Ladies and Gentleman,
This cycle is really f_ckin' with my mind. I have a distinctly inconclusive BBT temp chart - having missed temping on what turns out to be the ONE SUPER CRITICAL day that would tell me if my egg made it within the 36 hour window of live sperm swimming inside of me. But, I don't know. I have concluded that I did, in fact, ovulate this month (that's good) but not sure if it was between CD 15-16 or CD 16-17. The latter would be too late considering I got jacked up on CD 14. Anyway... I've spent this first week resigned to the fact that we missed our window of opportunity and that I was not going to be pregnant this cycle. I would have rated myself about a 1 on the banana scale of 1 / 10. I was obviously very disappointed at first but made my peace with it and managed to not think about pregnancy or anything related this first few days. THEN... the events of yesterday came along and threw a total kink in my plan. I had spotting. Day 6 (or so) DPO and all of a sudden there's spotting. Holy COW PIE - JESUS MARIA JOSE - MOTHER OF ALL THINGS GOOD - CRAP SHIT WOW!!!!!!!!! spotting! As in, implantation spotting. After clogging up the toilet with so much toilet paper to reconfirm and reconfirm and reconfirm, I did some research and learned that implantation spotting happens in about 20% of women between DPO 6 and 10. Bingo. Of course - then the second guessing starts in. I couldn't reproduce it, although god help me I tried about every 10 minutes. It was such a minimal amount and not exactly the brownish color described on the Internet so now I'm wondering if god decided to bring me hemorrhoids or perhaps maybe a cute little anal fissure for my 34th birthday! Baby? or anal fissure? Therein lies the question. I know, people, you don't have to tell me that I'm too sexy for your love because well... I just already know, okay!!
So, now I'm feeling really cautiously optimistic about this and have bounced right up to about a 8/10 on my banana scale. Dare I?
So in the event that this is the real deal, I thought it would be important to jot down the chronology of events so that Reilly (and me) can lovingly reflect back onto the first few days of her (obviously it will be a girl because of the late ovulation - duh!) coming into this world.
Dear Reilly...
I got inseminated on a Sunday (Jan. 20th) on what was more than likely a bitterly cold rainy Seattle day. We were on time (which translates to early) for our appointment, naturally, and the doctor was not. We had been told by the receptionist that they were so busy that they had double booked all appointments. Good strategy... you know... cuz you people have it sooooo organized and rolling like a well-oiled machine already. Yah. Anyway... Dr. Evil was not there that day because she was off tending to her infernos in the depths of Hell, and so I got assigned a different doctor for the "procedure". Her name was Dr. Marquis de Sade and my god was she in a big hurry! I have included a picture of her in this blog because - well - this is clearly an important piece of documentation about your life and visual aids always always help. Especially at your youthful age. To get to right to the heart of the matter, this lady had some serious violent tendencies. A gentle-touch was NOT her M.O. She jammed that cold, un-lubed speculum into me with no warning what so ever and just as I was able to catch my breath and tell her "um... something ain't right - this hurts like a mother fucker - in went the catheter. I felt like I was the victim of a massive oil drilling. I honest to god couldn't speak or breath. I was clenched up in pain and squeezing the life blood out of Drake's hand. It was all over in about 45 seconds - very reminiscent of my heterosexual days - and thank god for that. She was so rough I actually honestly bled/spotted for the remainder of the afternoon. Gave serious thought to bringing my red poka-dotted underpanties in and demanding a refund.
Anyway...
DPO 5 - I needed a hamburger. Bad. I also had these crazy back spasms that would have had me doubled over in pain if I were physically capable of moving my torso, that is. Which I wasn't.
DPO 6 - Seriously f_cked up dreams. 3 of them in a row and all too shameful to put into words. Also, implantation spotting or an anal fissure. I've never had rhoids or an anal fissure or implantation spotting before so I honestly can't tell the difference.
Dearest Dearest Reilly - please please be you and not an anal fissure. If I were the praying type, I'd be writhing on the floor right now speaking in tongues, that's how serious I am about this. A baby - or an anal fissure. Another great mystery yet to be unveiled.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
6 non-important things...
SaraS-P did a mass tagging of her readers to list 6 non-important things about myself, and I must follow these rules.
To quote her, she said "seriously, if you read this, you must do the assignment. And I'll know who has read...because I am a powerful psychic after all." and well... I take those threats seriously, so... here goes.
The Rules:1) Link to the person that tagged you.2) Post the rules on your blog.3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.6) Let the fun begin!
1) Time. I'm obsessed with it. And I'm not referring to just a minor little quirk, but rather a major, colossally unhealthy and mildly irrational compulsion that dramatically affects my day to days. I sort of have it under control, but it's been a struggle. When I was in high school and early college days, I would sit on the kitchen counter, compulsively kicking my feet into the cabinets and staring at the clock on the microwave waiting until just the exact minute and second to leave for school. I couldn't have any interruptions and I absolutely HAD to get out the door at the exact moment; not a minute too soon or god forbid, too late. I would also dial POPCORN (the number with the operator that would tell you the time down to the second) about 4 times a day and make sure that all the clocks in my immediate vicinity were perfectly synced up. Later, the atomic clock was invented that syncs satellite to NASA or something and of course I own one of those which brings me great comfort.
2) I have a dimple in my chin. I've always had mixed feelings about it. When I was a kid, I hated it. I spent hours shoving pencils and sharp objects into the chins of my close friends so that they too would have a dimple and I would be less unusual. It didn't work. When I moved to Florida for a year, a guy on my bus used to ask if that was a 9-hole golf course in my chin and would call me "butt chin." He had bad acne and fucked up fly-away hair and I would try to smack him in the face but he was like a black belt in karate or some shit and would always manage to block my attacks. I hope he's fat and diseased now. Not like a deadly disease but maybe something that just makes him generally miserable because you know... karma's a bitch. Now I kind of like my dimple. Kids like to stick their little fingers in it and I pretend like there's a monster hiding in there that will come out and bite their fingers off. It's my thing and few others can offer that sort of play time for them, so that makes me feel special. My mother told me that I had a dimple because when I was first born, God came down and looked at all the little babies in the nursery and pointed his finger right down into my chin and said "I like YOU the best." I believe that to be truth to this day even though both my parents have dimples so genetically I didn't stand a chance. I hope Reilly has a dimple too.
3) I'm a compulsive liar about brushing my teeth. It's just about the only thing I ever lie about and I'm not honestly sure why I do it; but I really hate brushing my teeth at night and so when Drakey yells down at me - I just tell her I've done it. She knows that I tell lies. If she calls me on it, I'll confess that I've lied but I'll continue to do it. Probably forever. And no, I don't have fucked up nasty British teeth. My teeth are perfectly fine.
4) I can't do Math. I'm fairly certain I have a learning disability where this subject is concerned but that's never been tested nor confirmed. I can say with 100% certainty that if somebody were to hook me up to some stuff that monitored my pulse or heart beat that it would sky rocket when presented with any Math question, even of the simplest variety. Something physically triggers inside of me, I'm sure of that. It can be likened to a mad rage. On the flip side, I have a knack for remembering numbers. I know every body's birthday and phone number I've ever known my whole life dating back to the 1980's. I remember numbers like crazy - just don't ever ask me to add, subtract, multiply or divide them because I can't be held accountable for my actions.
5) I secretly wish I were a rock star. 'Nuf said.
6) I'm actually nice. Sincerely. This may come as a shock because well... I'm offensive and I speak my mind and am brutally honest and I throw insults here and there but I really am a very nice person when it comes down to it. I'm sensitive as hell and I care greatly for people and human kind. I never cried for the first 25 years of my life and then one day... the tears started coming and they haven't ever really stopped. I cry through commercials, reality TV shows, reading hallmark cards, the mention of weddings or new births, etc. It doesn't take much to bring me to tears. And to quote a line out of Steel Magnolias - "laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." I hold this as truth.
Now... I'm also going to cheat and just tag anybody and everybody who reads this. I know who you are and I *will* be checking. But just in case I don't check - post me a comment or send email and let me know that you did because that would just delight me senselessly. Hell... I'll probably cry.
Oh oh oh - two postings back to back in one week! on a roll!
To quote her, she said "seriously, if you read this, you must do the assignment. And I'll know who has read...because I am a powerful psychic after all." and well... I take those threats seriously, so... here goes.
The Rules:1) Link to the person that tagged you.2) Post the rules on your blog.3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.6) Let the fun begin!
1) Time. I'm obsessed with it. And I'm not referring to just a minor little quirk, but rather a major, colossally unhealthy and mildly irrational compulsion that dramatically affects my day to days. I sort of have it under control, but it's been a struggle. When I was in high school and early college days, I would sit on the kitchen counter, compulsively kicking my feet into the cabinets and staring at the clock on the microwave waiting until just the exact minute and second to leave for school. I couldn't have any interruptions and I absolutely HAD to get out the door at the exact moment; not a minute too soon or god forbid, too late. I would also dial POPCORN (the number with the operator that would tell you the time down to the second) about 4 times a day and make sure that all the clocks in my immediate vicinity were perfectly synced up. Later, the atomic clock was invented that syncs satellite to NASA or something and of course I own one of those which brings me great comfort.
2) I have a dimple in my chin. I've always had mixed feelings about it. When I was a kid, I hated it. I spent hours shoving pencils and sharp objects into the chins of my close friends so that they too would have a dimple and I would be less unusual. It didn't work. When I moved to Florida for a year, a guy on my bus used to ask if that was a 9-hole golf course in my chin and would call me "butt chin." He had bad acne and fucked up fly-away hair and I would try to smack him in the face but he was like a black belt in karate or some shit and would always manage to block my attacks. I hope he's fat and diseased now. Not like a deadly disease but maybe something that just makes him generally miserable because you know... karma's a bitch. Now I kind of like my dimple. Kids like to stick their little fingers in it and I pretend like there's a monster hiding in there that will come out and bite their fingers off. It's my thing and few others can offer that sort of play time for them, so that makes me feel special. My mother told me that I had a dimple because when I was first born, God came down and looked at all the little babies in the nursery and pointed his finger right down into my chin and said "I like YOU the best." I believe that to be truth to this day even though both my parents have dimples so genetically I didn't stand a chance. I hope Reilly has a dimple too.
3) I'm a compulsive liar about brushing my teeth. It's just about the only thing I ever lie about and I'm not honestly sure why I do it; but I really hate brushing my teeth at night and so when Drakey yells down at me - I just tell her I've done it. She knows that I tell lies. If she calls me on it, I'll confess that I've lied but I'll continue to do it. Probably forever. And no, I don't have fucked up nasty British teeth. My teeth are perfectly fine.
4) I can't do Math. I'm fairly certain I have a learning disability where this subject is concerned but that's never been tested nor confirmed. I can say with 100% certainty that if somebody were to hook me up to some stuff that monitored my pulse or heart beat that it would sky rocket when presented with any Math question, even of the simplest variety. Something physically triggers inside of me, I'm sure of that. It can be likened to a mad rage. On the flip side, I have a knack for remembering numbers. I know every body's birthday and phone number I've ever known my whole life dating back to the 1980's. I remember numbers like crazy - just don't ever ask me to add, subtract, multiply or divide them because I can't be held accountable for my actions.
5) I secretly wish I were a rock star. 'Nuf said.
6) I'm actually nice. Sincerely. This may come as a shock because well... I'm offensive and I speak my mind and am brutally honest and I throw insults here and there but I really am a very nice person when it comes down to it. I'm sensitive as hell and I care greatly for people and human kind. I never cried for the first 25 years of my life and then one day... the tears started coming and they haven't ever really stopped. I cry through commercials, reality TV shows, reading hallmark cards, the mention of weddings or new births, etc. It doesn't take much to bring me to tears. And to quote a line out of Steel Magnolias - "laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." I hold this as truth.
Now... I'm also going to cheat and just tag anybody and everybody who reads this. I know who you are and I *will* be checking. But just in case I don't check - post me a comment or send email and let me know that you did because that would just delight me senselessly. Hell... I'll probably cry.
Oh oh oh - two postings back to back in one week! on a roll!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Jesus goes green
Drake and I were having one of our par for the course, extraordinary mensa-caliber conversations this past weekend over breakfast about the controversy surrounding Hybrid Vehicles and their carbon footprint, or lack thereof, on the planet. A friend of mine recently suggested that these hybrid vehicles are not nearly as "green" as they claim to be because there's supposedly something about the production and disposal of the actual battery that is the equivalent of the waste of producing 10 cars. The batteries REAL BIG, I guess. 10X big. Drake looked at me with one of her "Im revvin' up to think big thoughts that are gonna blow your mind" - exascerbated expressions and her first response was "is she a Republican?". and i said... well... "yes, as a matter of fact, but what the hell does that have to do with anything?" To which the all-wise Drakey replied "all Republicans find ways to spin things. Don't be stupid." Oh. well... okay. I'll take that and tuck it neatly away into my little asserted this-is-truth-no-research-needed pocket and never question it again. But that's not my point. And believe it or not, my point is not to rip on Republicans either in this blog entry (just this one), shocking as that may seem. My target today is something closely related and well... equally, if not more offensive. Uber Christians. Yes... (insert evil laugh here... something like Mwa ha ha) - you are the victim of my bitterly jaded, need to transfer my pain and anguish of challenged fertility (Mwwaahaha HA HA) humor tonight. I'm sure you can somehow find it in your good Christian hearts to forgive me, because honestly, I respsect everybody's beliefs and I mean no harm. But humor and sarcasm needs a place, doesn't it? Anyway... to the point of my story. So we had this brief, but highly enlightened conversation and 10 minutes later we went for a pleasant Sunday morning constitutional with the dogs around the neighborhood. And to what did my wandering eyes did appear? But a vision of hysterical irony parked ever so near. This is where I insert a note that says "See Photo Above". You see that giant, gas guzzling monster of a vehicle? The one with the giant carbon footprint and of course, only found in America? Well fear not hippies, vegans and radical environmentalist. That fucker's POWERED BY JESUS!!! No Shit, Sherlock; it's true! It even has a giant sticker on the back certifying that it truly is powered by Jesus. Now that's the ticket! Why oh why didn't we all think of that before? Here we are - all these years, burning through billions of gallons of fuel, throwing emissions into the air as carelessly as a pair of swinging tits at Mardi Gras and all this time... there was Jesus - willing to make our vehicles go to and fro all along. Wow. Jesus Pits - do I feel like a complete idiot!
So thanks, Jesus, for that. Now tell me... where can I get a car powerd by Jesus cuz I sure could use the extra cash I'd save on gas money what with all of these failed inseminations attempts and what not. Note to self. Look at ads on Craig's list this weekend. Vehicles - powered by Jesus.
Which brings me to my next point. I actually got inseminated this weekend. On CD 14. That's right. 1-4. FOURTEEN! As in - implying a 28 day cycle? Could it be? That's never happened to me before. Never. That's like... perfectly effin' normal. Ideal. But that blue line on the OPK was shining brilliantly Saturday morning on CD 13 and I thought for just a second - holy cow pie, Erae - this could be it. Like a sign from Jesus whom I hope will power the new ATV I plan on buying now that I know that they are so enviornmentally sound now. So I got inseminated on CD 14 and then you know what happened? Oh... I failed to ovulate the next day. Yep. No temp rise. So the 16.8 million sperm that my fragile uterus was playing host to these past 36 hours are probably all dead now and well... I forgot to drop of mother fucking egg!! awesome! I'm wondering if I should try to create some good karma and stop making fun of perfectly innocent people? Hmm.... nah. Mwuhahaha.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
exercise and such...
Greetings! Now that the new year has arrived and the failed attempt at my last cycle is behind me, I've decided to try something outrageous and different. This week I've replaced alcohol with exercise. Deplorable, I know!!!! You'd think that somebody bashed me over the head and all of my brain cells spilled out. But I've got to do something to make positively sure that 2008 is a vast improvement from 2007 (although frankly, that can't be too difficult) and since apparently this fertility business is sort of out of my control, I thought it might be productive to make a change that IS in my control. and I've always wanted to look like Linda Hamilton in Terminator. So I'm exercising like a crazy possessed mad woman. Morning and night. Me and that blasted elliptical machine are practically welded together, moving in unison with tiger-like grace... yah yah - that's it!! and I'm focused... dammit. Wish me luck. Generally these irrational episodes of mine only last about a week.
As for the fertility update - well, I guess pineapples aren't the miracle cure afterall. Whatever. I'm blaming it on the donor this time. His junk was probably too slow. It had been sitting around unfrozen for probably over an hour by the time Dr. Evil arrived 45 minutes late last time so maybe it all imploded and died or something. It was also the last of our vials and they always save the lowest sperm count for last. Now, of course, we're faced with a bit of a predicament because the Cryobank won't have any IUI-ready junk available and out of quarantine until late January which means that I'll probably have to miss the next cycle. I told Drakey to have them put some on layaway for us, but now I'm wondering if we should mix it up and try a few cycles with ICI. Does anyone have any or know of many success stories with ICI and the turkey baster... um... methodology, for lack of a better word? I would *LOVE* to not have to spend all that quality time in a sterile white room at the Hades clinic playing slutbag to Dr. Evil and be able to have a somewhat normal, dare I even say "intimate" experience at home with this, but... ugh. I just don't know. Do people really use a turkey baster? How do they even do it? Is there some sort of tool for that? Any advice is welcome because *obviously* I don't know shit about f*ck on this ICI topic.
As for the fertility update - well, I guess pineapples aren't the miracle cure afterall. Whatever. I'm blaming it on the donor this time. His junk was probably too slow. It had been sitting around unfrozen for probably over an hour by the time Dr. Evil arrived 45 minutes late last time so maybe it all imploded and died or something. It was also the last of our vials and they always save the lowest sperm count for last. Now, of course, we're faced with a bit of a predicament because the Cryobank won't have any IUI-ready junk available and out of quarantine until late January which means that I'll probably have to miss the next cycle. I told Drakey to have them put some on layaway for us, but now I'm wondering if we should mix it up and try a few cycles with ICI. Does anyone have any or know of many success stories with ICI and the turkey baster... um... methodology, for lack of a better word? I would *LOVE* to not have to spend all that quality time in a sterile white room at the Hades clinic playing slutbag to Dr. Evil and be able to have a somewhat normal, dare I even say "intimate" experience at home with this, but... ugh. I just don't know. Do people really use a turkey baster? How do they even do it? Is there some sort of tool for that? Any advice is welcome because *obviously* I don't know shit about f*ck on this ICI topic.
Monday, January 7, 2008
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