Thursday, June 29, 2006


Loss has struck, once again.

Please, if you know Jill, go over and give her some support. Even if you don't know her, actually. She's a strong woman to go through what she's been through, but I wish she didn't have to be this strong.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

how exactly does one add insult to injury?

Does it require complex math? A calculator or abacus?

So you'd think I'd have learned by now, any time I post anything whatsoever remotely resembling hope that I may possibly oh-please-pick-me-this-month be pregnant, a day or so later I get the signs that say "HA! The Universe is laughing."

Just discovered I'm spotting, and with that a whole chartful of sore boobs can go out the window.

Now only that, G and I are fighting, big time fight this time, a continuation of the one we were having right around the time we *should* have been having "let's make a baby" sex. Hence the silent death march of my LP this month.

How can I go from semi-ponderously-almost-optimism one day to "my life sucks all around, and there's no escaping it" the next? Well, I'm talented that way I guess. That and I probably need to revisit the therapy option.

In the meantime, I think I can carry the one, but what do we do with the remainder?

Sunday, June 25, 2006

you can't always get what you want...

I was sitting on my deck yesterday, painting my nails, giving myself a pedicure, generally doing nothing whatsoever but relaxing, and enjoying myself completely -- until I heard the adorable two-year old across the street laugh out loud while playing in the front yard. It snapped me out of my relaxation and started me thinking.

I can remember when we moved into our neighborhood and had our first "congregate with the neighbors" event, Labor Day weekend of 2002. At that point G hadn't agreed to have kids yet, so hearing D & D -- yes, they had the same first initials, but no, they didn't give their son a "D" name, thank God -- talk about how much they wanted kids seemed like a sharp kick to the abdomen. As I'd gotten used to doing by that point, I smiled and changed the subject.

I can also remember running into D & D while getting the mail a few months after the first miscarriage. They had their almost-one-year-old with them and said "you need to have a baby so B has a playmate." I told them what had happened (probably more than they wanted to hear, but oh well) and the husband said something about not getting discouraged and that he knew a lot of people who had one but went on to have perfectly healthy kids. I think I smiled again, although possibly more forced at that point, and instead of changing the subject, excused myself to go back inside.

After the second miscarriage, I avoided going outside except when necessary, except to go to and from work. G took responsibility for telling our neighbors what had happened if the situation presented itself, such as when they asked why they never saw me.

So flash forward to yesterday, and my sudden and abrupt change of thought: how the grass is always greener. That evening I was going out with my friend H, who is almost 39 and single, to provide a distraction for the fact that her most recent ex-boyfriend, nine years or so younger than her, was getting married. I know that to H, my grass looks pretty green; I have a husband, something she wants desperately but has been surprisingly unable to find thus far. And so it is for me with D across the street and her toddler. I wonder whether there is anyone that D envies; or whether perhaps in some way, she may have looked over to see me relaxing on my deck without a care in the world (so it may have appeared) and thought "I wish I had time to do that."

How green is my grass to others? Why doesn't it appear greener for me?

There's no good answer, really; many a person has thought "I will be happy once I [insert option]" knowing full well that the reality is that their grass will merely change hue until they see the next lawn that they envy.

Making an analogy about the type of fertilizer you feed your lawn/self seems both amusing and sarcastic at the same time, so I will pass on that one. I don't have a green thumb, anyway.

Friday, June 23, 2006

The five things I learned from my visit to the ER

1. Pain in one's right arm, when accompanied by certain types of indigestion symptoms, such as gas pain high in the torso, feels remarkably similar to what I've heard a heart attack feels like.

2. If you are having such symptoms, they will surely go away the moment the ER nurses hook up the EKG machine.

3. Peeling sticky EKG leads off of areas on your chest that are already somewhat sore (i.e., your boobs) is unpleasant, at best.

4. My d-dimer is normal. I know what my d-dimer is now, also.

5. When the radiology tech who's doing your portable chest X-ray says "there's no chance you could be pregnant, right?", stammering "uh, uh" and telling her what cycle day you're on is an acceptable answer.

So yeah, at 2:30 am last night I was convinced I was having chest pain. I've had this weird pain in my right arm that has come and gone for about a week, but since I have fibromyalgia (and I'm keeping such weird hours these days) I didn't think anything of it... until the weird pain that felt like pressure in my chest started. I woke G up and told him to take me to the ER. Turns out it was probably gas, or indigestion, or both. I felt remarkably silly, but all the nurses kept telling me it's never a good idea to ignore something like that, no matter what it turns out to be. And given my family history with MTHFR, it's definitely something that I need to watch.

I forgot; there's a sixth thing: any pregnancy symptoms that you may have been experiencing prior to the ER visit (i.e., those damn sore boobs) will be gone the next day, leaving you to wonder whether you imagined them in the first place, whether they were merely signs that your period's coming, or whether it means the X-ray, lead apron or no, made implantation impossible. Time will tell I suppose.

At least my d-dimer's normal, if the rest of me isn't.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


Coming up for air is a good idea, on occasion.

Work has given me the weirdest schedule during this deployment so far: four days of 11p-7a, two days off; four days of 7a-3p, two days off; two days of 11p-7a, one day off. Today I start working the 3-11p shift, but only do so for three days, followed by one day of 11p-7a, then one day off, then a day of 3-11p. I'm so confused I'm not sure what day it is most of the time.

But I do know that I'm in the midst of a possible two-week wait.

Possible may seem an odd word to use in this instance, but it's really all that fits. No clue when or if I ovulated? Check. Only one attempt during the theoretical "fertile time"? Check. Symptoms that could just as easily be attributed to high levels of stress from my crap-for-crap job? Check, check and check. The fact that I desperately want to be pregnant so that I can have an excuse to quit doesn't factor in at all. (Riiight.)

So, I guess this means I'll float here near the surface for a while, keeping my head above water while waiting for rescue. Hopefully on a seaworthy ship.