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Early On-set Optimism
I do believe that this is a new record.
Just last night I was bitching to myself about having to go out & buy another damn box of tampons. (I will spare you details - but let’s just say that there is an entirely NEW side effect once one stops taking progesterone. It’s like period-pa-looza!) Having spent the good part of Saturday afternoon as a lump on my bed raging against the Universe I felt like an empty shell on Sunday. Then by Sunday night I was just a cranky pants.
Monday mornings are meant to be horrid. They have a delicious track record of kicking you when you are down and then when you open your eyes, begging for mercy, Monday’s tend to stomp sand in your face. Oh no, Monday has never been a friend of mine.
Except today Monday was laying low. She may have sensed that I needed some space.
I woke up with an adorable fuzzy black cat sitting on my gut purring. It is a way better way to wake up then say waking up to a coughed up cat ick on your pillow.
The late night rain had cooled down the yard enough that I could actually read the paper on the porch. In June. Well I’ll be…Things have just fallen into place.
I had to drop off a bunch of D@R* stuff to the new regent. She asked if I would meet her in the lobby of the place where she gets physical therapy. um. Oddly I found myself agreeing to do that & not even resenting the lady for asking me to leave my air conditioned house.
Once I was out & about I discovered I was in a pretty great mood. I was singing backup to some fab songs on the radio and and smiling at the truckers. I was anti Road Rage Rhoda. (a persona that I sometimes get when the fucking idiots of this town suddenly forget how to drive or that their car comes equipped with directional devices)
I think the optimism is proof that good can override evil. One shitty, horrible and LAME thing happened. But then all of this groovy wonderful stuff started happening. Operation: Get Me Tartan boots is in phase two thanks to an amazing woman in Germany. Operation: How the Fuck can I afford More Injectable Meds is also moving into phase two thanks to a very very generous couple in NY.
& people! I am a red head again! Once I got back from running my morning errands I slapped on some Miss Clairol (#110: Natural Light Auburn) & after 25 minutes I am back to ME. Well my hair was already heading back to the land of the ginger, but now I don’t have any more grey or dirty blonde roots. woo hooo!
AND (seriously, can you even believe that it is a fucking Monday??) I have an appointment to get my tattoo next wednesday afternoon in Jacksonville.
The funny thing that has just occurred to me is that I might feel so good because I am reclaiming a former version of myself. Actually it is my favorite version of me. The me from 1997. The crazy red head that moved to L.A. with only $125 and a studio apartment that she had rented without ever seeing first. The me before I let some asshole guy convince me to toss my tartan docs. The me that was making friends with tattoo artists and discovering rockabilly. The me that still called people “Sir” & “Ma’am” before some wanker boss publicly humiliated me for doing so. The me that drove a beat up convertible rabbit VW with a silk scarf tied around my hair.
I know that I can’t undo all of the parts of my life that I screwed up, but dammit if it isn’t the most amazing comfort to reclaim the parts that I loved.
in case you were wondering…
Because I couldn’t wait…
I tested this morning. So instead of saying it was negative I will say that it did not yet indicate a positive.
I’m a bit early on the testing at just ten days past ovulation. But I did one of those dumb early morning negotiations: If my temperature was above 98.4 then I would test. It was below then screw it. So when the digital thing beeped & the reading was 98.62 I went all apeshit & optimistic.
Then I realized that I didn’t have to pee as I vaguely remembered getting up to pee around 3am. (after having the most fucked up dream about being a new student in a high school for gifted students. Been having fucked up dreams since I started progesterone - so I think it is no mystery on that.)
Then I realized that I only had one stick of one brand of test: First Response. Not a fan. Just because. But I pissed on the wick just the same.
I need to go out get some cheap-o tests for tomorrow’s early morning negotiations.
At least I had a great help with distractions yesterday. Dr. Molly & I went to a double feature. The first flick was The Lake House. I had high hopes as the script was by one of my favorite authors, David Auburn. It was a good chick flick. I’m sure it is destined to end up on the TnT movie rotation with You’ve Got Mail and Serendipity and I will end up watching it every time it comes on.
The 2nd movie was Prairie Home Companion. If you are not familiar with Robert Altman’s work then you may be a bit surprised. It is not so much a movie, but a character piece. There are some scenes that are genuinely lovely. But more often then not I was aware that I was watching CINEMA and a lot was just over the top.
But I tell you the previews in front of both movies looked good! The new Woody Allen looks to be a fun, zany caper. & The sundance movie, Little Miss Sunshine, just makes me wish I could fly to NYC to watch it at the Angelika and munch on their amazing natural popcorn.
grover is blue too
grover
Originally uploaded by Calliope1.
So I am still down in the doldrums, can’t put myself in a “happy place” to save my life. Whatever. You know sometimes you just have to feel it and live it to get through it.
Shit. I sound like a running shoe commercial.
But that makes sense, right? Forcing myself to cheer up and be positive would be dangerous and unfair. So I refuse to do it. I’ve got my cell phone turned off and the shades pulled down. Time for decompressing.
& For those of you hanging on the edge of your seat regarding this cycle, well you can take a break. My morning temperatures have taken a three day nose dive. [For all you nonchart types, you know the ones thinking, "huh? Temperature?" Allow me to translate: I am not preggers.]
It is time to switch donors. I wonder if this is why I never could keep a boyfriend - the moment the dude disappoints he is replaced. But I resent Guy Smiley donor for not coming through. I don’t care if it is my deviled eggs that are to blame, I’m still blaming him.
So now the hunt is on for a new donor. I have three in mind but no clear champ. This is way more nerve wracking than doing match dot com, but I am just as ruthless. Maybe tomorrow I will walk you through my process. Or maybe not.
In the meantime I will share with you something my Mother e-mailed me that has continuously made me laugh. Except when the clip is over I go back to being sad. Go figure.
There is a new link on the right that says ‘Grover says hello’. It is an audio link, but it isn’t pervy. (Grover could never, ever be pervy.) But it is Grover saying hello to you and I dare you not to smile. I double dog dare you.
not that I wasted a digital or anything…
I actually didn’t need to test. If you catch my drift. Nothing like the OBVIOUS sign that you are not pregnant to start your day. And good morning to you, tampons.
To be honest I am not surprised. Nothing quite felt right about this cycle. I had swings of optimism, but all the family stress just sucked most of the hope out of me.
I had a full on raging breakdown Friday night. Don’t you just love those? I sobbed and wrote pages of indecipherable dribble in my spiral notebook by the bed. Most of the sentiments expressed were of the selfish variety. (those, “this is NOT the life I wanted” wails) I was wondering when they would kick in.
Boomerang of Denial
This weekend was a full one. Alert the media: I was social!
But it didn’t start off on such a great note. Saturday morning I woke up around 4am, and for whatever reason, I tasted metal in my mouth. It was if I had slept all night sucking on a penny. So even though I was still suffering from cramps there was this new voice in my head that said, “Oh! metal taste! Isn’t that a pregnancy symptom???” It is seriously a new level of denial when you are changing a tampon and convincing yourself that maybe you ought to go out & buy another pregnancy test. I had at least a good thirty minutes of crazy where I thought I was one of those women that get their periods but are really pregnant.
So did I take (another) pregnancy test?
Oh you know I did. & guess what, people?
I’m not pregnant.
So then I had to beat myself up a bit. Even as I was counting down the minutes before I would allow myself to look at the test I started smacking my forehead with the palm of my hand. I’m such an idiot! The very idea that I could sustain this deranged hour of denial is maddening. This break is very much necessary. But I won’t be on it alone - you will be relieved to know that the Shrink is making a comeback. Clearly I have some issues.
Reminder of my request for snow photos!! I know all of you foxies in the North East are swimming in the powder. Hook a girl up with some snow pictures.
A New Day
Thank you all for your words of support and hope.
I was able to tune out reality and live in denial until about eight last night. Then I was hit with a brick of overwhelming sadness. I went outside, walked down to the lake by my house, and sobbed. I tried to speak to God, but discovered that I was too angry at Him. So I prayed that He could see what was in my heart and send comfort.
I slept fitfully all night. It felt as if I was in mourning, which triggered all sorts of emotions for me. It was as if I had tapped into an emotional well that I had forgotten. I mourned for the failed cycle, I mourned for the dimming of my spirit, my loneliness, my discontent, my broken heart.
When I couldn’t get back to sleep at 5am I decided to get up and walk around the lake. I took my camera on impulse and on my 6th lap I took the image you see above.
But on those 6 laps something shifted in me. While I do think I should take a break, at least a month, I don’t think I am yet at the quitting point.
The realization makes me laugh even now. How is it that I am able to find that glimmer of hope within this? But there is no denying it- a sliver of something has managed to hang on. Something is telling me to keep going on.
I feel good about taking this break. It is a pause. The recognition that if I don’t stop and regroup I will harm myself.
Now that I am home and sipping on real coffee I feel a bit empowered. I have this time now to work on myself. I’ve already been proactive and signed up for a free online food journal. The journal has a place where you also log in your mood with each meal- something that I need to be aware of.
I’ve also started a list of all the things I’ve put off while trying to get knocked up: cleaning my office, organizing my closet, and the biggie- my fucking film. I also want to fill this month with play dates. I’ve done a bit of pissing and moaning about not having a social life. The truth is that I could have a social life if I worked at it. I’ve just shut down and hibernated for so long that I’m not sure how to get back into the fold of things. I had this silly notion that I would just emerge back, this glowing butterfly, with a round pregger’s belly. Ha fucking ha ha.
So the biggest part of the wallow is done. It wasn’t pretty, but it was necessary.
For those of you breaking as well- what are you planning on filling your dance card with?
BESIDES contributing to Photo Friday…
***Reminder- tomorrow’s theme is “Your bookcases”
Possible Golden Girls Situation
Well, first things first: I am not knocked up. I’m in a bit of denial about that at the moment so I will breeze on to the next order of business.
Mom got a “possible” job offer…in Florida.
I say possible because she hasn’t met with the company just yet. But since the world of commercial real estate attorneys is small they know her work & are officially courting her. She got the call this morning that a company was interested in her. We sort of looked at each other, shrugged, & thought, “well, that’s nice.” But didn’t think much of it.
Then an hour later she got a call that it was in Florida and then things kind of changed. We looked at each other and I think at the exact same time realized, ‘We might could do Florida.” (cue the Golden Girls theme song…)
I may need to clarify some of the thought process that is going on here. See my dream places to live are Seattle, San Fran, maybe North Carolina, maybe Boston or Philly. Mom would go anywhere that wasn’t Alabama. So imagine, if you will, that each of our “dream” cities are on a list with the farthest away city being ranked a 100. The cities closest to zero are the cities closest to Alabama. The lower the number the more apt we think GM would be to transition well.
Meaning- no way in hell would GM move to Boston or Seattle. I doubt we could get here anywhere that didn’t have sweet tea on the menu.
And actually a couple of months ago I doubt we would have even be considering a move. A while ago Mom got offered a job out in California and we were ridiculous giddy about it. But when we started thinking about the cross country move for GM we knew it couldn’t happen. Plus the pay, while nice, wouldn’t have made it worth it.
But now GM rarely wants to leave the house. Somehow a move…Within the South…seems almost doable.
And while I would never have put Jacksonville (that is the city in question, by the way) on any of my top ten (or twenty) list for a dream city it does offer something very, very appealing: it’s a fucking CITY and not a town.
Mom & I both got emotional over the idea of moving. I had no idea she felt as trapped as I did here. Both of us only existing to take care of GM: her financially, me everything else. But none of our human and creative needs are being met.
Mom also cleverly pointed out that Jacksonville is a big Navy town and that I would have access to a lot of sea men. (bwah ha ha - good one, Mom!)
So while it is still very much just a notion of a something I feel uplifted by the idea of a change. Just thinking about all the new opportunities out there…it makes me feel revitalized. I could go to massage school on the weekends!
As for the baby making project. I have to confess that I think that last try might really have been my last try. It could be that I have reached the end of my emotional tether. It could be the $10,000 bill I just got for my laparoscopy. It could be that it has really sunk in that I am just not meant to me a Mom. But I can say that I tried. I did everything in my power and then some.
You can’t always get what you want…isn’t that how the song goes?
Turning a New Leif
First of all - I can not stop chuckling over how many of you guys e-mailed me the shocking news about Big Daddy. We can officially relax as I am truly out this cycle. Can’t say I am surprised, but there is that initial moment of, “Fucking, shit, damn, not another failed fucking month!!” As much as you prepare for it, the actuality still smarts. Papa John will soon be coming to my rescue. (um…in the form of a spinach pizza, P.J. is not my new baby daddy. Although…)
By tomorrow I am guessing I will start getting giddy (!) for my new cycle. New meds, new donor…Hopefully a new result.
I will also catch up with all of you foxy blogging people. I feel very out of touch.
Most of my Philly pictures were close ups of snow (I’m a tad obsessed), but for shits & giggles here is a funny one: I look like the lead singer of the Spin Doctors!
I’m Back.
Before I begin, allow me to quote my (rather lengthy) horoscope that is mine, for the week, according to the Philadelphia City Paper. Ready?
“CAPRICORN: Stage magician David Copperfield made an intriguing announcement recently. He told the German magazine GALORE that in his next show he will use magic to make a woman pregnant- without touching her. That’s similar to the kind of mojo you will posses in 2006, Capricorn. It’s true that your success in the past has usually come from your pragmatic intelligence, organizational ability and thoroughness. But in the coming months you will also have a talent for conjuring beautiful illusions that ultimately become very real.”
& let us all have a moment of screaming, WTF?!?!?
Ah, how I wish I could say that I had in my hand, not a magic wand, but a pretty test result. But alas, my test is stark white. Still no signs of my period, but at 12 days post ovulation you’d think if I had magic beans in me they would be indicated. So I am considering this month a bust. Shazam!
The silver lining is that I didn’t have to deal with dashing into public restrooms all weekend to take care of business AND I didn’t have the stress of trying to get my injectable meds all sorted out while out of town.
The other kicker - I didn’t win the effing photo contest. Booooooooooo! One of my photos got an honorable mention. & there is still a chance that someone with good taste will buy my stuff while it is on exhibit. Am I bummed? Hell yes. But do I have to take the judging of some “Who??” guy from Mississippi to heart? No way. The winning piece was titled something like, “My Dog Is Cute”. hmmm. The cash prize would have been sweet, but I’ll take my green ribbon & sulk over here.
I’ll have some Philly photos up for your viewing pleasure as soon as I upload them. The headline for the weekend was: I HAD A BLAST! Now I need some sleep.
Please leave your rage (over my losing the contest) & your sympathy (over my failed hpt) at the beep.
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