July 23, 2014 – The second half of my day.

If you haven’t read the first half, you should.


I went home from work that day at warp speed.  The dog and I retreated to the bathroom with more tests and I started peeing while she started attacking flying wrappers.  We lined those positive tests up and I was more convinced this was true.  I had math to do.  How the hell did this happen?!  I was clearly in shock.  I pulled out my app, crossed out some nights, figured in when doctor appointments were, what happened when, carried the one, decided that night was laughable sex and that night rocked, so that night was obviously it.  We managed to get pregnant that night.  I did more math, okay I googled, and came up with an approximate due date.  Just like that we have a plan from A to B.  Or more like from today till April 3rd.

I stared at the calendar.  We can manage a third anniversary trip that involves adult drinks and a beach, with friends after this kid comes around.  I made a mental note.  Timing looked good.

The dog stared at me and was clearly feeding off my anxiety so I figured we should remain calm until the Husband came home.  Mostly, remain normal.  I called him with my best “everything is normal” tone.  He said he would be extra late getting home from work.  I burst into tears.  It wasn’t anything near the “normal” I was going for.  He called back five minutes later to make sure I was okay, apparently I was acting irrational.

I took the dog for a long walk, we came home and did yoga, we sat outside and read a book.  I paced.  I watched my DVR.  I paced.  I did more yoga.  I needed a glass of wine.  Oh, wait! Last night was the last time I would drink for 9 months. I hit the panic button.  I watched the clock.  The dog stared at me.

The Husband finally walked in the door a little after 10:30 pm.  Normally my ass would have happily been in bed but I was perched on the couch.  The dog jumped for him and he asked how my day was.  I didn’t give this moment a ton of thought to be honest.  Some do this big, grand, tell their Husband they are going to be a Daddy from Pinterest thing but I hadn’t thought that far ahead.  I had done too much math and peeing for the day.  My brain was full.

I went with the first thing that came out of my mouth “I didn’t know last night was going to be my last glass of wine for nine months!” Apparently I went with my first concern and started tearing up.

He stood there and started smiling.  “Does this mean you are pregnant?”

I pulled out the millions of pee sticks and the dog stood proudly next to them.  Yep, this meant I was pregnant.  We sat on the couch in a bit of shock and talked.  There were tears.  (from me)  There was laughing.  (from him)  We then went to bed and before we went to sleep the last thing we discussed was how nothing would be as we have known it again.

The following night we ceremoniously sat outside on the back deck and I had my official last glass of wine until next April.



July 23, 2014 – The first half of the day.

There is this funny thing that happens when you spend months trying to conceive.  You will spend every month noticing the tiniest symptoms and will try to mentally turn them into pregnancy symptoms.  At least that is what I have been doing.  I would blame this or that and eventually take a pregnancy test which would be followed by my period no less than 5 minutes later.  Or so it seemed.  It was like a horrible running joke.

Last Monday, July 21, I was doing just that.  I wrote off the month of July because basically, my doc said too.  Sure, there was an egg on each side but the viable side was way to small for anything and the good egg was on the broken right side. She wasn’t even bothering with a trigger shot.  We would see what August held for us.  So then Tuesday rolled around and I was telling my Husband that I was having cramps that went on for days and clearly this new fertility drug had some side effects.  It was also making me a bit emotional, which was new, because I’m the least emotional girl.  I don’t get PMS, I don’t get hormonal, nothing.  I know, I’m weird.  But here I was ready to cry in the middle of the furniture store because I couldn’t find chairs I wanted.  My Husband looked at me like I had lost my mind.  He offered me wine.

By Wednesday morning, July 23, I was still having cramps and figured my period would surely come in time to annoy my boating weekend.  Wait, every weekend is boating weekend, so either way it sucks.  I figured I would just get the routine negative pregnancy test out of the way before I left for work.  I peed, the dog sat and stared, I set it on the counter and went to find shoes.  I forgot about the test and came back 15 minutes later.  I stared.  I said “holy shit!”  I got the box out.  I read the directions.  I compared pictures on the box to the picture on the stick.  I sat down.  The dog tried to eat the pregnancy test.  I said “holy shit!” some more.  I walked in circles and went back  to comparepictures again.

That test said I was pregnant.


22 months of nothing and now pregnant.  On the month I shouldn’t get pregnant.  Impossible.


But I had to go to work.

Pregnant, that is what it said, right?!

I don’t think I remember that drive to work.  I don’t think I remember much of what I did that day at work because I spent most of the day on this emotional roller coaster that I did not expect.  I went to Target at lunch to buy a million more tests because surely that test at home was wrong . Surely I need to pee on 50 more to make sure.  I also bought hair ties at Target with my tests because suddenly, buying just those tests, over lunch, seemed weird.  So hair ties and pregnancy tests.  I even bought the kind that are digital that flat-out say “pregnant” or “not pregnant.”  I felt like I needed to make this as simple as possible because suddenly my brain wasn’t functioning.  I couldn’t handle double lines or plus and minus signs.  It all seemed like math and I couldn’t solve for X in a moment like this.

That emotional roller coaster, that was real.  That was unexpected.  I felt like crying.  I felt like laughing.  I felt happy, sad, joy, scared, freaked, confused….you name it, it happened that day.  I didn’t want to talk to the Husband on the phone because I was afraid I would blurt it out.  I called my doctor and they ordered me in for blood tests.  Then my brain started on chances of miscarriage, ectopic pregnancies and everything else my doctor had warned me about.

Like I said, emotional.  And that was just the first half of that day.

But after 22 months of infertility, I was pregnant.




On Turning 32

Last week I slowly slid from the age of 31 to 32.  While my Birthday is July 10th, the celebration usually begins on July 4th and continues until the weekend after my actual date.  I have no idea why this is.  Perhaps it is the awesomeness that is a summer birthday but it happens every year and this was no different.

I celebrated quietly and loudly, depends on what day you ask about.  There were quiet dinners, family, boating, presents, wine and rum.  A few of my favorite things in no particular order.

There were also two trips to the fertility specialist.  One the day prior to my birthday and one the day after…..because that is how everyone should celebrate.  On the first trip Doc mentioned what a great birthday present it would be for me to be ovulating on the working side.

Yes, exactly what I always thought I would be dreaming of for my 32 birthday.

Once again, I’m ovulating on the side that is blocked.

Next month she will up the drugs that I take and try to get the unblocked side (my left side) to ovulate as well.  Her positive outlook is that it has to trigger at some point.  How long do I have to wait for that?  She isn’t sure.

How long do we sit around and do this roller coaster every month waiting for the left side to ovulate?  AND then when it does happen on my left side there are no guarantees. (Obviously)  THEN what happens if I have to wait many more months for that side to trigger again?

Then my brain exploded.

My doctor patted me on the shoulder and said one month at a time.  Yea, like my Husband repeats from AA, one day at a time to keep on a sober path.  But I’m not trying to get sober here, just knocked up.  I suppose sobriety comes with that though.

Ten years ago my 22 year old self wished for many different things on my birthday.  Probably NOT to be pregnant because I had a few of those moments.  I didn’t pay attention to ovulation nor did I care.  I just didn’t want that time of month to come along on the wrong day and fuck with my plans.

Oh, the difference 10 years makes.  Welcome to being an adult.  It is all a trap, I tell ya.


Living in the moments of Summer

I live for summer.  The warm days, endless nights, weekends full of get-togethers and boating.  Since putting our rental house on the market, the Husband and I have been able to stop, breathe and enjoy our summer.  I cannot tell you enough how great this has been for our marriage.  I knew we were getting beat down with the schedule that we were running on but I don’t think I realized how bad it was getting until we came up for air.  So, I want to hit some of the highlights.

We took Rebecca and went to Colorado for a vacation.  I may be completely OCD but I’m pretty good at letting go and throwing planning out the window when on vacation.  I made myself stop before I snapped about timing, late nights or not fitting everything in.  It just didn’t matter, if we worked in something and not others, that was fine.  The only thing that mattered was living in the moment.  We were able to visit friends, go horseback riding, white water rafting and to the top of Pikes Peak. We lingered over drinks and dinner.  We stopped and chatted with strangers.  We put the phones, electronics, etc. down and looked at what God had put in front of us.  It was amazing, memorable and worth every penny.

The past month we were able to put our infertility issues on the back burner until it was time to start the new fertility drug.  There was nothing we could do about making a baby for a few weeks so we didn’t need to worry about it. A well needed break.

We were able to focus on our own new home instead of the rental.  We took the time to organize the garage and basement.  We discussed the order of winter projects or what needed to get done before winter hit.  Sometimes we took a break from those weekend projects and we sat in the front yard, in the middle of the afternoon, and just talked.  Hubby with a cigar, me with a glass of wine, just because there was no reason not to.  Some nights we sat on the tail gate of the pickup, with the garage door opened, and watched the rain come down.  These little moments, in all the big moments, are when I fall in love with that Husband of mine even more.

I really hate the “busy” excuse so many people use these days towards friends.  Granted we all have those times where we really are swamped with life but not for years straight.  I have been working on making sure to call those people I don’t always get a chance to call, dropping a note to some, and making the effort to meet up for drinks or dinner with others.  I don’t always jump to say “no” but instead find the time to say “yes” where it feels right.  Life is too short to keep putting people off.

I have found time to read new blogs, read books, breathe longer in yoga, get to projects I’ve been ignoring.  I lounge in a boat for hours in my swimsuit and wear comfy dresses to work with comfy shoes.  I have taken a lot of afternoons off from work and taken the dog on some long hikes.  Enjoying the fact that I have a no-stress job for once and not a whole lot demanding my time.  Essentially, taking the time for myself and not feeling guilty about it.

We are only halfway through the summer and it feels refreshing.  I don’t feel like it is slipping away but I am honestly enjoying it.


This is why we aren’t pregnant

We were just running into the city real fast.  It is 20 miles in and 20 miles back.  The skies were clear until we came out of the store and headed home.  The skies were now black and I had a death grip on the wheel as we went straight into the storm.  My Husband sat there in silence as he knew I didn’t need him telling me how to drive in 70 mph wind gusts. Instead he used his imaginary brake.  I pulled my truck to the left and the wind blew me to the right.  I cussed under my breath and glanced at my Husband who said,  “You know, this is why we aren’t pregnant yet.  Who gets stuck in a storm like this pregnant?  Bad parenting.” I laughed.

Two nights later my Husband was in his truck in front of me on the highway.  Behind me was a dear friend of mine, in her car, who happens to be pregnant.  We were trying to get from the city to our town.  The skies were black, sirens going off in every small town. We were weaving our way across back roads threatening to wash out.  I was on the phone with my Husband as we were both trying to watch the sky as we were driving.  We were debating on the clouds rotating above us, trying to determine if they were going to drop down or not. All the while keeping another eye on my friend behind me, making sure her car could keep up and she didn’t blow away.  We were both silent on the phone when he said, “You know this is why we aren’t pregnant yet.  We have to get our friend home safely.  I can only handle one pregnant woman at a time.”  I laughed.

After that storm hit our town and home, our stress level went through the ceiling.  It was a rare night we both got home early, ready to start digging through to find our yard, when another storm grew black in the skies.  I went inside and grabbed a glass of wine.  I rejoined my Husband and we stood in the middle of the yard, staring at the sky and I said, “You know, this is why I’m not pregnant yet.  The only way I’m making it through this week is with a lot of wine.  Can’t do that pregnant.”  He laughed.

It has been the running commentary for the past few months. Finding those moments where you are glad you aren’t pregnant.  You find the positive in it.  You laugh at it because sometimes it is just easier.  If you don’t laugh you’ll lose your mind.

Clomid-Month One

My regular OB/GYN took me as far as she could on my infertility journey before handing me over to the fertility specialist in her office.  The specialist and I met for the first time a few weeks ago and I love her.  We went over the past 20 months of what we have done and the testing.  She did an ultrasound to determine which side I had ovulated from last month and then we discussed starting the Clomid.  I had ovulated from my right side which is my blocked sideNormally you ovulate from one side one month and the next side the following month.  A nice little take turn process within your uterus.

Perfect. That meant I would take the Clomid and would ovulate from my good side this month.

Or Not.

Apparently my body has a different plan.  I went in for another ultrasound for us to find out I’m once again ovulating from the blocked side.  We won’t be having any luck this month and will not be doing a trigger shot or anything else.

To top it off my lining is very thin and I have to quit doing cardio and try to gain some weight.  This is the funniest part.  I can’t gain weight.  Been trying for 14 years.

Next month we will try a different drug that will hopefully not thin the lining as much but this month is pretty much a bust.  My doc gave me a brief smile and said it doesn’t hurt to try when I ovulate next week but don’t get my hopes up to high for results.

I walked out through the waiting room holding 8, count them, 8 happy pregnant couples.

This week has been frustrating enough and this was the cherry on top.

This is a waiting game.  Try this, try that, wait a week, wait 11 days, wait 3 days, wait for you period, try this, try that, wait a month.  You count, you keep apps, you pee on stick after stick, you count forwards and backwards and make another docters appointment.  Do all this on top of your normal life and I’m fucking exhausted this week.

Bright side-I can drink tonight.


When Balance in Life is Gone

You know, Preschool was so easy.  You had snack time, a nap, some toys and that was your day.  Maybe you learned a thing or two.  Hell, being 4 was easy, it wasn’t just Preschool.  But Preschool was your “job.”  How easy.

I really want to go back to being in Preschool.

The life where you are blissfully unaware of how long the days can get and you don’t know the meaning of stress.  I could probably get there now actually.  At 31 it looks more like a beach with someone handing you a drink with an umbrella in it but I just can’t quite get there right now.

Instead, this week is kicking my ass.  We had a storm roll through our small town and drill us with baseball size hail.  While there is a lot of damage, we are very lucky it is not much worse.  We are now in fix-it mode.  Our 8 month old house has a demolished roof, windows, deck, AC unit, and much more.  This week has been full of storm stress, clean up stress, phone calls, unexpected time off from work, rearranging of schedules and so on.  This doesn’t even count going to work and helping my customers with their own storm claims.

I was handling it okay until I woke up today and I’m exhausted.  I’ve been trying to get a grip on finding some balance.  I tried to sit and have a glass of wine last night with a friend and that worked for about 2 seconds.  I can’t get a grip on anything today.

We put our rental house on the market this week, I have another appointment with my fertility specialist on Friday, we are leaving for vacation next week, we have 5ft sinkhole in our backyard and then the storm gets thrown on my lap this week.

I wave the white flag.

Preschool, I’m sorry I rushed you.