OeRe0AKwbgr1sHpAiPtHzy6AagXNbOweOE-lfFxL1gkdYNXGFzMZm1xiAGw3zcI9fxNu2RgIRWFa2FuOrzuXG_KQO1GIZOb/s400/blogger-image--1543005826.jpg" width="400"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Also that in the second tri your hormones are crazier than the third. Learned something new.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not sorry for being on edge this week if you haven't figured it out, I finished stimming on Saturday. I was driving 5 hours to my IVF clinic at 5am and then coming home and going to work until 10pm and repeat.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I also was trying to squeeze in my etsy business.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Followed by the 3 am night at the Marine Corps ball that evening when we triggered. Worked on Sunday. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So that was fun. This isn't me bragging about working or my etsy. We are actually IVF poor like you. For example...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rloOcVyV3vGn0IpuaACYBHPmK2Iu9e6LPWeVENIs-A46Ux4M8PJoGMsJtJs6tSfb5mJL2r7qCuH_FwgO_mPhS2emT1ctKrBQtgRBR_hu5yHquG66Ay5wTKasE72WD0cBlvM3M49PP8fj/s1600/tumblr_myfk2erBKx1rkyz0ro1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rloOcVyV3vGn0IpuaACYBHPmK2Iu9e6LPWeVENIs-A46Ux4M8PJoGMsJtJs6tSfb5mJL2r7qCuH_FwgO_mPhS2emT1ctKrBQtgRBR_hu5yHquG66Ay5wTKasE72WD0cBlvM3M49PP8fj/s320/tumblr_myfk2erBKx1rkyz0ro1_500.gif" width="320"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Us at our IVF clinic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then on Monday morning at 7:30 am this happened. So if I haven't gotten back to you this week that could explain why. No big deal.</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2b3SOeRPYv5ALtsaMi75cTqvEFKgvlXk_2-0RWOh5AWLmuUecd9YSh2e7OphJq2jXgANP3vf01gaNF0-XFW-U8Ixbr3hWLHbR3mjPZMvQXtxbjRNJVHvH7Pis-41EJXwpSNQIstASN8I/s640/blogger-image-362024035.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I covered my face because there are freaks who like to steal pictures on the world wide web.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2b3SOeRPYv5ALtsaMi75cTqvEFKgvlXk_2-0RWOh5AWLmuUecd9YSh2e7OphJq2jXgANP3vf01gaNF0-XFW-U8Ixbr3hWLHbR3mjPZMvQXtxbjRNJVHvH7Pis-41EJXwpSNQIstASN8I/s640/blogger-image-362024035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></a></div>
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I had 17 eggs on Saturday but when I woke up in recovery Monday, 9 was the number my doctor said were the best ones. Two of them being too big and he already knew they wouldn't fertilize but took them anyways. So really we had 7. Was I a little upset? Honestly hell yes. But 7 is better than 1 and I am not going to be the girl who complains on the blog about only 7 when I know girls who get only 1 or none. It just was more shocking because I responded so well to all the meds and my numbers were great and the ultrasounds showed so many and my only issue so far was the endometriosis so it made me think that there might be another underlying issue with my eggs. Then my doctor called and as of yesterday all 7 fertilized and he had high hopes that they would continue to grow. Huge relief. Thankful for the 7. Moving on. </span><br>
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So now what?</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqUY78UT5qhdzvo4GJ4o3vcxbIb0Ho6z7q1wX2qgGP6wrlPn-QPBqmIczq4-cE9GKC3KrfExGUs9-wRtHQXtTjcT5duddrdAzgAqVCryMLBMG_k4MC1UNPoAfbNTyUll32G74xpI6RD_3/s1600/edf17cefbb4d1ceaa12d2fc22374086a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqUY78UT5qhdzvo4GJ4o3vcxbIb0Ho6z7q1wX2qgGP6wrlPn-QPBqmIczq4-cE9GKC3KrfExGUs9-wRtHQXtTjcT5duddrdAzgAqVCryMLBMG_k4MC1UNPoAfbNTyUll32G74xpI6RD_3/s1600/edf17cefbb4d1ceaa12d2fc22374086a.jpg"></span></a></div>
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Now we wait. Something we are used to. But the waiting isn't very long this time so the anxiety is through the roof at this point. My doctor will call Thursday to let us know if they are growing like he wants and to keep letting them grow until Saturday for a 5 day transfer or if we need to come in that afternoon for a 3 day transfer. We are hoping for a 5 day. But will obviously take what we get. Duh.</span><br>
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I am not sure if or when I will post good or bad news but hopefully you will understand and respect our privacy regarding our results in the next few weeks especially since our family is so far away. And thank you to everyone who has emailed, called, texted, and supported us by donating to our fundraiser or even medication like my girl Megan. You all are amazing and we love you. (not just the estrogen talking)</span><br>
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Until then remember your day isn't as bad as......</span><br>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaev4tNWYH2t4_4jDB5gbofsFxW8LJKje-MVJ0lRmCYLX0j0A9Il3C5CX8o_dPwy9tjIuKeuCUG6HVr3YRNW6sTUvAeq4zvT7YzI_xdDKwwAo9Lvljj6GUOgS0ZV4IosxlYYlbEs-JAU1t/s1600/having-worst-day-ever-12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaev4tNWYH2t4_4jDB5gbofsFxW8LJKje-MVJ0lRmCYLX0j0A9Il3C5CX8o_dPwy9tjIuKeuCUG6HVr3YRNW6sTUvAeq4zvT7YzI_xdDKwwAo9Lvljj6GUOgS0ZV4IosxlYYlbEs-JAU1t/s320/having-worst-day-ever-12.png" width="320"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Being chased by a hippo</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aAyypXbSxOqW1n0fGBf0ADLZqHqyiF2eICY2M_lg5MlgmB6qOSzucM_eS3vdG3P6x_a0CNCVvGt3z9ufcQDCty1adfhYL7rsTKBznOGckIyDUDfp1QHPep4xkn5Up-kqg-iq8fA5IgXT/s1600/30-people-having-worse-day--large-msg-13654490658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aAyypXbSxOqW1n0fGBf0ADLZqHqyiF2eICY2M_lg5MlgmB6qOSzucM_eS3vdG3P6x_a0CNCVvGt3z9ufcQDCty1adfhYL7rsTKBznOGckIyDUDfp1QHPep4xkn5Up-kqg-iq8fA5IgXT/s1600/30-people-having-worse-day--large-msg-13654490658.jpg"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">A bird shitting on your head. Twice.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYfN4YMfvO8qAhJZJATfilUdKLDvTxxbHxgk_97jmK8MH8Mc47yEuR5LnS9CD8NKN4bIY5779QbgdOUq4xaiLf_K6cYtyhW49WVmff8-C0bB4vV5pwNg6wsoUSykklmtkdMLiaB9YJOFx/s1600/051313bynes6sh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYfN4YMfvO8qAhJZJATfilUdKLDvTxxbHxgk_97jmK8MH8Mc47yEuR5LnS9CD8NKN4bIY5779QbgdOUq4xaiLf_K6cYtyhW49WVmff8-C0bB4vV5pwNg6wsoUSykklmtkdMLiaB9YJOFx/s320/051313bynes6sh.jpg" width="257"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Amanda Bynes.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplnaw0fgD8y-7VweBJaebwCc0Q9yi4oFqMxWsPVwijXQB6D_o_Ou0ATYjFAe0nS1dPtpeUusD0EaECTpTT5pE2O1EfWy_M1VaKHKjTI91IdCLWpqscpHdqOWamaXfBSCxgecyCqJ6P0kg/s1600/fails-007-04152013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplnaw0fgD8y-7VweBJaebwCc0Q9yi4oFqMxWsPVwijXQB6D_o_Ou0ATYjFAe0nS1dPtpeUusD0EaECTpTT5pE2O1EfWy_M1VaKHKjTI91IdCLWpqscpHdqOWamaXfBSCxgecyCqJ6P0kg/s320/fails-007-04152013.jpg" width="320"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">This kid with no friends.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-EMX_xGpFv2-32wHTPhQuFymDekboVAncXOxN83QK61aB-61p8xo7nS-QmVxs8pFQCiqxBaeHYkQ6Jgcv7U5rzemcowMV7MnhBHHhPyhJasUhBw9Mle4QD-u_8RG91PT2sSZAFfhUSgx3/s1600/fails_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-EMX_xGpFv2-32wHTPhQuFymDekboVAncXOxN83QK61aB-61p8xo7nS-QmVxs8pFQCiqxBaeHYkQ6Jgcv7U5rzemcowMV7MnhBHHhPyhJasUhBw9Mle4QD-u_8RG91PT2sSZAFfhUSgx3/s320/fails_10.jpg" width="320"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Her shoulder.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrfqEnphdbpR0mDjyfcmg_azrdgt0KBlemHC3ETHzEIB7bMzWQ39wo7npq8-tlJwGYQTdL3B3OBrkQUzz1XDeHjTDgdri_ZYPTfwoeD-hqlrFEUnQP0GLJxoWrG-_HEIgIWb67t8H-_nI/s1600/Having_a_bad_day_0061-326x235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrfqEnphdbpR0mDjyfcmg_azrdgt0KBlemHC3ETHzEIB7bMzWQ39wo7npq8-tlJwGYQTdL3B3OBrkQUzz1XDeHjTDgdri_ZYPTfwoeD-hqlrFEUnQP0GLJxoWrG-_HEIgIWb67t8H-_nI/s320/Having_a_bad_day_0061-326x235.jpg" width="320"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The guy in charge of driving this fork lift carrying a bomb.</span></td></tr>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-45839028499635470652014-10-23T21:39:00.000-07:002014-10-27T18:08:24.624-07:00I don't want to be Snoopy. I want to be a pretty girl.<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you don't watch American Horror then sorry that you don't get my title. But there is a thing called google in 2014. Hurry back. Then remember to netflix it later. I am addicted to that and The Walking Dead and The Voice. That's about it. Good to know. You're welcome. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wrote this last week but after seeing an article with this exact thinking again online I had to hit the publish button. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I knew a couple that struggled for years to become pregnant then they gave up and pursued adoption and then became pregnant naturally with twins."</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Raise your hand if you have heard this more than the number of times you actually thought about being able to afford adoption. Oh look weird my hand is raised. Raise your other hand if it is absofuckinglutely impossible to become pregnant naturally. Again weird. Both hands are raised. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A mermaid riding a unicorn on a rainbow made of skittles is more likely to occur.</span></div>
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Or Mr. T. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Show off. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So thanks for the reminder of how incapable I or women like me, actually are when it comes to getting knocked up without shoveling out thousands of dollars to indure weeks of shots, drugs, traveling 4 hours to dr appointments every other day, the migraines, bloat and side effects from said drugs, including awesome hot flashes and hormonal breakdowns <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">wanting to kill our spouses just because they left the light on in the bathroom. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes. I am so thrilled for John and Jane Doe that they could not only afford adoption but they are now pregnant with twins. Naturally. Let me borrow that rusty knife so I can go carve out my uterus into the shape of a heart and give it to them.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or how about we cut out your tongue so you can never say anything stupid to me ever again? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I get it. Wow. It's a miracle. Congrats. But I really think the fertile world doesn't get that their are many of us that absolutely can never become pregnant on our own. And we always get the ignorant comments by said fertile people that makes us roll our eyes or feel like the new nurse diagnosed with Ebola. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You always hear of a friend of a friend of a friend who this has happened to. For me over the years it has went from annoying yea that will never be me. To now it will never ever be me thanks for rubbing it in. Now that I am the girl with the dragon tattoo. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">...Now that I am the girl with no tubes. It's all I can do to stop from raging out on someone followed with a huge feeling of worthlessness. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't want to be snoopy. I really want to be a pretty girl. I feel like a set of large, dimply ass cheeks for not jumping for joy inside like a normal fertile person would but at least I acknowledge that I should be jumping for them. I just can't right now. Or maybe ever. I'll always be snoopy. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If our baby had made it through my disastrous left tube and I went on to give birth seven months later I wouldn't ever want someone to tell my "story" to another infertile woman in hopes of making them feel better. It simply doesn't work that way. In all my past experiences I still feel the same. Instead just tell them you are sorry. If you know someone who is infertile or had a miscarriage, you don't make them feel better by telling them about anyone else who has "went through" the same thing. You only diminish their pain. I don't even do that to other women and I am infertile. You just sound like you want sympathy or you are trying to one up that person. And who wants to be a miscarriage one upper. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Eww. The worst. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Again just tell them you are sorry.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You don't need to go on about your cousins brothers sister who had three miscarriages then miraculously had some damn twins to an infertile. Just tell them you are freaking sorry for crying out loud. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I keep getting comments and questions about continuing to blog after IVF and delivery of healthy IVF babies. Honestly I would rather be spending all of my free time smothering my problem child(ren) to death with the bubble that is me. Nobody gives two shits about how much sleep I will or will not be getting even though a lot of new parents apparently missed that memo when deciding to reproduce. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm pretty sure at this point with transferring two embryos my husband and I are fully aware of how far up shit creek we are paddling. Literally. That was the decision we made being able to only afford one fresh IVF cycle this decade and given a 30-40% chance of success so that's once again why we chose two(peanut gallery). </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am pretty sure my tubeless, dimply ass will just be staring at them all night if and when they finally arrive like a seriel killer freak wanting to make table lamp shades out of their silky smooth baby skin.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Orrrr I will be crying on the phone for my friends to come over and let me take a shower or a long nap. (You know who you are and you already promised so shutup no going back now). I am not above that. The last thing on the face of this fucking planet I would ever do is bitch on a blog about the common knowledge of how hard having and raising a baby is especially after IVF. I can't even right now.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would love to write about how stupid all the d bags comments out there are after I actually know what it's like to physically give birth and take care of twins all day and night and to finally say I told you so. One of these days that might just happen. Or maybe it won't. Your guess is as good as mine. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Until then just tell the poor girl like myself that you're sorry and quit acting like just because you know a John and Jane you are some how cooler, knows how she is feeling or is making her feel better by saying so and so had a miracle child after adoption. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because you are not. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Again. There are woman that can never have kids ever. Period. Or women like myself who can never have kids without IVF. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Just say....sorry. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You got it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Thanks class. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">IVF meds are coming soon. I start stimming this weekend. I'm sure I'll be all ranty and bawl baby emotional or maybe not. I've heard bad stories and a few ehh. It's not that bad stories. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Either way. I just want to have a successful live birth 10 months from now. Raging hormonalholic with loads of side effects or not. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm starting to see the end of the infertile tunnel and it's starting to feel real.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Enough bitching for the day. Glad you stopped by. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Love your tubeless snoopy. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thanks for not giving up on me yet. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise I'm a good person. </span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-17211099601993843812014-10-09T11:01:00.000-07:002014-10-12T08:52:18.462-07:00Kids Are Assholes. Duh.Oh hey it's me again. Your unfaithful blogger. Sorry I've been cheating on you with life lately aka pretending to be Martha Stewart while people here locally in misery try to have me make them shit for free practically. Anyways that's a whole new post that I would rather save you from.<br>
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Really though, I'm not used to this thing called a husband being around without counting down our days until a deployment or homecoming and it's been fucking awesome. I am thankful for many things in my life even though this tiny corner of my world is placed on a giant pedestal for the world to stand back and judge and form an opinion about me from out of context. </div>
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You see. This corner is but a tiny snippet of the film that is my life. I talk, vent, and share because I know I am not the only person feeling like a bull in a china shop when I complain about infertility costs, our own disfunctional bodies, hearing woman complain about pregnancy, kids and their husbands. Let's not forget to mention the always encouraging "you just wait" statement<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_ZVTtVparn3ou8ppYw7qwhHsDi7rZz20SFL5X1eO5QU23PtUuMIjSeMzJnlgsfV5tvjqPItRmu9Dg1ApYPu9sfOYXBSkWcueyx4t96pr-HR997mm5JTAPI5ed8XJUd2UEnVqTxs8uxg2/s640/blogger-image--1945178080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_ZVTtVparn3ou8ppYw7qwhHsDi7rZz20SFL5X1eO5QU23PtUuMIjSeMzJnlgsfV5tvjqPItRmu9Dg1ApYPu9sfOYXBSkWcueyx4t96pr-HR997mm5JTAPI5ed8XJUd2UEnVqTxs8uxg2/s320/blogger-image--1945178080.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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We all know kids are assholes. Hell babies are assholes too. Tell me something we don't know. Crying and pooping and waking you up every few hours when you just got to sleep. Hello fuckhole it's a baby!!!! Quit bitching about sleep or lack there of to the world because you only look like huge giant pale white assface. I just made that word up for you. You're welcome. No one wants to read about the obvious common sense that comes along with the privilege of being a parent. And I don't even follow your blog or blogs like yours. But I have friends that do just for entertainment purposes and they occasionally send me texts of the links that I would find most fucktardish. So that's that. The few people commenting or reading your insanely stupid posts need to quit patrionizing and lying to you. Or they need help as well. Jury is still out. I do know that you, yes you, should never blog ever. Again. That's for. ever. (Read very slowly so it sinks in) f o r e v e r. </div><div><br></div><div>Then there's the moms that know everything about nothing and judge you because you are mixing up formula instead of popping out a tit. Why can't people just mind their own fucking business. Keep it simple. Is the child being fed? Is he or she clothed and loved? If the mother isn't walking the corner looking for a crack rock with baby in tow then who are you? The breast milk police? I swear people have too much time on their damn hands. I dare someone say something to me if I am not able to breast feed. Double. Fucking. Dare. #pipethefuckdown<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7M3b-UCeTfBJpLx7lI2MaPM4kuJyCuOpIJJmPCd6nkVo42Oq_UKB3jhZM5tSZGRqRbvNANt7OgI1THawJzEcGih06f-9TSHqvRpvBdHnWbBjDe-6wKDyzgypziixV5zfY6s3antNZgiz_/s1600/pipe-the-f-ck-down-o.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7M3b-UCeTfBJpLx7lI2MaPM4kuJyCuOpIJJmPCd6nkVo42Oq_UKB3jhZM5tSZGRqRbvNANt7OgI1THawJzEcGih06f-9TSHqvRpvBdHnWbBjDe-6wKDyzgypziixV5zfY6s3antNZgiz_/s1600/pipe-the-f-ck-down-o.gif"></a></div>
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Point is just because we are infertile it doesn't mean we don't know how much of a pain in the ass babies and kids are. Infertility doesn't discriminate against women who know nothing about babies or children. Many of us are siblings, teachers, nannies, social workers, aunts, and step parents to name a few. You telling me, "just wait and see" doesn't make me want to become pregnant any less. It actually just makes you look like an asshole. I've waited a long time and because you can't control a three year old in the toy section of Walmart, it is actually hilarious to me. I look forward to that day and many like it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7u3zZPrWxc4KLGVAROA7ea0PcTtl6Xr2fYO1wvo7Ubzgd1Wzi_l9F3v59Ca1j_cmGighwOFZl40PBHKmTKXI0lwcHgUHD0NDZThwWkjslLVBDtx00EZdJKJHuyUU9_0HhcsY42ymLJOVG/s640/blogger-image-1004195973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7u3zZPrWxc4KLGVAROA7ea0PcTtl6Xr2fYO1wvo7Ubzgd1Wzi_l9F3v59Ca1j_cmGighwOFZl40PBHKmTKXI0lwcHgUHD0NDZThwWkjslLVBDtx00EZdJKJHuyUU9_0HhcsY42ymLJOVG/s320/blogger-image-1004195973.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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All of the years of waiting, the heartbreak, the dr appointments, the probing, the medications, the shots, the money, the surgeries, the idiot comments. All are worth those days. </div>
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So don't think by you telling me to "just wait until you have kids", is making me want one any less. It actually makes me want one more. Call it perspective I guess. Like when my husband leaves his wet towel on the floor instead of in the hamper in the same room; I don't go out shouting to single girlfriends "you just wait" or log into stupid Facebook to post a status about it. In life there are people who learn that these little things mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. I'm thankful my husband is alive unlike some close friends who have lost theirs. Their strength to keep going day by day gives me inspiration and strength to overcome this tiny corner of my world. I am so thankful to have them in my life. I may never be able to have children. We all know IVF is a 40% chance, but I am still alive and I still have my husband by my side. </div>
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Until we overcome this tiny part of our life I will continue to look forward to the day that my kid(s) are losing their shit in a Walmart toy department smiling, thinking about all the "you just wait" comments pinching myself while mumbling "Is this real life?" </div>
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-dedicated to the stay at home thankless moms, the working moms who have to leave their precious babies, the formula feeders, the breast feeders, the single moms and dads, the cloth diapered and pampers moms, the women who will never be bio mothers, the adoptive moms, the moms who just stay the hell out of other moms business unless a child is being neglected or abused. Thank you.<br>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-90817310354450973082014-08-17T14:19:00.002-07:002014-10-27T17:21:55.451-07:00Nuke yourself. 20 things "I don't" like tag.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmVyxH8oiG_-Uqop2x1TCEMU4NWK1g_yBRyhxvhmKeMETTKzJQi2FM2OqqS3pADmxm3t8J07KhKSngEg9MDgPjR-wJ01MfKFHLIYwom0-3FAtHmbtxCfATWWjinsQomiHx0OlFtUJt2NJ/s640/blogger-image--1472223511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmVyxH8oiG_-Uqop2x1TCEMU4NWK1g_yBRyhxvhmKeMETTKzJQi2FM2OqqS3pADmxm3t8J07KhKSngEg9MDgPjR-wJ01MfKFHLIYwom0-3FAtHmbtxCfATWWjinsQomiHx0OlFtUJt2NJ/s400/blogger-image--1472223511.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So once upon a time I wrote a whole blog post about why I deleted or unfollowed 150 people while I was high on anesthesia but then I deleted it because I really don't care to explain myself so instead I was inspired to make a list of inspiring things that make me want to nuke myself or someone else. Some of the people I accidentally unfollowed but I can't remember who so if 3 or more of these apply to you then it was on purpose. Enjoy!</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My version of the "20 things about me tag" with a nuke twist. Bahh boom.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Nuke yourself if.......</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You have to go to Walmart on a military payday weekend see also "mandatory" military family functions as an infertile. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Nuke myself. </span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(nuke myself are not counted as a yes..wink wink)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My unreproductive system. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Nuke myself(I hope you're catching on now....) </span></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9W1tq9vJ_FvpoOjkYn1_6A5y7a6pJBgLty9gwfHPpOltz-E0Peuj4ql8uRsRm-6Cftxvbjq-bYaNJ0rSfN3Y4SJrH3gKnPk1LkPeLBrekTBEw5-Sl3EiRzIc0gxVm-BZYxac8vu4UC58P/s640/blogger-image-457945303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9W1tq9vJ_FvpoOjkYn1_6A5y7a6pJBgLty9gwfHPpOltz-E0Peuj4ql8uRsRm-6Cftxvbjq-bYaNJ0rSfN3Y4SJrH3gKnPk1LkPeLBrekTBEw5-Sl3EiRzIc0gxVm-BZYxac8vu4UC58P/s400/blogger-image-457945303.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">BFN's. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Nuke myself. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0esbr_HySJFM7QODfIObkcpfnJtn-XKJSO7uSJ2DkxpiVP6L0jmdAyr1TVdghmTp9QCKFgrsNfppPCGSC_fN1vqDpRSbwjYaimLLUFNYbkXgnzt8hWUmrngKD50mc-PU8u_lip3BhzFY/s640/blogger-image-713003506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0esbr_HySJFM7QODfIObkcpfnJtn-XKJSO7uSJ2DkxpiVP6L0jmdAyr1TVdghmTp9QCKFgrsNfppPCGSC_fN1vqDpRSbwjYaimLLUFNYbkXgnzt8hWUmrngKD50mc-PU8u_lip3BhzFY/s400/blogger-image-713003506.jpg" width="400"></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKoCESXGrHuXBgmXqQtbU0tyZBmxtLXHmhHsE4TY9aVVgs3fXkKtFEiWZ_kNTi_fjONUekgEyHehi85vMegwS3TUfHtCu5k6MC3SMPtIcPSPpGJz1fNQ1qopx36ZjqhCVcFHbE9Q5i_BS/s640/blogger-image--1292599554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKoCESXGrHuXBgmXqQtbU0tyZBmxtLXHmhHsE4TY9aVVgs3fXkKtFEiWZ_kNTi_fjONUekgEyHehi85vMegwS3TUfHtCu5k6MC3SMPtIcPSPpGJz1fNQ1qopx36ZjqhCVcFHbE9Q5i_BS/s400/blogger-image--1292599554.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Teen mom and I didn't know I was pregnant episodes.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvpkWxQAqcmYaIhmV8l1yH_wV5Q1uDrDSVtkZ3Wv18yCTBQf4KzOhtLN2nln2sJemaiS6kQBfTM_dAec-2sOdc1Nd8hUnWLODP5gAa52s-1FqAuN0Y_SRCulX6FtN8vUBHjGAu73Bh7q14/s640/blogger-image--1339980317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvpkWxQAqcmYaIhmV8l1yH_wV5Q1uDrDSVtkZ3Wv18yCTBQf4KzOhtLN2nln2sJemaiS6kQBfTM_dAec-2sOdc1Nd8hUnWLODP5gAa52s-1FqAuN0Y_SRCulX6FtN8vUBHjGAu73Bh7q14/s640/blogger-image--1339980317.jpg"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRaqwVEK7ZWqbuxqbMny5MpNc_yPr4FUbRrDdaxepho14dXNfOR54kgJzC7qeVG4r3UIrtvXo6AbBHihdxOWE8_dhIA2cI9Gk54IJym26z_0mX1i7fQHjMGGTpaBntjZnsBbni-YKKhP9G/s1600/Tom-in-Big-tom-hanks-20254899-1024-576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRaqwVEK7ZWqbuxqbMny5MpNc_yPr4FUbRrDdaxepho14dXNfOR54kgJzC7qeVG4r3UIrtvXo6AbBHihdxOWE8_dhIA2cI9Gk54IJym26z_0mX1i7fQHjMGGTpaBntjZnsBbni-YKKhP9G/s1600/Tom-in-Big-tom-hanks-20254899-1024-576.jpg" height="180" width="320"></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1nnugvntcRIC57CSmYGeLfEe7X_03QsbdnZg9G9G1Ax9pWO8_U1NuIISRCnYj9aRY8uH_bn5pzG19eCaDbwNa1O41Wr5ARwMdqpJp09kpM3RZK6v_1GbBwDw1Bvr2McpK2yuc0fuEObX/s1600/10572027_10204688032669414_3285938031292245794_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1nnugvntcRIC57CSmYGeLfEe7X_03QsbdnZg9G9G1Ax9pWO8_U1NuIISRCnYj9aRY8uH_bn5pzG19eCaDbwNa1O41Wr5ARwMdqpJp09kpM3RZK6v_1GbBwDw1Bvr2McpK2yuc0fuEObX/s1600/10572027_10204688032669414_3285938031292245794_o.jpg" height="300" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Our welfare system.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Adoption costing over 25K but millions of babies are born homeless and unwanted every year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The parents of these two. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgaRWetqE9P6cwEVjcN-saZF4-gSyWVAndjpF3-AHaP8MS7VgaoqDzlIUg99C-eORM-ng2pM5exxh9mA1tn5q-tubH35mpImWJhf5J60SwDPgZ3LknGy4D-Yl4TWYMd83SU2orBBPzjGF5/s640/blogger-image-1709713753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgaRWetqE9P6cwEVjcN-saZF4-gSyWVAndjpF3-AHaP8MS7VgaoqDzlIUg99C-eORM-ng2pM5exxh9mA1tn5q-tubH35mpImWJhf5J60SwDPgZ3LknGy4D-Yl4TWYMd83SU2orBBPzjGF5/s400/blogger-image-1709713753.jpg" width="300"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Liberals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cloth diapering. I'd rather nuke myself. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-O-AzId37sErsmnT9tFOecBL7Z4jvvvbs-jEIu-ueCr9imRixTRGu6DbPGN_OhhNiq6og8txbh0tdkFl5sGe6Fs0enIm1_jBza5-JVt4Pmvudah-xmEzN8PB9lCdsMsFOVRvMoUcGUXQH/s640/blogger-image-33753327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-O-AzId37sErsmnT9tFOecBL7Z4jvvvbs-jEIu-ueCr9imRixTRGu6DbPGN_OhhNiq6og8txbh0tdkFl5sGe6Fs0enIm1_jBza5-JVt4Pmvudah-xmEzN8PB9lCdsMsFOVRvMoUcGUXQH/s400/blogger-image-33753327.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Americas criminal justice system. Aka. Cruel and unusual punishment law. You just raped a three year old. Strap him to a post and burn that mother fucker Salem style. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyone who has ever hash-tagged milspo, militarywifey, hardestjobinthecore etc...and thinks it's actually a "job". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who have started a fight or argued on social media with someone else. But that's none of my business. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh18VCofziFmuGmw5LKWyOiUqIPGoxgkAE2ouBisCGM58J4au4OdHJOBXL1fCMszzli3Nguln5rzc7mjWvtPrZVQuHceAbf-OEm3BawXxVVgRep2IPGC2NaasXBukTsAoJ8O9zF4B7a5HcR/s640/blogger-image--1321017657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh18VCofziFmuGmw5LKWyOiUqIPGoxgkAE2ouBisCGM58J4au4OdHJOBXL1fCMszzli3Nguln5rzc7mjWvtPrZVQuHceAbf-OEm3BawXxVVgRep2IPGC2NaasXBukTsAoJ8O9zF4B7a5HcR/s400/blogger-image--1321017657.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cold french fries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Liars. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">See also fake people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Married sluts who cheat on their husbands while they are deployed. Double bah boom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpN2pTbrGN6UK8zxcejDoRGiTPvsksvqOMAhEcRJnpF8LOA5lTp1Q-iCbZv2J7zhhbebD97El9SJy_l6BNvRyp7qKJNdU9vu0GaIwdvsoSqsscO8HPuveoMf8QfzanpJPBlQcnCIaaOTU/s640/blogger-image-1714776244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpN2pTbrGN6UK8zxcejDoRGiTPvsksvqOMAhEcRJnpF8LOA5lTp1Q-iCbZv2J7zhhbebD97El9SJy_l6BNvRyp7qKJNdU9vu0GaIwdvsoSqsscO8HPuveoMf8QfzanpJPBlQcnCIaaOTU/s200/blogger-image-1714776244.jpg" width="200"></a> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpN2pTbrGN6UK8zxcejDoRGiTPvsksvqOMAhEcRJnpF8LOA5lTp1Q-iCbZv2J7zhhbebD97El9SJy_l6BNvRyp7qKJNdU9vu0GaIwdvsoSqsscO8HPuveoMf8QfzanpJPBlQcnCIaaOTU/s1600/blogger-image-1714776244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpN2pTbrGN6UK8zxcejDoRGiTPvsksvqOMAhEcRJnpF8LOA5lTp1Q-iCbZv2J7zhhbebD97El9SJy_l6BNvRyp7qKJNdU9vu0GaIwdvsoSqsscO8HPuveoMf8QfzanpJPBlQcnCIaaOTU/s200/blogger-image-1714776244.jpg" width="200"></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who make their dogs sleep outside. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who don't vaccinate their children. Go hug a tree and die from small pox hippie. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who smoke outside of a non smoking building and I have to walk into it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Getting gum stuck to your shoe. See also stepping in dog shit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Parents that take their kids to an R rated movie. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who talk smack or comment on other peoples sports team on social media. Double nuke if you are a band wagoner or never watch sports unless your team is winning or only your team. Get. A. Life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People in STL rioting over Michael Brown for being the thug he was but not having a clue who Cpl Rob Richards is. Nuke yourself twice. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE0jSSSyhyphenhyphen9Z1jFfMZh6B3xrptGnBHldDVsTCh4kbnJOHPNzjreAxKAg6zgDyYMIrCVeL4aMjS_rDPSNpmP9nRPjS6k_xd3Dz_VDK8qIdCO3UDhFUUhha57vI0wyV2vtjt_ndrjbSIubD/s640/blogger-image-171032688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE0jSSSyhyphenhyphen9Z1jFfMZh6B3xrptGnBHldDVsTCh4kbnJOHPNzjreAxKAg6zgDyYMIrCVeL4aMjS_rDPSNpmP9nRPjS6k_xd3Dz_VDK8qIdCO3UDhFUUhha57vI0wyV2vtjt_ndrjbSIubD/s400/blogger-image-171032688.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">RIP to the heroes like Cpl Richards. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People over 70 who win the lottery. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who grew up in a land locked state. {traveled abroad, military brat, or Great Lakes don't nuke yourself}</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiLUoIqsayXYH2a-Kw0kis0-UgUykTfb3BKhIZeXlxOY1Ko7Lpu3AwMnwIEok_cn3chKzVuhMdPv7k-izBC1AAiJyyrpZhUGflyZSGElfKBlCC6z2ibgaR1rxx6vhN7PDie84gfi57AyY/s1600/Screen-Shot-2012-09-09-at-4.23.26-PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiLUoIqsayXYH2a-Kw0kis0-UgUykTfb3BKhIZeXlxOY1Ko7Lpu3AwMnwIEok_cn3chKzVuhMdPv7k-izBC1AAiJyyrpZhUGflyZSGElfKBlCC6z2ibgaR1rxx6vhN7PDie84gfi57AyY/s1600/Screen-Shot-2012-09-09-at-4.23.26-PM.png" height="295" width="320"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">People who take this post to heart. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWHVDTcfnK_mfEbpG3q283p9O9yOHWfk98kOOounsJarVA4mpTfkPdhxcX_L8d8DTdE2brfFFo3pq_tINjjyZy03wQ_sNNi_cyYeggBaezMLjj5H-j5GSeuK6pUjfi3rldOQRxhJ__pvs/s640/blogger-image-2081238301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWHVDTcfnK_mfEbpG3q283p9O9yOHWfk98kOOounsJarVA4mpTfkPdhxcX_L8d8DTdE2brfFFo3pq_tINjjyZy03wQ_sNNi_cyYeggBaezMLjj5H-j5GSeuK6pUjfi3rldOQRxhJ__pvs/s400/blogger-image-2081238301.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyone selling fat wraps, nail wraps, or any wrap on my news feed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who post bump pictures weeks 4-8. You're either bloated or just fat. The other people commenting how "good you look" are liars. So stop.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who watch CNN, ABC, NBC, or CBS for "news". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Me having to run.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9lF_i1Lwzk_8w7FFH_xurSEmNB2FaEg67xeEjDrzoOi3rUfqcGTf-4cznCV81dAaoOtpYw_u8Eg5ofTOQE6PSXLmfSxpoiZpmdzbxOPG-GUjW2Q-97q5bSHJ5-kuzsfAqIQUC03EYMDG/s640/blogger-image-25347901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9lF_i1Lwzk_8w7FFH_xurSEmNB2FaEg67xeEjDrzoOi3rUfqcGTf-4cznCV81dAaoOtpYw_u8Eg5ofTOQE6PSXLmfSxpoiZpmdzbxOPG-GUjW2Q-97q5bSHJ5-kuzsfAqIQUC03EYMDG/s400/blogger-image-25347901.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Drivers who don't turn right on red. See also people who drive slow in the passing lane and never get over or never use a turn signal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who have multiple baby showers year after year. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOS1hx6NjCbSd9D3fPFvFbK8w3B2yPBLP_qGiT6EZEdISL1NQBXXEvY3lY6Iq_3m2LWGGEyFIg95HXyNdM7MvsiRRY1GfwdtBqEGcqBRMh-vOvUy6ZO8qWgVd5VwE0AHpnl_Rpp3fvfh5Z/s640/blogger-image--109539358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOS1hx6NjCbSd9D3fPFvFbK8w3B2yPBLP_qGiT6EZEdISL1NQBXXEvY3lY6Iq_3m2LWGGEyFIg95HXyNdM7MvsiRRY1GfwdtBqEGcqBRMh-vOvUy6ZO8qWgVd5VwE0AHpnl_Rpp3fvfh5Z/s400/blogger-image--109539358.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People with Christmas countdowns before Halloween. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who get in the express checkout with <a href="tel:273763882" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">273763882</a> things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who are rude to waitresses/waiters. Also see bad tippers.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cancer. F YOU. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People who request to follow me and hashtag #preggoproblems #preggoprobs #pregnantproblems etc etc. And wonder why I don't follow back. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And last but not least people who take 18 years to order fast food or pick out a Red Box. You're not building a rocket. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Good news is tomorrow is Monday! </span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-85579875112072680812014-08-15T19:48:00.001-07:002014-09-18T11:12:26.440-07:00Guilt.<div>This is a post I wrote after surgery a week ago that turned into a rant so I erased half of it but I can't make this shit up so here's some of what happened and a little friend named guilt. </div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There I laid.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">About to turn 34. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Been at this <strike>game</strike> nightmare for almost eight years. Now 100% infertile. Pissing my pants.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wait. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What?</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thankfully I wasn't pissing myself. When I was high in recovery and the nurse guy sitting on the stool next to me was reading me my do's and do nots that I never follow in the first place(am I the only one?) </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I thought, "Am I pissing the bed right now?"</span></div><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">......inside voice, "Holy shit! I am pissing myself and there is nothing I can do about it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yep its coming out and no one even knows it.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh my god. Did they slice a pee line? They totally jacked up my pisser.....</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I lifted the hospital sheet to admire such class when all I saw was a half assed murder scene. Damn it. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This shit is getting old. </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Could you imagine if you shit yourself too?? I consider blood a blessing now thinking about the people that actually shit themselves in hospitals uncontrollably and thank god I am not one of them. Knock on wood....that trick doesn't work. </i></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>This is a week later insert and karma came a knocking. </i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Today I shit my pants a little after being hospitalized, having a million tests done and finally being prescribed 6000 antibiotics and pain pills from a to be determined virus. I'm on day 5 and I'm starving if you want to feel bad. I wouldn't. I'm still alive. Apparently my husband and friend didn't as they texted me pictures from the basement of them enjoying stuffed crust pizza after I sobbed over wanting it while I laid in the hospital bed high on morphine. Rather hilarious. Here is said pizza. </i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5YyALSsEXqOk6zmnHeAXnhpfg0ku8yhny1E00GEmfAZnSKKztrce3Yg3e4rrw6pretxpNgNpUCSHL69mjzAqNTuw4X6IAMtHS0rmZOX1K0F7_mbt2QXXzC_5wTEWASymtdPnB2WfmoWd/s640/blogger-image-941475709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5YyALSsEXqOk6zmnHeAXnhpfg0ku8yhny1E00GEmfAZnSKKztrce3Yg3e4rrw6pretxpNgNpUCSHL69mjzAqNTuw4X6IAMtHS0rmZOX1K0F7_mbt2QXXzC_5wTEWASymtdPnB2WfmoWd/s640/blogger-image-941475709.jpg"></a></div><br></i></span></div><div><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And this is why I don't feel sorry for myself. I have these guys telling me to suck it up and quit being a vagina. And I love them for it. Even though did I mention I haven't eaten in three days minus some crackers but every 30 minute trip to the bathroom takes care of those. This too shall "pass".</i></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>...back to last weeks post</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Nurse/Dr/Army guy/I don't know what his job title is; was going over how much the next 4-6 weeks are going to <strike>suck</strike> be awesome and then me also pointing and laughing at my husband when Mr. Unidentified told us no sex for 2 weeks.</span><br><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I don't remember the part about the sex talk but my husband reassured me that even on drugs I am still a smartass. It's so true. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I interrupted him...</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Good news is I didn't piss myself," I looked up and said, "I'm bleeding."</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I like to keep things real but mostly funny and awkward. Sorry not sorry?</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So the nurse guy handed me a twin sized mattress pad and exited the curtain area as he called for a female nurse. I don't know if it was because he didn't want to see my bloody vagina or if he didn't want to see my bloody vagina. Either way I laid there for a bit and started half assed crying. Just the type of crying where the tears are streaming slowly that you can wipe them away quickly not the Kim K. ugly cry.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It had sank in completely. There was no turning back now. The weight of IVF having to be successful in order to have biological children and it's whopping 40% success rate forever more was here and it was streaming down my face and evidently between my legs. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Infertility drowns me with the weight of guilt. I see infertility stories of other couples that say MFI or male factor infertility and I wish for a moment I could use that line and lift the guilt off my back. My husband isn't broken as you already know with his "above average" counts. I think about what it would be like to be perfectly fertile and it be him with broken sperm. All of them drinking rum and cokes swimming backwards and shit. When you have no sperm or low sperm its pretty cut and "dry". I do daydream about not being broken from time to time and not having all the guilt riding piggy back. It feels in that moment for me very uplifting to be honest. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now never in this century or the next would I ever wish that on my husband. I'd rather be the broken one. But something I have never talked about on my blog specifically with my infertility since it is 1000% my fault. Is guilt. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I know <b>people not in my shoes </b>will say..."well blah blah blah...infertility is infertility Rachel." </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Horse shit. It is different for every person and every couple. Some stories make me feel less guilty and sad for others. Not many anymore but there are a few. And most of the time...I'm like ehhhh so when did you meet? And you're how old? And IVF is covered. Must be awesome. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The guilt never changes. It will always be my fault. It never lessens or is passed to anyone else. However unfaulting and out of my control it is. No matter how much my husband loves me in sickness and in health. It is there. Wrapping it's heavy suffocating arms around me. </span></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">I can't wait for that moment when I am looking at our tiny little bab(ies) and to know how much all of this has been worth it. I can be free from it's arms. I can say things like, remember that time when I was childless and bitter. I can't wait to hashtag #teamnosleep or #preggoproblems. (Insert sarcastic resting bitch face)</font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">One day our kids are going to ask for an iPhone 20 and we will say back in my day we played outside and built forts and then he/she(or both) will storm off slamming their door shouting how much they hate us and how much we don't love them. Then I'll walk my mean uncool mommy happy ass upstairs and slip the bank statements for their IVF bills under their door. Boom. Hate on that. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">I can't wait to not feel guilty avoiding baby showers or deactivating my Facebook once a month. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">No more draining me of my empathy for others type of guilt. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">No more driving hours to see a specialist and have him look at my follicles through a vaginal ultrasound guilt. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">To not feeling guilty for telling friends and family we can't visit or vacation because IVF and affording said IVF babies is our vacation. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">No more pokes or pills of hormones that make us bat shit cray for our husbands to live with. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">The worry of will our future children ever get to know our parents and grandparents. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">Guilt. Simple and wholesome guilt. </font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, serif">You nasty little thing. I can't wait to get rid of you. </font></div>
<div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Namaste. </span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-33267988924410956502014-08-12T02:32:00.001-07:002014-08-12T05:08:37.324-07:00I am not this "mother" you speak of?<div><br></div><div>"I think that once you go through labor, you have a completely new respect for mothers. Only we will ever truly know the pain and hard work it takes to bring a child into this world. Welcome to our club." ~Mrs. F</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>That was a comment I read yesterday on Facebook. As bold as it is to post so publicly without any regards to the 1 in 8 infertile women out there. I realize there are so many woman that haven't the slightest clue what real pain and labor of love to becoming a mother is while being fertile. The Mrs. F's of the world is why I keep blogging. </div><div><br></div><div>I was scrolling over the comments on a beautiful picture post from a close family member who recently had her baby and she shared online for everyone to see and read. I was in love and was reading all the sweet comments and congratulations when the words from that comment stopped me and it seemed as if everything was quiet and my ears went deaf. The hospital room felt as if it closed in on me and silence was all I could hear. Each word began to singe my heart as I re-read the comment over and over again. The room felt like it was slowly starting to spin. "<b>Only WE</b> <b>TRULY</b> know pain," I read again with conviction and tried to shrug it off for hours but the words seemed to pierce right through me as I laid in that hospital bed about to have my laparoscopic bilateral salpingectomy(double fallopian tube removal)and I tried to break the words down to make them less harsh but as I read each line they just became worse every time. They were taunting me like some sick mind game played by a serial killer. I wanted to lash out, yell, curse and comment right away and "put her in her assuming, uneducated and heartless fertile place." But that wasn't me. Typically it was but not in that context. Popcorn anyone? I promised my dignity I would wait until after surgery to gather my thoughts. </div><div><br></div><div>Blogging is my go to for infertility not fighting publicly on social media with seemingly nice women. Maybe she shouldn't be faulted for not having the common sense to choose different words. Or maybe she really felt this way? Did she? How could she? I didn't want to believe it. My brain flipped a switch and I immediately seen red because it is something that hits so close to home. Rage started to consume me. </div><div><br></div><div>I tried to break down and understand what she was trying to say. Instead of a simple, "Congratulations or what a beautiful picture!" like everyone else. Mrs. F made it a point to seclude birth mothers as a whole by stating, "after labor you have a new respect and we are a <b>CLUB</b>" and "<b>ONLY WE</b> will ever <b>TRULY</b> know the <b>PAIN</b> and <b>HARD WORK</b> it takes to bring a child into this world." Those words stuck out the most as I said them out loud. She was saying those lines to me. That is how I took it. Personal. And now I was also hurt. </div><div><br></div><div>I thought about my friends whom I have become close with who can never have biological children but have adopted and my heart was sad for them and for their children. Are they not loved and respected just as much? Are they not hard working mothers who love and labor just as much. </div><div><br></div><div>You see Mrs. F, I couldn't disagree more with that comment even if I had a lifetime to argue; and I would, believe me. I have so much "respect" as you called it for mothers already. Surrogates, adoptive moms, foster moms, miscarriage and still birth mothers, single parents, moms that are dads, grandmother moms, moms who choose adoption over abortion and yes birth mothers who are blessed to carry their babies to full term just like my mother. God bless them all. What strong women and men they must all be to choose to raise a child up in such a harsh world and mold him or her into someone with dignity, respect, love, humanity, humility and grace. So much respect it is insurmountable. </div><div><br></div><div>The second half of the comment Mrs. F is I wasn't sure if you meant physical "pain" or emotional pain. But you did use the words, "only we will ever truly know the pain and hard work to bring a child into this world." So let's use both since we are all Gods children, but he must not know this "pain" you speak of???</div><div><br></div><div>I am being completely honest with you here Mrs. F when I say: </div><div>I am not this "mother" you speak of. </div><div>I have never given live birth and physically labored a living healthy child into this world. But I do know the "pain" you speak of. </div><div><br></div><div>After seven years of, walking, more like fighting in my shoes, seeking multiple Drs and REs, paying for multiple infertility procedures, having them all fail while a husband was deployed to Afghanistan in combat; not once but four times, watching grandparents and friends pass on to never to meet our children, or choosing not one but two surgeries one which today removed my Fallopian tubes. Which currently the "pain" <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">pills are only making me tired and not easing the swelling or gas shooting up my back and shoulders from the surgery. I now have six incisions on my stomach not just three. I lay here bleeding again on top of three towels while my husband who is also my best friend of nine years waddles me to the bathroom and consults my pains and dries my tears. Those tubes that are </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">required for me to become this "mother" you speak of are gone and now after recovering from this surgery we fight on to shovel out $15,000 dollars on a chance to be part of that "club" you talk about with no guarantee. This of what you called, "hard work and pain only "we" truly know," you speak of would never compare to even just a fraction of our "pain."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But I am not this "mother" you speak of. </span></div><div><br></div><div>I do know a mothers pain Mrs. F. </div><div>Deeper than the ocean and wider than the valleys. A pain larger than I could ever attempt to describe to you before you could understand in this lifetime. </div><div><br></div><div>I feel that pain everyday. Not a day goes by where there isn't a moment that I don't know that pain you speak of. Pain in the physical sense is temporary. Pain when you finally are pregnant after years and years after multiple tests and ultrasounds telling you that you will have a baby is heart breaking. Only to lose everything you fought years for during an ectopic miscarriage. Gone. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Now that pain Mrs. F, that pain is <b>forever</b>. </span></div><div><br></div><div>But I am not this "mother" you speak of. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Grief and the loss is forever. It is hidden in the depths of our crevices. Packed down deep seeping out like the early morning fog in the fall. Cold and crisp. You can feel this pain. Emotional physical pain. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">However during a healthy live birth. You get to experience such overwhelming joy especially if you've been waiting years for something when you are finally blessed to give birth to a child. I could never diminish that joy to the pain I've felt for so long in my life from infertility. But the joy could diminish the pain. I believe. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">At least in the physical sense yes we all understand how painful it must be to give birth because it is just scientific common sense that you know going into becoming a mother. Trying to squeeze a bowling ball out of a water hose isn't the most physically pleasing ideal a person would want to take on. But does this mean mothers giving birth via cesarean do not know this "pain" or "hard work". How about the ones with epidurals or no drugs? Is there a different club for those "mothers" too? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I do know that you do not wake up feeling that physical "pain" everyday for the rest of your life. I have multiple nieces and nephews and cousins. I have stayed overnights in hospitals after births. Vaginal and emergency ceseraean. All tempoary pain. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But the pain of loss I can assure you I absolutely do feel everyday. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">That sadness. The emptiness. That failure of loss and longing to carry a child naturally on my own. That "hard work." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The grief. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The loss. The defeat. It may not be all day and honestly maybe only for a minute at times or less but it is there. The thoughts of that pain. However we must carry on. Life doesn't stop for our loss as we must keep living. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I would rather comment and say to someone who has given birth publicly. Congrats! You get to experience so much joy. A miracle. A blessing. Everyday is life and love you share together. Snuggles and smiles. Happiness. To enjoy every minute of being alive and being able to watch their baby grow and teach them to learn but the greatest is love. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I can't say giving birth is the worst pain I have ever felt Mrs. F. I already know a pain and club that you did not speak of. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">They are called miscarriage and infertility. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div>I am sorry Mrs. F. </div><div><br></div><div>But I am not this "mother" you speak of. </div><div><br></div><div>Or am I?</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>~Dedicated to my "mothers" everywhere. </div><div><br></div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-61928906062143488712014-08-10T21:00:00.001-07:002014-08-10T21:09:17.129-07:00Bye Fallopicia<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't always go full infertile but when I do I start with kicking out my tubes. Byeeee. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpz51Kb8LG4QdmVyE6gj_r_SDbci5d5USs8Gep7mM4ng1hqZWvJxpuPDrCWKg2cdufoh4cOtbtjN30h5fPuNg4RNl6rI2m5DRagj8sIBdNHKwKCUNyBHdkaQn9m2pVGGxp5VWFQk2E_2j/s640/blogger-image-143705852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpz51Kb8LG4QdmVyE6gj_r_SDbci5d5USs8Gep7mM4ng1hqZWvJxpuPDrCWKg2cdufoh4cOtbtjN30h5fPuNg4RNl6rI2m5DRagj8sIBdNHKwKCUNyBHdkaQn9m2pVGGxp5VWFQk2E_2j/s400/blogger-image-143705852.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So it's the night before D day. Demolition day if you will. After tomorrow I can finally say to the peanuts that I will never be able to conceive after hearing for the thousandth time "well so and so tried for years then adopted twins from China and then miraculously got knocked up." Well sister friend it ain't happening ova here! Zero, zilch, nada, no, nope, uh uh, 0%, impossible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I left from my last post at my appointment in Columbia with my new RE who is awesome and will be doing our IVF; saying I was getting my tubes removed(laparoscopic salpingectomy). I don't need to explain why for the peanuts but just to share a few important reasons let's walk down that road. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Reason number one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">AMerica and freedom. Duh.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMiNPsgRNFjMwnwdJz5_pUU-hXUD8Gs4SGB3TSBSX7cd2WYcZP82fX_G3Xjp0cghvOWyZYwXynXO3VCSTe_5SXRPRofe2gjXvB1bqGhfRRKVfs90P0LlE2C_LXFAQM9lTGvFRsIN3WCeY/s1600/8FnDCb4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMiNPsgRNFjMwnwdJz5_pUU-hXUD8Gs4SGB3TSBSX7cd2WYcZP82fX_G3Xjp0cghvOWyZYwXynXO3VCSTe_5SXRPRofe2gjXvB1bqGhfRRKVfs90P0LlE2C_LXFAQM9lTGvFRsIN3WCeY/s1600/8FnDCb4.gif" height="240" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But really.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My tubes are like the reality tv garbage of entertainment. Straight up trash. Little worthless attention whores with no talent. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-rTYEF37Nv6GrT2qtfrvOcx0cJ2Cqgv4OkkeCaWQ4iEgjD1rZaiV2ZlhIXxN_NW45Pyzr3QIu8RZ7t-97-AepeIzbmQGLMbx47AqV7cIkOSwXnC6CPAzlLa3dNK6OfFUXT_uEDswxlXn/s640/blogger-image-494665183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-rTYEF37Nv6GrT2qtfrvOcx0cJ2Cqgv4OkkeCaWQ4iEgjD1rZaiV2ZlhIXxN_NW45Pyzr3QIu8RZ7t-97-AepeIzbmQGLMbx47AqV7cIkOSwXnC6CPAzlLa3dNK6OfFUXT_uEDswxlXn/s400/blogger-image-494665183.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They are just down there hanging out not being a productive member of my reproductive society. They are all like, "hey look at me over here catching all theses babies and having you to abort them because I suck and I am worthless!" Recurrent ectopic miscarriages is at an awesome 70% chance every time for me. So enough said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Reason number two. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Other than not ovulating on my own(tubes again most likely mixed with endo) I am heathy otherwise. Since we are shoveling out all this money for IVF we most definitly want to have the "healthiest" environment for IVF. So getting rid of these dusty and busted pipes with whatever else is inside or around them is a positive and leads my RE and OB to believe it is best. I do not need tubes for IVF anyways since the embryos are implanted into a womens uterus skipping over the fallopian highway. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Reason number three. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cancer runs in our family and studies have been shown to decrease that risk with the removal of the Fallopian tubes. Hello. Who likes cancer anyways. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok so number one was the biggest and only reason I needed. But hearing both doctors explain all of the above was reassuring. I really feel like my RE in Columbia and OB here at Fort Leonard Wood really care about us having a successful and healthy live birth. They are both understanding that it is not cheap and if cost wasn't an issue it would be 95% less stressful and much easier to get through. The doctors and nurses have been offering caring advice and consults and are working together to cut us some costs. Who doesn't love that? This IVF business isn't a guarantee. You go home with a car once you take out the loan. But just because we shuffle out 15k dollars doesn't mean we will be strapping a baby(ies) in a car seat nine months later. Lets not even talk about having to pay for more than one cycle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yea we already know it will be worth it. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmDDS2plKJ4O_9wN8dgGBgTF7cEJWpPu4928PXBF8oJCKavW1e3ApolihW74d1AaOgs3OEUQGsvo9Mw3friCkT0QgUXuny7DFKEN3LKAkH8eI_Zl6_RQojR0g82TlJWzFZTu9JAbMuwgN/s1600/tumblr_lm71sjXg9U1qjsbewo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmDDS2plKJ4O_9wN8dgGBgTF7cEJWpPu4928PXBF8oJCKavW1e3ApolihW74d1AaOgs3OEUQGsvo9Mw3friCkT0QgUXuny7DFKEN3LKAkH8eI_Zl6_RQojR0g82TlJWzFZTu9JAbMuwgN/s1600/tumblr_lm71sjXg9U1qjsbewo1_500.gif" height="140" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That is easy to say when you aren't the one writing that check waiting on your blood results to come back after seven years either. <b>Bye.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So that is our biggest stress and it will be until oh let's say about 11 months from now. All we can do is hope and pray that our blessings are coming soon and stay positive while we wait or whatever it is those optimists say.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am first of all completely in shock that it is happening so soon! Tomorrow!?? Wait what?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8rhc1iKiVQqWRl5-pmEL7gm5QcNThTcwngPE6CxDstNpLP0SxVcPbfjpa2VFd2rfa9DIK7wcBOkLoVMitiM8gtZC3e7bBTTMdxsWNYLzSIMvBNw2sTW6JODQD8_HbesEF1T776YAtaL4/s1600/Excited-GIF.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8rhc1iKiVQqWRl5-pmEL7gm5QcNThTcwngPE6CxDstNpLP0SxVcPbfjpa2VFd2rfa9DIK7wcBOkLoVMitiM8gtZC3e7bBTTMdxsWNYLzSIMvBNw2sTW6JODQD8_HbesEF1T776YAtaL4/s1600/Excited-GIF.gif" height="233" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What happened inside my head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know!!! I called my OB(twice) but that's another story. I had to call back because a reshitshonist didn't have a clue about me telling her "I just needed to know if Dr. P(my local military OB) got Dr.C's(my RE in Columbia two hours away) email about cutting my tubes out and asking if he could do the surgery locally?" So after hanging up frustrated with her stupidity and for wanting me to wait a month for an appointment to ask a question I called back. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Persistence ladies. Keep calm and always call back. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHofG4g-Xsnd3pFPr_gj31N9y4ud-mK_h2WZy7OBy3dyk7p2KZGDqjB9pXcZgka2goIFBe8Fx8sc7vXAzfr1TgkZr3MCc6mLPjTkQh7anmQBZYV5OYooLSH_LR6G-PvfjIPA5cAbSDhUl/s1600/khaleesi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHofG4g-Xsnd3pFPr_gj31N9y4ud-mK_h2WZy7OBy3dyk7p2KZGDqjB9pXcZgka2goIFBe8Fx8sc7vXAzfr1TgkZr3MCc6mLPjTkQh7anmQBZYV5OYooLSH_LR6G-PvfjIPA5cAbSDhUl/s1600/khaleesi.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I called back. Talked to my nurse. And two days later(this past Friday)was sitting face to face with the Dr. P(did I mention who is awesome)asking me when I wanted to cut these jerks out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Like. A. Boss. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hello. Can we do it now? It was 1pm on Friday so a surgery was out of the question. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He said, "How about Monday?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Shut up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Really...shut up was my first response to the man with a PhD who was going to cut out my tubes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Let me make six phone calls and I'll come right back."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So here I am. The phone calls obviously went well. I think I told him he was amazing about thirty six times before leaving his office and skipping off to pre op paperwork and then down to labs for some more blood donations and a little peeing in a cup action(I am a pro at both FYI after about a million of each I think we should get some type of ribbon for accuracy and or not flinching. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I mean who gets excited for blood draws. Most of the time we dread them and are super anxious but this time was different. When my number was called at the lab I hopped my ass up in that seat so fast dangling and kicking my little legs throwing my arm up on the chair rest smiling at the nervous 18 year old army kid like I was about to be given the Nobel Peace Prize.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think I was on an endorphin high for a few hours following. I could have T boned a four star general that day after leaving the hospital on base.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What does all this tubal talk mean in the grand scheme of things? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's huge. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If we are talking time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was assuming I would have these shits cut out in September/October pushing IVF to February/March. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hello recovery 4-6 weeks then we can start IVF! Finally. Hopefully. Let's get through the surgery all in one piece. Especially my uterus and ovaries remaining intact then we can write about shots and meds and labs for IVF. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will try to update y'all this week with how everything went. Thanks for all the sweet comments and emails too!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One. Step. Closer.</span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-27019136580063164942014-07-25T11:50:00.001-07:002014-07-25T12:33:02.805-07:00Infertile gym selfies and no self control<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Let me start by apologizing to the gang of reporters writing my biography. I'm sorry I don't take a hundred selflies at the gym so you know I actually go to the gym. This is the I workout gym post about not posting about the gym....post.<br>
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Wait. </div>
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What??<br>
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Seriously. If I had a dollar for every how do you stay so in shape question I wouldn't be bitching about the cost of IVF. </div>
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Instead I would have the twins paid off and they'd be starting second grade already. Hash tagging the shit out of #twinning. Just kidding. Hash tagging the shit out of #whatthehellwerewethinking.<br>
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Not really. But. Reallllyyy. <br>
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That was my attempt at letting the peanut gallery know how many embryos we are hoping to be transferring. Uno, deuce. You got it peanuts. Two. </div>
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"Why?"</div>
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Because I said so!!!!</div>
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Sorry. Just practicing for the future. How'd I do?</div>
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But really. Why not? </div>
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We will have waited a billion years by the time our <i>hopefully </i>2015 babies are born. And we would be more than ecstatic with just one. I can't even wrap my tiny little brain around having two.<br>
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<i><b>To be done</b></i> with struggling with infertility every day. To close the book. Wam bam thank you for paying for one and you get two blessings mam. It was a no-brainer for us. And<b> every </b>couple chooses differently for different reasons. As they should.</div>
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This is of course if everything goes as we plan. Hopefully, if, depending on, planning, try, maybe, praying key words in our life until the above happens. Which it doesn't always as we have learned. It's not "our" plan remember. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Points to the sky. </i></span></div>
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But that is the decision we have made. Not that I need to explain that to anyone. If you want to transplant a turtle shell to your back, change your name to Michelangelo and take orders from a rat. By all means. Turtle power. Freedom and liberty man.<br>
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Way off track. Always. </div>
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Oh yes speaking of rats.<br>
Gym rats..... </div>
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I would like to think good genes have something to do with my body at 33(which is far from old) but this ship isn't the ole', "hey I'm 18 and I'll eat this whole pizza tonight, never workout and still have abs." </div>
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Fucking prison. </div>
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So to the gym I go and eating<strike> boring salads</strike> lots of meat while trying to side step every carb in sight it is.<br>
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Let us not forget to mention the healthier you are, the easier it is to become Pregnant! </div>
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Allegedly.</div>
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So in hind sight I guess I can thank my infertility for keeping me in shape theoretically. Knowing we are planning on transplanting two embies and wanting to be the healthiest possible for those babies and myself is honestly the first priority. Also by the time our kids are playing sports and running around like the wild banshees they will be; we will be approaching 40<span style="font-size: x-small;">(yuck)</span>. Lets not leave out my gym rat husband who at 31 gets a six pack from eating a protein bar. Stupid motivator. Plus I feel great about how I feel and that's not such a bad thing when life takes a dump on your "plans".</div>
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This ship isn't in shape from bulimia or starvation for those of you hoping I had another disease to go along with infertility. </div>
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I'll take an infertility happy meal with a large bulimia and a diet anorexia please. </div>
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"That will be $15,000 and a short life mam."</div>
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What a steal. And I didn't even use a coupon.</div>
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That thrifty life tho.</div>
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So there you have it. Working out and eating healthy for years over here you little novelist you.<br>
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Snooze button. </div>
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Occasional there's this thing called the weekends that pop up out of no where and I'm like. Hold up. Wait a minute. What do I do with all this awesome food?<br>
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Duh. Eats everything in sight. </div>
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And then a Kim K.'s ass sized amount of regret on Monday while hoards of chocolate and cheese seaps out my pores as I watch the time creep by with each running step on the treadmill laughing at my weekend of gorging hell. </div>
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"Ha ha ha. Fatty. Bet you will never do that again," my <strike>treadmill</strike> conscious whispers.</div>
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Never. Again. I tell myself out of breath. <br>
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With each pounding sweaty step.<br>
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I. Would. Rather. Dieeeeee. </div>
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And then I do the exact same thing the very next weekend. </div>
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Speaking of weekends I would like to share that we will be experiencing our first Missouri float trip this weekend. It involves a river, sunshine, friends, and tubes/rafts. Adult beverages are a given.<br>
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But since I'm "cleansing" water it is.</div>
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Hopefully karma will be avoided for me making fun of central MO being a blackhole and this weekend will not end in me drinking too much"water", falling off of my tube and drowning on the Roubidoux as forever an infertile. Cheese pores and all. </div>
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...............to be continued.<br>
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I hope. </div>
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ps. We had our first appointment in Columbia where we will be doing our IVF. First thing on the agenda is to remove my tubes. So depending on when I can get these fuckers cut out of me and recovered is when we can start. I would have them slice and dice me tomorrow but that's not the way it works at a military hospital especially when they don't even cover any type of infertility. So as soon as I get a call from my OB here I will let y'all know when we will be starting IVF. It could be October or it could be February depending on the tube situation and the holidays and the weather. Deep breathes for waiting another six months(maybe). </div><div><br></div><div>pss if you do take a hundred gym selfies and post them everyday. Keep it up. What's wrong with being in shape? Why is everyone so mad at fit people. Oh wait because they are lazy. Someone can just unfollow that shit if it's not their cup of tea. Just like me and people who complain about pregnancy, kids, or their husbands. That's not the point I was making. Just to be clear. </div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-37969077531004812392014-07-16T12:24:00.002-07:002014-07-21T15:51:54.742-07:00Back to school called. They want your ovaries.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was five seconds away from a full blown panic attack this week in the classiest of places. Yep you guessed it. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Walmart. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was just running in to get a few crafty things for my Etsy when I ran into a Crayola display knocking over fifty boxes of stupid little crayons<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(that I didn't pick up..ha ha...take that infertility)</i> </span>side tracked by the huge yellow signs and twelve isles that threw up notebooks, pens, and paper. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Damn it. Is this shit really happening again!??</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had tweeted awhile back. "You know you're old when your high school friends are enrolling their kids in high school. Hashtag old. Hashtag infertile. Hashtag scrambeld eggs. Hashtag bitter." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If we could go ahead and cancel "back to school", Mothers Day, Fathers Day, Easter and Christmas that would be just great. Thanks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Those five reasons right there makes it absolutely impossible for me to understand "secondary" infertility. Sorry? Maybe it is because I already understand the reality of my infertility at almost 34(bah bah bahmm). We are only affording ourselves one obnoxiously overpriced crock of shit billion dollar greedy industry IVF(<i>tell us how you really feel)</i> so if we are successful with just one I will thank my <strike>lucky blessed fertile gods</strike> God every day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And myself and husband for the emotional and physical hell we are about to endure for a chance at this gift. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">True mother trucking story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And the embryologist for knowing his/her shit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wanted to have kids since I was very young and not just one. More like 4...teen. Thats the thing with infertility. People ask me often "how long have you been trying." For me mentally I have had the desire and longing to be a mom since I was young. I was told in high school that I would come back to class reunions with five kids running around <strike>annoying the shit out of everyone</strike>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Way to prove them wrong infertility. Thank you. Asshole. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Silver lining is I would have never met my husband in 2004 and would be stuck in a dead end <strike>unhappy relationship</strike> divorced with 4 kids.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"You're welcome Rachel."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sincerely,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Infertility.(<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">bitch</span></i>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But the reality that keeps <strike>slapping</strike> drop kicking me in the face every time something like this rolls around is that time does not stop for anyone and with it goes the holidays and your friends and families kids getting older while you enjoy sleeping in, adult dinners and doing whatever the hell you want without annoying little shits tagging along fucking up your perfect day. <span style="font-size: x-small;">That is just disgusting. Who would ever hope for such a dream.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But really.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqfSyB2MLAZayYPzS0Hgx3cbk_iVtC0ZjE2ZT1QVweTuFGTBHYxxOMtDwuMeLv-u_FPIq_R3MdP5MNbFk9qaVX0Tj44P-XGLcMIiuhornMmQ__ciYUr681AAv2XyFXIXopkBMLhqiTcsK/s1600/old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqfSyB2MLAZayYPzS0Hgx3cbk_iVtC0ZjE2ZT1QVweTuFGTBHYxxOMtDwuMeLv-u_FPIq_R3MdP5MNbFk9qaVX0Tj44P-XGLcMIiuhornMmQ__ciYUr681AAv2XyFXIXopkBMLhqiTcsK/s1600/old.jpg" height="320" width="257"></span></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where is my back to school list damn it? Oh here it is......</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Back to school on reading an infertiles mind:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pretty much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">...even this end cap is mocking us. Therapy much?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are no book bags to be bought. No <strike> ridiculously long and expensive </strike> fun school lists to cross off. No first day of school pictures with the cute Pinterest printables you forgot to print so you scribbled on a notebook piece of paper the morning of. No little league games to cheer at. No prize Easter eggs to hunt. No cards for mommy and daddy telling them, "how mutch you luv thim, exspecalee win u giv me kake". No tooth-fairy dust to leave. No summer beach vacations building sand castles, lathering on bottle after bottle of unwanted sunscreen then hauling 200lbs of crap to the beach and even though you bought the more expensive cooler with wheels your shit is still dragging like you are pulling a 757, while your six and seven year old are screaming their feet are burning because they took their shoes off like you told them not too(true story). No special pajamas to open on Christmas Eve or reindeer food to leave. No.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWU2tY7hQrHSodXrZgIcHVZPa2a0_EMK_lTQtchn3NWeJ58geg8Vg8o1fWE-WYdI7cChRbUvqy5xDFV8tU5k8FDlXZ0HhETvUb7WV4c2wI91PFHMBALQnzK00wiKvbC-2R1GGjIx-DyIOs/s1600/forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWU2tY7hQrHSodXrZgIcHVZPa2a0_EMK_lTQtchn3NWeJ58geg8Vg8o1fWE-WYdI7cChRbUvqy5xDFV8tU5k8FDlXZ0HhETvUb7WV4c2wI91PFHMBALQnzK00wiKvbC-2R1GGjIx-DyIOs/s1600/forest.jpg" height="305" width="320"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok, seriously we get it Rachel. Calm your <strike>ovaries</strike> tits. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Point is I am feeling the pressure squeezing down on my eggs to get this <strike>shit</strike>show on the road. With every childless passing school year and holiday I feel the squeeze. Even though I <strike>shop</strike> buy everything for my niece and nephew EVERY year who are now teens because they have<strike> horrible </strike> awesome parents is a reminder of just how old and childless I still am. </span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mini-vent. </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The fact that I have called the base hospital twice a day for the fifth day, just to get my lab results so I can start my prescription, with no call back yet doesn't help either. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No matter how positive you tell yourself to be every day. Every week. Month after month. Year after year. We just can't cancel the miscarriage due dates, holidays or back to school shopping(I've tried but people thought it was <strike>infertile</strike> ignorant of me) because Rachel stubbed her toe on the way up the fertile ladder. That's what they make wine for. Go have a glass or ten and feel better about yourself. <i>err..temporarily..then repeat?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You could avoid all retail stores in March, end of July-September, and definitely November and December. <b>Huge</b> red your period will probably come twice those months flag.<i> </i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or it will be late for those months thinking you struck the infertile lottery of "she was on a break from IVF and TTC for 10 years and got pregnant miraculously. On her own of course." </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">...or just have some kale.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Thanks Ryan. But you have to stop giving me all this kale. My husband is bound to catch on to us once he finds this blog."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but in the meantime.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Smooches. Lover boy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have solutions for everything. You are welcome.</span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-40132119033201180622014-07-10T14:51:00.001-07:002014-07-10T19:18:15.157-07:00Game of Infertility Referrals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClE7sGzoDgBvKCcT9Y6Eu5GjJMeV9cX7RHPZN-NMPSevVC6lnHId2dmmyz7RQI4wvisd2O_E_blz2t_pTa_7EAjtzqY7SYwKYEPEYsm5tFUp8V3ppU1jXzDyoaoBTTQSdsH-INk9uK7cd/s640/blogger-image--626763460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClE7sGzoDgBvKCcT9Y6Eu5GjJMeV9cX7RHPZN-NMPSevVC6lnHId2dmmyz7RQI4wvisd2O_E_blz2t_pTa_7EAjtzqY7SYwKYEPEYsm5tFUp8V3ppU1jXzDyoaoBTTQSdsH-INk9uK7cd/s400/blogger-image--626763460.jpg" width="400"></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me start by saying if you don't watch game of thrones. We can't be friends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok...so really we just started watching this year and watched four seasons in the amount of time it takes your typical 18 year old military gal to get knocked up. Which is one day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Before or after the shotgun wedding. Yee haw(reaks of bitterness)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok so maybe a day is a little harsh. Let's go with a few weeks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So here I am. Sitting at my awaited 45 day OB referral to get a real referral to someone who actually can end this train wreck of infertility. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do I need to explain why us infertiles hate OB offices. I'm literally biting my tongue at every scream or complaining conversation from the next beluga whale that plops down beside me with her basketball team. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is what I learned while I waited to be seen.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jackie says she, "really really hopes I get enduced this week, I CAN NOT take this anymore." </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEHJi_iFcUO7UYfQWg8zZQ4grKvrvKIr8A1qNla_2oEAXUXXoPhHBdmCg5NkHt1KY2vj03NnlfLuoVFDkeWAeG7EaP3RSWZmrjHm3NqgWdnTWA5-UR6nF6E4yNDEn8mj-axIrMoQ3EkJu/s1600/blogger-image-1809190990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEHJi_iFcUO7UYfQWg8zZQ4grKvrvKIr8A1qNla_2oEAXUXXoPhHBdmCg5NkHt1KY2vj03NnlfLuoVFDkeWAeG7EaP3RSWZmrjHm3NqgWdnTWA5-UR6nF6E4yNDEn8mj-axIrMoQ3EkJu/s400/blogger-image-1809190990.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">...and her husband responds, "me neither."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I laughed under my breathe barely concealing a smile and thinking me too Jackie and I've only known you for five minutes. Meee toooo.... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then Stacy wedged in between them and myself two seats down. Hello I picked the only chair all by myself in the corner for a reason. Next time I'm wearing a shirt that says: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I HAVE AIDS. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then show up with a slew of band-aids and a breathing mask.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So this peach Stacy, let all of us know, while on the phone, how much this "kid" was making her back hurt. Her other three "were SOOOOO much easier. She just couldn't believe she was pregnant again and having ANOTHER baby. I don't know how we are going to afford another one in diapers."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGk25WBFjqZr8KKUEDAtN1LVYCUIyEUO6X85Zwa6ZmZ2nixB1AhtDe0vTsN7s3NF7gW7799xIQZzSQ3ACGreCT2ixc7SHfZbu3dEKOiVibeXhhrgJtp30L3RWuL6SHnyOyhLFq5OMFzBs/s640/blogger-image--1940817043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGk25WBFjqZr8KKUEDAtN1LVYCUIyEUO6X85Zwa6ZmZ2nixB1AhtDe0vTsN7s3NF7gW7799xIQZzSQ3ACGreCT2ixc7SHfZbu3dEKOiVibeXhhrgJtp30L3RWuL6SHnyOyhLFq5OMFzBs/s400/blogger-image--1940817043.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well for starters Sta-CEE. How about you hop on down to the pharmacy and pick up some FREE birth control. Hell I can't even reproduce and they threw a 90 day supply at me without any questions. Orrrr how about you not buy a $200 dollar Coach purse or make a trip to the nail salon every month. And that took me all of thirty seconds of an eye rolling glance as she sat down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yea yea maybe the purse was a gift and maybe she does her own nails. I don't care next time she should shut her <strike>fat </strike>pregnant mouth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is why infertiles do not go to an OB-GYN for infertility. Do not pass go do not collect anything besides a bitch fit along the way. And bitterness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thank you Tricare or United Health. Whatever they are deciding to call it these days for that over due appointment no matter how surprised I was at the OB. You don't even cover infertility so it's more like a sick and twisted game of "Lets see how long we can prolong this while watching others over reproduce on our dime and we hand them free baby <strike>shit</strike> showers as a fertile grand prize." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I hope you paid close attention and heeded my warning from the rantpesode I taught today. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To summarize:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">99% of the patients and workers at the hospital on base have no clue what you are going through. <strike>They</strike> Dependas will say things outloud to make you want to punch them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bite your tongue. Roll your eyes. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mind your own business. Take lots of deep breaths. And remember thank god that you aren't Jackie or Stacy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Most importantly go home and have a drink or seven. Just kidding I'm in my pre IVF "cleanse."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesyGSommeCl76T6CzD7kTpZVW1egngccX8UxI60bOZihDkFxj-PxUiU41tiYEi3458VnlShSKiuMPWDRkUm_unVtD3rLr1mC-zr64CTw-ml7ba4ytlhDURUCKKz7As0Rc0s24xTv7MqCU/s1600/drevillaser.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesyGSommeCl76T6CzD7kTpZVW1egngccX8UxI60bOZihDkFxj-PxUiU41tiYEi3458VnlShSKiuMPWDRkUm_unVtD3rLr1mC-zr64CTw-ml7ba4ytlhDURUCKKz7As0Rc0s24xTv7MqCU/s1600/drevillaser.gif" height="238" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"CLEANSSSE"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Bullshit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sidenote.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The OB on base today was surprisingly helpful and knew more than the last 2 OBs who gave two shits if I got pregnant within this century. Shocker I know! </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was pinching myself to make sure he wasn't a mirage dreamt up by my infertile mind to block out the history of bad apples I had to bite. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He suggested ICSI IVF(more expensive of course, having another Lap surgery prior to IVF and removing my tubes completely along with a list of what to ask my RE(which he put in for whom I wanted). Also he did an ultrasound since I'm again 2 months late. Everything looked fine but just to be 1000%....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I strolled downstairs to the Lab to get an HCG blood test to confirm what we already know before starting BCPs.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">YOU HAD ONE JOB! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(...which didn't include the weird/rude comments about how you hated "this type of test" which completely through me off...."hated this type of test??" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What does that even mean?? Like you hate pregnancy HCG tests?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These "bad ones...mumbled something...scary tests," </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What does that even mean??</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Scary???</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't worry I stopped him in his dumbass tracks with a nothing scares me at this point. I'm not pregnant, this is my Dr. wanting to start me on IVF medication comment as he put the needle in startled by my sarcasm and almost poked through</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> my arm.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">moving on.....my OB also wanted an MRI(to help see how my endo is doing to maybe rule out another Lap surgery) scheduled in Radiology and a trip to the Pharmecy for the BCPs. And that completes my own period bloody tour of the base hospital. Go me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So giant thanks to Dr. P for caring and understanding my little infertile bubble in this army land of <strike> ferts</strike> farts. You made walking around with <strike>period</strike> blood all over me today and sitting with my polar reproductive opposites worth it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I just called fertiles, farts. Awesome. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok. Bye. </span></div>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-51717897868100852052014-07-07T15:01:00.003-07:002014-07-08T14:10:34.809-07:00When I Grow Up I Want To Be InfertileWhen I was a little girl I always dreamed of the days I would sit and blog about my broken reproductive private parts to the world on a giant web of a public diary. The same little girl, that thought she would have a flying car hovering in the driveway of her beach house after arriving home from swimming with dolphins she studies in the Florida Keys. I sit here five months from turning 34 and I still don't have a damn dolphin not even one goldfish(except the ones you can eat.) Dreams crushed. Hope gone. My reproductive organs are absolutely living up to the sarcastic dream that once was. I am living out my dream of never becoming pregnant with every passing month. Woo hoo...the gold star goes to me for accomplishing such a feat without one single abortion. <br>
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Abortion. Something I was struggling with the past few months. Technically you could say I aborted our baby? I haven't blogged about that day but I keep hearing "you've became pregnant already once in 4 years on fertility drugs it could happen again and not be ectopic." The middle east ending in peace is more likely to happen before the chance of me having a successful pregnancy without IVF.<br>
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<i>So here we go....</i><br>
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The baby was growing and my numbers were tripling with each ultrasound and blood draw. Enter the tragic "but"...But "I am sorry it appears the fetus has implanted in your fallopian tube and there is nothing in your uterus," as my RE so graciously and caringly put it. I feel bad for him now thinking about how many women he has to give such crushing news too. At the same time I would assume calling the next infertile couple with perfect HCG levels or finding a viable heartbeat for the first time outweighs the other heartbreak. At the time I was so distraught and on the verge of breaking down when we heard those lines I was only thinking about myself, my husband and our baby. I remember his expressionless face to this day as he searched around with that cold and invasive ultrasound wand. I think I could have set a Guinness book of world record for holding my breathe while being examined by a doctor. Up to this point I was almost seven weeks along and everything was fine from what we were told at the impromptu emergency room visit the week prior due to some excruciating rupturing cysts and lots of heart stopping blood. <br>
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I had the choice of surgery(D&C) or a series of very strong chemotherapy drugs(MTX), shot into my hips, which basically causes my body to "abort the fetus." I chose the hip action as you know if you already read my <a href="http://infertileprivateparts.blogspot.com/2014/01/gone-too-soon.html" target="_blank">Gone To Soon</a> post. I am not sure why besides my Dr. telling me it was what he suggested and at this point it seemed the easier option. I wanted to escape everything medical at this point. No more Drs. No more beeping ultrasounds. No more hospital. No more scars. No more nurses. <br>
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I laid on the table mindless like a zombie waiting on my shots. I was numb to everything. My husband couldn't make the drive do to a military course and my nurse was dumbfounded when I told her I came alone. I felt scolded and now even more concerned for what my body was about to go through physically. Needless to say I had to wait an hour after the shots to make sure I was ok to drive. After my hour was up I<strike> borrowed</strike> stole as many pads and tampons I could fit in my purse out of emotional meltdown rage at the world.<br>
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Karma came weeks later in the form of a bill for the MTX shots.<i> </i><br>
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Thanks Tri(doesn't)Care. The bad stuff came later that night. And by bad I mean worst night of my life physically and emotionally. That night made it crystal clear that IVF was our only option as I cried out loud in pain flip flopping from the floor back to the bed all night with the help of my husband. Was this normal? Did we need to rush to the ER again? The ER was the last place on earth I wanted to be so there I laid thinking about my decision of the MTX. I justified my decision that the baby would have ruptured my tube causing me to internally bleed to death and lost him or her anyways. I was never putting myself or my husband through that again. After eight weeks of bleeding, hair loss, bronchitis, a hormonal shitshow of emotions and avoiding social media it was time to get it together.<br>
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Whether or not I have a 34% chance to have a normal pregnancy after Lindsey Lohaning on fertility drugs.<br>
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There is the other 66% ectopic chance of it happening again and the nightmare that is detailed above for those who keep questioning my decision to move forward with IVF.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bWn5Ciy7oX508cTIDyo35CgDCffPMpcAxsFTpC8Hdh2GExCbhBM8u98EdlZjxR2IXz1eENBg3Kp3Q9HDV5D-puJvt3FrFvlbiiRUs7CYelFiikkG-MzQsTKltN3l4bRpH4kVU_3sTXCV/s1600/12items.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bWn5Ciy7oX508cTIDyo35CgDCffPMpcAxsFTpC8Hdh2GExCbhBM8u98EdlZjxR2IXz1eENBg3Kp3Q9HDV5D-puJvt3FrFvlbiiRUs7CYelFiikkG-MzQsTKltN3l4bRpH4kVU_3sTXCV/s1600/12items.jpg" height="220" width="320"></a>IVF. Hopefully I will have more news on that front soon. My appointment I've waited 45 days for is finally this week to an OB who can't help me but will only submit another referral to an RE since my PCM(family doctor) here in Missouri doesn't know how to submit referrals to RE's directly apparently. </div>
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Regardless of all the absolute nonsense I already found a highly recommended RE in Columbia and will be handing that information over to my OB to do the referral job for my PCM and now OB. I would send myself a thank you card but I will leave the narcissism to Facebook. Which, by the way, I feel like the grinch every time I go on that sympathy driven, self patronizing website just to catch up with family a thousand miles away and randomly end up seeing people still crying about sleep, hunger, hormones and weight gain because they got knocked up for free, leading me to have to delete them. Please just delete me already. I feel like my feelings on that were clear. Thanks.</div>
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My appointment with the OB should give me something to <strike>rant</strike> write about and then its onward to aiming for IVF this fall depending on how soon our RE says we can start the craziness.</div>
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So that leaves us with a creepers paradise of pictures I have been meaning to post since our move to Missouri. I know I was hating life for the first few weeks but the time since spent with military friends that are family, an out of state wedding, a quick surprise trip to PA for my sisters baby shower, lots of corn hole, my fave holiday weekend/9 year dating anniversary and fattening dinners with friends make any place paradise! Missouri is what you make of it and we are making the most of it.</div>
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I wanted to add this link to this post on <a href="http://www.scissortailsilk.com/2014/05/13/how-abortion-has-changed-the-discussion-of-miscarriage/" target="_blank">Abortion and Miscarriages</a> because I felt she was inside my head when I read each word. I saved it for last because well, we all know you would forget if I shared it in the beginning or middle. Hope you can relate as much as I did!<br>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-3998558288465657902014-06-06T15:55:00.002-07:002014-07-01T10:21:32.019-07:00Missouri Bound To DITY Or Not To DITY<div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anything I say can and will be taken too seriously..........if you have a stick up your anus of course. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We recently moved over 1000 miles across the country to the middle of nowhere, driving through the Hills Have Eyes, meets Wrong Turn, meets "it puts the lotion on its skin".</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whoa whoa take it easy with the compliments I know.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We also<strike> just got our internet turned back on</strike>! Correction still waiting because our sketchy new place has no phone lines(but really I'm blogging on my huge iPhone). But let's not get into the details of our upscale townhouse just yet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Regardless I aim to please. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strike>Myself</strike></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">....annddd maybe a few others still trailing along with my nonsense. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me sum up our trip from NC to Missouri with a snapshot of thoughts that blazed across my giant dome as I tried not to lose a kidney or become a table lamp along the way. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All while following my husband driving a 26 foot Uhaul towing a Yukon. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><Rant>UHAUL: is awesome. <End Rant></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Regardless the show must go on so we were on our aggravated, over stressed, way over our heads merry little way. I was one Paula Dean recipe away from flat lining on the highway. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Back to the trip from NC to central Missouri this is how it went for the most part.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3pm departure due to our lovely Uhaul debacle.</span></i><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">NC...</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Goodbye house. Goodbye beach...Goodbye family..you get the point...A few tears later I got over myself and started to get happy of <strike>the challenge</strike> Missouri and what lies ahead.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Another powerball billboard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'd buy lottery tickets more if Jimmy Johns for life was a possibility. Or free IVF.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Truck drivers really need to be added to the list of underpaid people like teachers, our military, social workers and the Chuckie Cheese mascot. I would have killed at least ten people already. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wow this state is long. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Are we there yet?</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">TN</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Onstar and Bluetooth audio. Life changing.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1am overnight stop in Knoxville</span></i><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Are we ever getting off this mountain?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br>KY</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alot of mullets and no horses. Where are the horses???</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh look..nope. It's a goat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">IL</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wow there is literally nothing.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Still boring.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh look a lovely game of prisoners playing baseball off the highway and why doesn't Tricare cover infertility procedures? Seems Legit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Why aren't all the prisoners in Antarctica. Playing a game of shovel your way to freedom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">MO</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Saint Louis. Why is the road detoured through downtown?? Whyyyyyy??</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Super ghetto. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lock your doors.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't look at anyone. Keep moving. Oh shit a redlight. Mmm BBQ. Damn it missed my turn. Get me out of here. Omg get me out of here! Re-route onstar. REROUTE!! Yes I said re-route!....(cutting people off)....sigh of relief and back on the interstate and no one died.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thank you Jesus.</span><br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXHvECpRGq9hFonz6QiWahQ2UPWsu3gEVOvvOZsjHNFOS_bwaA1xwxFBp7GXfWAj4vr6piYTQcjJpmAYrPbZ-7AJngxyv3644A1hx24S9I8KZdMXKsK8TvvUx1nBcqN2elO81WjfNFnq_/s1600/images+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXHvECpRGq9hFonz6QiWahQ2UPWsu3gEVOvvOZsjHNFOS_bwaA1xwxFBp7GXfWAj4vr6piYTQcjJpmAYrPbZ-7AJngxyv3644A1hx24S9I8KZdMXKsK8TvvUx1nBcqN2elO81WjfNFnq_/s1600/images+%25282%2529.jpg"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Central MO. Welcome to the black hole of uncle dads and meth labs run by 7th grade drop outs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">People wearing camis in public. Very Weird. Nice sleeves. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This has got to be the capital of Dependas United. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is no Target. Enough said.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm never leaving my townhouse.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you are moving from NC to MO now you know exactly what to expect. You're welcome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm starting my own tripadvisor.com calling it pcsingtonowhere.com </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But really. Calm your tits central Missourians. <strike>Your state really is horrible.</strike> I mean. It's not that terrible compared to my Fallopian tubes and ovaries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Silver lining?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll get back to you on that one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Years of IF and four deployments(dependa bragg) and I am still kicking it with a smile. More like a forced scowl at the moment. But same same. Good news is I haven't killed anyone yet and simply have to laugh. Even at myself.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With all that said I can see that there are many outdoor things to do in MO and others within a few hours drive. So lets make the most of it. Besides what other choice really does one have(besides curling up in a ball every day downing bottles of Moscato while braiding my dogs hair). I like river tubing. I like food. Central MO has excellent surpluses of both so thats a start. Plus we have a few military family friends stationed in the middle of nowhere with us. Not to mention D and I have each other as gross as that seems.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The tornados well well well. Hello three story townhouse with a basement. No it's not that nice. It might have been built in the late 80s but that's debately. Good news is we an save a lot for IVF and we already unloaded our whole material life possessions and made it a home within a few days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thank you ADHD. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Would we do a DITY(The Do It Yourself) move again??? The most popular question so far. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My answer. Turn down for what?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"But it's so much work", and driving that Uhaul towing an SUV was such a pain in the donkey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If someone tells me I could make up to 5k with some hard labor, a lot of stress but not enough to kill a person, a husband who had to drive the Uhaul and tow then there is no doubt about it. Give me my coins.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You're talking to someone who is about to drop 15-20k on trying to have a kid. You see most people who do DITY moves buy a boat, a car, pay off credit cards, buy boobs, go on a cruise with new boobs but fortunately for us we get to make a few embryos and place them inside me. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lucky.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Isn't science awesome though. The fact that I get to experience IVF with our own eggs and sperm makes me thankful. I know there are many other couples in which IVF isn't even an option. So thank you science.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So the answer will always be yes. Yes I will gladly box up all our own stuff, beg some friends to help load and unload the Uhaul and be a responsible adult and keep track of all our receipts during the move. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I ended up splitting off from and driving ahead of my husband, whom could only go a stellar 60mph, once we entered MO. I made it to FLW(Fort Leonard Wood) a few hours before him(lead foot) so I could look at <strike>many</strike> one place and sign a lease right away so we could move in as soon as my husband arrived. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Due to the obnoxious amount of creepers online, polite emails and comments from people who live happy full lives and my complimentary summary of our drive, I won't be posting any outside pictures of our (sketchy) humble abode. I like to live.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So we made it. The packing and unpacking is finally over.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The next chapter for us regarding creating tiny humans has started. I requested a referral at my appointment this week to an RE but learned I had to request an OB referral and then request a referral to an RE from him or her. So hopefully after the game of referrals is over in a month or so I will have a new RE that will be doing our IVF. Speaking of which we did a t-shirt fund raiser online and raised 600 dollars which was new and nice to see the people around us support our cause. So thank you everyone who participated in that(the list was long but you know who you are)! I will post some pics of our shirts if they ever get forwarded to Missouri that in itself could be a miracle. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Next post I will try to expand on the positives of living here in this beautiful place with hardly any tics, no rude people or dependas who just troll the internet and complain or cause drama about what they didn't get for fee or whose life is harder. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I suggest investing in a titanic sized amount of tic repellent to start. Those things are not playing around.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Always remember....</span><br>
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Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-31083994809480347572014-04-30T10:14:00.000-07:002014-04-30T11:26:11.845-07:00Labor Day-The movie.Wow. I certainly wasn't ready for that last half hour. Talk about being blindsided like a surprise we are pregnant friend announcement. Where did that even come from? If you haven't watched the movie yet then hello spoiler alert ahead. But I kind of wish I had known the ending, so I could have prepared myself a little better or decided to waste my dollar on paranormal activity 63 instead. <div><br></div><div>So basically. Woman(Adele) has a son(Henry) who is around 12. Adele's husband leaves her for his secretary and two kids when Henry is young. She lives a completley secluded life with Henry who sees his father once a week. And we are talking crazy lady goes grocery shopping once a month, has the shakes, is emotionally detached, hermit kind of life perception. Adele and Henry help a prison escapee(Frank) not by choice; but he did ask nicely. Adele and Frank fall in love over the five days(Labor day weekend) as he "hides out" at her house. Like we didn't see that coming. Henry also loves having a "father" who cares for him since his is a dick and his mom is crazy. Who wouldn't?! Frank is an ok guy repairing her house and bonding with baseball with Henry. Even though 20 yearsish ago he did push his wife when he found out she was sleeping around while he left for war and she fell hit her dumb cheating, slutty head and died. Frank cared for his "baby" 24/7, and he sadly drowned in the tub while slutty wife and him were arguing before her untimely death. So hence why he was in jail. </div><div><br></div><div>Are you with me??? Lame and predictable up to this point.</div><div><br></div><div>Frank, Adele and Henry decide towards the end of the movie to run off to Canada together as one happy family. Frank discovers baby book which has pictures of Henry(the son) and also maternity pictures of Adele's baby that died at birth. Adele leaves to get something(can't remember what because I was too busy crying over the damn miscarriage) from the store. Frank notices her shaking and that she can't even leave the driveway(her son is always with her). Unfortunately at this time Henry is dropping off a letter to his dad saying "goodbye" which later gets Frank caught before they could run for the border like OJ. Meanwhile Frank goes out to car and Adele explains the real reason why she is the way she is. Not because her husband is a complete cheating dick and made her go crazy from heartbreak. But because her husband was a complete dick who couldn't stand by his wife through her multiple recurring miscarriages. </div><div><br></div><div>Yes it was pretty graphic to watch if you've ever been pregnant and woke up to a pool of blood and feeling like someone was ripping out your insides. The movie showed flashbacks of Adele and douchebag ex trying over and over again until finally making it to full term but sadly the baby was still born. <<enter infertile heartbreak for her loss with feelings of wake the hell up you have an amazing son to be living for already anger did they really save this for the last five minutes?>></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Their brilliant plan to run away is diminished when the cops show up from Henry's letter drop off minutes prior. Frank ties up Adele and Henry and slits their throats and shoots himself. The end. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Wait a minute. Not really. Frank gets arrested for "kidnapping" and Adele and Henry go on to live without him for the next 20 years. Adele is still miserable and alone. Henry moves out and back in with Adele his senior year because his dad tells him what a dick he himself was for not supporting Adele through her emotional downfall. Failed attempt at not coming off as a dick and bastard father. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Henry goes on to open up a pie bakery because they spent twenty minutes on one scene bonding over making a damn peach pie all together. Frank sees magazine article of Henry's successful bakery the day before he gets released from prison and writes Henry. Adele and Frank meet up and live happily ever after. The end. Really this time. </div><div><br></div><div>So a few things. Personally I think this movie was lame for a couple reasons. I did feel sorry for Adele during the two brief minutes it showed her having miscarriages. Of course I did. But I can't get over the fact that she had such an amazing son already who needed her love. Hell they even slapped a handicap kid just to try to get your attention. Which by the way. I may feel differently about spending a dollar on this movie if that slapping mother would have been ran over crossing the street at some point. And why the hell were they so sweaty throughout the whole thing? I didn't know New Hampshire was so damn humid? And how can an escapee snap you out of a Betty Ford clinic depression over a weekend of a predictable story line but your living breathing son is simply a reminder of your deep inconsolable depression?? If I were a rude and honest friend I would tell Adele to wake the fuck up and cherish what you have. Like the son that is living. I feel empathy for her. But not sympathy. Get some counseling or at least some Prozac. I haven't had the privilege or blessing to carry one child yet to full term so that's a big blank space of confusion to be determined once that dream and blessing is thrown my way and simply where my personal infertile heart lies for now. I'll be sure to write honestly how I feel once I hopefully carry one child on what it's like to want another. </div><div><br></div><div>To be short. The only way I would have liked this movie was if Adele wasn't a mother already. Frank was played by Ryan Gosling or maybe even the new buffer Zac Effron(pedophile much?). They weren't so damn grossly sweaty unless it was set in any state east coast and south of Virginia. A handicap kid doesn't get slapped without any repercussions. They showed more than two seconds of her struggle with conceiving and miscarriages. Ending with her having a healthy baby with either Ryan or Zac. Too much to ask? </div><div><br></div><div>Nice try Labor Nah......But Rachel Ebert gives you two thumbs down. </div><div><br></div><div>Cue the "secondary infertility" bad emails.......cue the not in my shoes responses. </div><div><br></div><div>FYI my niece will be born in two days so be prepared for annoying overflow of newborn pictures soon. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-64428451328641307632014-04-18T07:38:00.001-07:002014-04-22T10:17:49.969-07:00PCS and Flip phones.We met with our realtor yesterday. That was fun. If by fun I mean dipping a dull needle in acid and jamming it into your pressure points fun. The builders have backed up the dump truck of manuer and shit on all the homeowners equity here in Onslow County, NC. How kind of them. We are talking grandpa needs a triple bypass clog. Our house may be worth 155k dollars but we would need the stars to align under a full blood moon while raising the dinosaurs from the dead to sell for anything over 120,000. And that would take two years. Yes the market here is that awesome. Lucky. <div><br></div><div>However, there is no need to join the negative equity pity party. According to Vanilla Ice if there was a problem yo' he'd solve it. So we are taking on that mantra minus those sick rap lyrics and highlighted hair. </div><div><br></div><div>Enter our back up plans. Whenever you are PCSing, it's a good idea to always think of the worst possible scenario and how the heck you are going to get through it. <div><br></div><div>Case in point. </div><div> </div><div>Problem: May 15th rolls around and our house is still sitting on the market (not rented) but D has to check into Fort Leonard Wood regardless if a meteor just struck the earth and a mile high tsunami is headed for the east coast. Ok. Maybe then he would get an extra day. But you get the point. </div><div><br></div><div>Solution: Cry. That too. What would also happen is D would go to MO and stay with another Marine we know sans Rachel until our house is filled with renters. Reality is we cannot pay two mortgages especially with the whole IVF debacle approaching. </div><div><br></div><div>Which leads us to more solutions. Getting rid of car payments. And ready for it......bah bah bahmmm. Cellular devices. Good bye iPhones. Hello 1999 flip phone. Not really. But when you go from an iPhone to let's say just a cell phone for text and talking its major around here. And me just stating that confirms the issue that there is a problem. Time to cut the cord. Plus we both have iPads so the travesty isn't what it seems. Wifi is the new data plan. </div><div><br></div><div><<Please share what you have done to save money for IVF?? TIA!>></div><div><br></div><div>So with all this cutting the cords and cars crap (We were blessed by our amazing grandma who gave us her old Yukon. Shoutout to grandma! Although she's probably playing slot-o-mania and is on a three day winning streak and won't see this for months. Either way she rocks.)) this allows us to save for IVF. With finding a new place in Missouri, dragging our whole life across the country in a Uhaul and realtor fees for our current home it allows us to try to finally become parents sooner than later.</div><div><br></div><div>One last thing. Kind of important. We are also selling shirts through a fundraiser website called Tfund. </div><div><br></div><div>http://www.tfund.com/Teamspurling</div><div><br></div><div>Little did I know you could change the goal of how many we will sell in 21 days. So I pledged the maximum of 275. Lol whoops. Either way we <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">have sold enough already for them to be printed. So if you would like to spend 20 bucks on a tee shirt for our test tube babies I couldn't thank you enough. We do not know how many fresh IVF cycles we will have to get through and so we are trying to prepare however we can. Hence the cars and phones going away. If you don't have 20 dollars to spare, tell a rich friend, let's say Ellen? if she's your bestie that also works. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This is obviously something we care about greatly and even though I joke around 90% of the time it's honestly my way of dealing with the craziness of infertility. Plus it is NIAW(National Infertility Awareness Week) so you would be helping spread the word of infertility and then maybe one day when our insurance companies get their act(shit) together they will cover not only birth control and abortion pills but IVF for responsible, married, tax paying adults who just want a chance at a family.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But for now it's flip phones and selling tee shirts. Get on my level. </span></div><div><br></div></div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2887803621891080578.post-13859391947228729522014-04-11T11:25:00.001-07:002014-04-11T22:54:42.868-07:00The Black Sheep.Well shit. I completely derailed my previous post about not taking 37 years for my next post. My most sincere sarcastic apologies. So let's get an update shall we? <div><br></div><div>Hmmmm. Good news is I didn't forget my password to Blogger. Bad news is that after bleeding for 55 days straight(RIP to the hundreds of pads and tampons that were innocently murdered) I'm still waiting for AF. It's been two months and she's not showing her face. Not a cramp or bloat in sight. Before we get excited. I am not knocked up. I decided after our ectopic to end the years of fertility drugs to make me ovulate and take a break from every two weeks having my private parts poked, proded and stared at by another man. I will not go through another ectopic again. And so IVF is our only option. If you have been somehow following along since the beginning of this hot mess train then you know we are moving to FLW, Missouri by June. So IVF will be happening there. We are thinking end of summer or fall. But first lets get our house sold or rented and go from there. ((Enter big sigh of relief on June 1st)). So no active TTC has been going on. Actually D and I were reunited after 3 weeks just this week. While he was off playing Marine in another foreign country I was busy with a gender reveal for my baby sister(shes not a baby anymore but still *my baby sister), and a baby shower for my sister in law(but really she's more a sister). Gasping for air? The horror I know!!? Actually they were my top two fave moments thus far for 2014. And not because my year started out as shit. But because I love these gals and they are going to be super moms. And slightly because both had planned pregnancies and don't smoke crack. Winning. (If they do, they are pretty good at hiding it).</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HZMA3Mwg3nAKrkW0HlDsdGkm02HEFoUZ4ejMkUeUFbVBpuk4K7JTW42V20j6j11lbammvmpsaIo8UomaonQ6y1EETw39x120mLQEtjh5RcnQo3SJpFBANv3w3fttJw5GikDrwBO448DU/s640/blogger-image-1032246267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HZMA3Mwg3nAKrkW0HlDsdGkm02HEFoUZ4ejMkUeUFbVBpuk4K7JTW42V20j6j11lbammvmpsaIo8UomaonQ6y1EETw39x120mLQEtjh5RcnQo3SJpFBANv3w3fttJw5GikDrwBO448DU/s640/blogger-image-1032246267.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ZuS0z7vfjiVjiFej9dJgArZ6tIxlAgb29UKdVve9ULbdbcqyzr5xFBL5BzZN0eJbmfJiluiJgvLgsS2gqJJ5ICbtB4YiD0WYj5aZCWshrqYXEPc53wgziaOCTPvLoOlhYrbAuS3qx5L7/s640/blogger-image-1151574628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ZuS0z7vfjiVjiFej9dJgArZ6tIxlAgb29UKdVve9ULbdbcqyzr5xFBL5BzZN0eJbmfJiluiJgvLgsS2gqJJ5ICbtB4YiD0WYj5aZCWshrqYXEPc53wgziaOCTPvLoOlhYrbAuS3qx5L7/s640/blogger-image-1151574628.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Sorry my pics are jacked up. I'll fix them later. I'm blogging from my iPad due to tech issues with my laptop. Aka. It's a POS. But not a top priority POS at this moment. But I put together the dessert table for my sister in law and managed to make her cake and have it arrive in one piece. I didn't make my sister the bee reveal cake(hello I like surprises too) but I did do the diaper cake. So if you didn't know. Now you do. I like crafting. Sewing and painting. And making cakes. The chevron glitter epidemic was a first and last though. And the tutu table skirt well yea that was a beautiful but horrible idea. I do have an etsy. Which I won't share here cause that's not what this blog is about. But I also make wreaths. You can say Martha Stewart sans jail time is my idol. Moving on.....</div><div><br></div><div>I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">believe that those two events buy me a pass for playing hooky online. Three if you count packing up my house alone and putting everything in the garage. Can we say free workout? I can always count on a good PCS move to help me loose that extra 15lbs I gained from infertility and an ectopic this year. I am married to a man who eats a bag of chips and abs spontaneously pop out. Talk about not standing on the beach next to that guy. Jerk. I love you. But your metabolism is still a jerk. Your a freak of nature. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk19Ipn-YqNxj3S9Eo2Y0O8G8FumGzXB50vxSP_TThFtbCpxMSsesmwyb1whLt6YrRyI_XFg9mcbKntHfBu3Yjz4FbNpdSPLPeshd2D1OV4xovKeS7PASyF9KA5CyGzkNpBHTODcGAl-Yg/s640/blogger-image--2096887278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk19Ipn-YqNxj3S9Eo2Y0O8G8FumGzXB50vxSP_TThFtbCpxMSsesmwyb1whLt6YrRyI_XFg9mcbKntHfBu3Yjz4FbNpdSPLPeshd2D1OV4xovKeS7PASyF9KA5CyGzkNpBHTODcGAl-Yg/s640/blogger-image--2096887278.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></span></div><div><br></div><div>Finally I'd like to make it clear why I started this blog. I am not here to impress, blow up my ego, gain millions of followers or give worldly sound advice. I am simply here to speak my infertile mind. I don't hold back. I don't sugar coat. I don't shoot rainbows up your vagina and make you feel warm and fuzzy like boot socks and tights with a warm cup of cocoa in wintertime. I don't win blogging awards or use advertisements. I'm more of the summer thunderstorm that pops out of nowhere to ruin your day at the beach or make you laugh. You can either wait it out or pack up and leave. It's not that big of a deal. I am here to relate to infertile women in my shoes who feel the same as me. I say shit and fuck. More than I should. Sorry I hang out with Marines every weekend and it typically only comes out when I blog or tweet. Or drink. Which is pretty much every weekend. Thanks mom. 😑 Case in point. Twitter.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq39IFkkKTAaD36lnXBQkafhP0D5auQFuNRAeg9l4lElQMtsgqRP-SCNNBWk_UNCy8cSknfvVUojH4m2uyT4SA6S0tnWJUzZ_mZvnKxO0MV03TZZCAPsGI9SIqQinWIV5Pvf6xaE1LM8vC/s640/blogger-image--1823397262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq39IFkkKTAaD36lnXBQkafhP0D5auQFuNRAeg9l4lElQMtsgqRP-SCNNBWk_UNCy8cSknfvVUojH4m2uyT4SA6S0tnWJUzZ_mZvnKxO0MV03TZZCAPsGI9SIqQinWIV5Pvf6xaE1LM8vC/s640/blogger-image--1823397262.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am the black sheep of infertility. A lot of infertile women do not portray the absolute disaster that is my infertility front and center. But then again most of them are on to their 2nd or 3rd IVF baby already. Or don't have to shovel out $15000 + just to try. Lol not funny but so true. Damn it. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> There are IF bloggers who speak words of enspiring strength. Those are the blogs you should be reading. Anyone can say shit or drop F bombs followed by pictures of pregnant crack heads. Maybe I am the balance to the madness? Who knows. I just know I'm not going to change the way I feel or what I say to avoid stepping on someone's toes or fertile feelings. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPM0Dt_f9jyx07lrTKNXJgKDvrBGoGCL9jKx-mkqW9RbtoH9hzeZ0XZggHtRhImdZfSHvmPjn3MjQgOVM-iD2fMP2jlsmtcd6GuY6F-Jqe9woTiij7Q2zkqudRuNLZDnbcwL7qUQKaNotB/s640/blogger-image-285528103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPM0Dt_f9jyx07lrTKNXJgKDvrBGoGCL9jKx-mkqW9RbtoH9hzeZ0XZggHtRhImdZfSHvmPjn3MjQgOVM-iD2fMP2jlsmtcd6GuY6F-Jqe9woTiij7Q2zkqudRuNLZDnbcwL7qUQKaNotB/s640/blogger-image-285528103.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> If you are a mom blogger or just a fertile broad in general. I will most likely say something that you do not agree with and likely </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">piss you off. And that's fine. Why are you following me anyways. Don't you have a hand made pair of moccasin shoes to make for your 5 children? 2+3 isn't 6 so instead of emailing or following me with displeasure please feel free to take it up with someone who cares. Or just keep on creeping on homegirl. I must be doing something half assed right if I still have your attention. I'm the car crash that you stare at as you drive by thinking thank god that isn't me. I do not dislike moms or babies. I DO dislike hearing in my social media circle how hard your pregnancy/parenting is. Very simple. Just like my infertility. I don't ever go on and on how hard this bullshit is day after day year after year on social media. So if that's what you do(you have every right as a full believer in freedom and as a Libertarian) just please don't do it around myself or anyone that may be going through infertility, for the hundreth time. Which you might not even know because many women keep it personal and quiet. Hence why you should just stop crying online to people who don't give two shits. But you go ahead and do you and I'll be over here sticking to Twitter and blogs like mine. (Instagram is on a break for me) it's starting to be the new passive aggressive Facebook now after three years. Can we just go back to before it was cool to have IG?? People just do not get it. Allegedly. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Until next rant or clarification. TGIF! And three cheers for this 80 degree NC weather! </span></div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Infertile Private Partshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183979389811078907noreply@blogger.com11