A few weeks ago, before our hellish bout with the flu, BD & I were cuddled up in bed thinking about what was going on this time last year. How excited we were and the planning were doing. I looked at him and told him I was ready to try for another baby, like really ready. Seriously ready to actively try. Surprisingly, he said he felt the same way. The wait & see approach isn't work for either of us any more. We need action & a plan. So . . .
It's serious this time. I broke down and ordered the Clear Blue Fertility monitor & another Basal thermometer. I have the alarm set every morning and my routine down:
1.) Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
2.)Convince Jeff to turn off "his" alarm.
3.)Pop thermometer in mouth, listen to "soothing" beeps & try not to fall back asleep.
4.) Memorize temp as I hop out of bed & turn on monitor.
5.) Pee on stick of the sex machine (as BD refers to it) if tells me to or go back to sleep if no sex is in our immediate future.
6.) If pee was neccessary, pop stick into machine & fall back asleep while it calculates our chances of having sex that day.
7.) Wake up to see if BD is going to get lucky or just a blister on his hand.
And that's how my day starts now.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Sorta Nervous
Faint pink line. Several familiar symptoms. No finger nails left. Perma-grin glued to my face. Constant pit of anxiety in my belly. And maybe something else?
Sunday, December 21, 2008
One Year Ago . . .
My Monkee was conceived. Well, sometime during this time period. As I just completed laying my golden egg for the month, I can't help but wonder if lightening will strike twice. If it does, will my second Monkee stick around?
I laid in bed the other night thinking that Monkee should be beside me. I should be preparing for his first Christmas with us. He should be snuggling next to me as I stroke his chubby little cheeks and smell the sweet scent of the lotion I rubbed all over him after his bath. Instead my fingers were brushing the cold fabric of my pillow as the Pup Royalty fought over the comforter. I miss him. I want him so bad. I want lightening to strike again, but I'm scared that it will and I'll loose another Monkee. Or that if it does, I won't be the mother that I want to be. Maybe this is what my life is supposed to be. I look around at all my nieces and my nephew, and my friend's children that seem to grow like weeds and my heart still breaks. As much as I bury the want to be a mother, it never goes completely away. I want to go back to that place I was at last year. I was happy with the thought of it being me, BD, and whatever pets we have at the time. That would be our happy little family. If we ever got our uterus parasite, great. If we didn't, it was ok. I was comfortable with the fact that God had other plans for us. I don't have that sense of comfort anymore. I have doubt. Doubt that I will ever have a child of my own, if I am capable of being a good mother, if I will ever be able to adopt a child. . . I'm tired of the doubt. I want to go back to that place of comfort. I want to feel ok with it all again.
I laid in bed the other night thinking that Monkee should be beside me. I should be preparing for his first Christmas with us. He should be snuggling next to me as I stroke his chubby little cheeks and smell the sweet scent of the lotion I rubbed all over him after his bath. Instead my fingers were brushing the cold fabric of my pillow as the Pup Royalty fought over the comforter. I miss him. I want him so bad. I want lightening to strike again, but I'm scared that it will and I'll loose another Monkee. Or that if it does, I won't be the mother that I want to be. Maybe this is what my life is supposed to be. I look around at all my nieces and my nephew, and my friend's children that seem to grow like weeds and my heart still breaks. As much as I bury the want to be a mother, it never goes completely away. I want to go back to that place I was at last year. I was happy with the thought of it being me, BD, and whatever pets we have at the time. That would be our happy little family. If we ever got our uterus parasite, great. If we didn't, it was ok. I was comfortable with the fact that God had other plans for us. I don't have that sense of comfort anymore. I have doubt. Doubt that I will ever have a child of my own, if I am capable of being a good mother, if I will ever be able to adopt a child. . . I'm tired of the doubt. I want to go back to that place of comfort. I want to feel ok with it all again.
Monday, September 3, 2007
A Good Place to Start
I think that would be here ~~~~> X
I've been contemplating moving my blog away from Myspace for awhile now. I always felt restricted about what I could write about there. I felt a pressure to only write about the happy things, the things that I knew would make my friends laugh and feel happy. Anytime I posted about how I really felt about something, I felt like I was isolating my friends or maybe myself because I knew that it would make them uncomfortable to realize that not everything was happy go lucky like I led them to believe. I wanted to be a "Happy Good Time" friend. But as I've gotten older, I've realized I've surrounded myself with Happy Good Time friends, but I don't have a single "Serious" friend. Every time one of those surveys come around that ask who your best friend is I always leave it blank or make some witty comment about all of my friends being the bestest. It finally dawned on me~ I don't have a best friend, besides my husband. The only person I could pour myself out to was the blank pages of the one special journal I keep hidden from everyone. It contains all of my doubts, fears, and just plain craziness that I deemed weren't right for Myspace. Sadly, I'm the only one who ever reads those entries and its hard to get feedback from one's own crazy self. I can look at entries from years past and laugh at myself or think "this is what you should do T" but it takes time to get perspective and sometimes time is not an option when you need support and encouragement right then. So this is my effort. Maybe I'll get a few readers, maybe I wont get a single one. But at least my craziness will be out there without me feeling guilty.
I've been contemplating moving my blog away from Myspace for awhile now. I always felt restricted about what I could write about there. I felt a pressure to only write about the happy things, the things that I knew would make my friends laugh and feel happy. Anytime I posted about how I really felt about something, I felt like I was isolating my friends or maybe myself because I knew that it would make them uncomfortable to realize that not everything was happy go lucky like I led them to believe. I wanted to be a "Happy Good Time" friend. But as I've gotten older, I've realized I've surrounded myself with Happy Good Time friends, but I don't have a single "Serious" friend. Every time one of those surveys come around that ask who your best friend is I always leave it blank or make some witty comment about all of my friends being the bestest. It finally dawned on me~ I don't have a best friend, besides my husband. The only person I could pour myself out to was the blank pages of the one special journal I keep hidden from everyone. It contains all of my doubts, fears, and just plain craziness that I deemed weren't right for Myspace. Sadly, I'm the only one who ever reads those entries and its hard to get feedback from one's own crazy self. I can look at entries from years past and laugh at myself or think "this is what you should do T" but it takes time to get perspective and sometimes time is not an option when you need support and encouragement right then. So this is my effort. Maybe I'll get a few readers, maybe I wont get a single one. But at least my craziness will be out there without me feeling guilty.
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