Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Just missed my blogiversary...

July 24th!! Wow, a year on Blogger. Still can't believe it; think it's time for the "read my whole blog" marathon, although it will have to wait till the weekend.

And to think I thought I wouldn't stick with this. Yay me!!

The order of the universe is restored...

Yes, the mere mention of "well could I be pregnant?" is apparently enough to bring on the temp plunge and the spotting. Oh well; I was kind of craving sushi anyway; and now I can have an actual drink to celebrate my last day at work.

Funny though, that it kind of hurt to hear G *disappointed*. Not hurt like I'm upset that he is, he's just never reacted that way before. Which gives me a funny feeling in my stomach. As long as I'm the only one affected by this whole thing, it's really not that big a deal; having an outside party react makes it real. He even asked "well how long have we been trying since the surgery?" And he never used to inquire about charting, or at least not much.

It's harder to be nonchalant about this when I'm not the only one pretending everything's ok.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

My version of "Turn, Turn, Turn": a time to be random...

I'm having a major ADD-ish day today. Trouble concentrating on ANYTHING for more than five minutes, aside from the twenty I spent in the bookstore at lunchtime (oops). I found a book that I think is suited to me: it's called The Renaissance Soul: Life Design for People with Too Many Passions to Pick Just One. I'm hoping that it will point me in a direction that Do What You Are and The Career Guide for Creative and Unconventional People didn't back in the 90's. Perhaps I just didn't gain the right insights from them or strayed from the direction they were leading me but "Renaissance Soul" seems more suited to my "one hobby today, new hobby tomorrow" style. In fact, it may help me to make money at my hobbies or at the very least, learn to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Problem is, it keeps changing.
I hate to even say boo on this subject (because we all know what happens when I do), but my period is due today and is not here as of half an hour ago. I am sure that I will begin spotting any minute, but since I am not the type of person to keep *anything* to myself, I may as well come clean. I am hoping, but not hopeful. Hopeful got too difficult; hoping still guards my heart a bit but allows for a tiny bit of light to pass by. If things come and go as they normally do, though, I allowed myself the brief indulgence of checking when my due date would be, should I get pregnant next month -- you know, one of those things I alluded to doing in my recent "why isn't fertility fun anymore" post -- and wouldn't you know, it would end up being my birthday in '07. I share my birthday with my own mom, so should fortune not shine on me this month I am hoping that we can pull it off next month -- wouldn't that be a story! I would say stranger things have happened, but I hate to put the words 'strange' and 'pregnancy' in the same paragraph, just because.
On the subject of things that are really random *and* probably not the best topics for me to be focusing on but I do them anyway, I am going to fill-in for my best friend at her store while she goes on a buying trip later in August. Why, you ask, is this not the best laid plan for me?? Yep, she owns a maternity store. But I volunteered -- remind me of this when I am bitter and woefully depressed. I'm hoping I won't be, but I should know better by now, right?
Ok, random time is over... I need to focus. On writing something other than a random blog post. Transition documents are hard to write when you're feeling random, just so you know.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Marked woman

I'm not sure why it surprises me to know this about myself, but I would love to get a tattoo. Perhaps it's that outwardly I'm rather conservative: wearing plain colored shirts and pants more often than printed *anything*; rarely wear jewelry even though I love it (just won a necklace at eBay and am bidding on another). So a tattoo seems to be the anti-me.

However, I've wanted one for some time. My brother is nine years younger than me and I remember that I wanted one a few years before he got his, the day he turned eighteen. He came home with his comedy/tragedy masks (beautiful work, BTW) and I admired it, and secretly wished I had nerve enough to get one.

I considered it once, when I was in Toronto on a college trip... at that time I'd have gotten something musical, like a G-clef or eighth note. Nothing big or fancy, I always thought, just something small.

Once I met G, I recall the conversation where he told me that he didn't like tattoos on women. At that point in time, tattoos were not the commonplace thing they are now, and so I could kind of see his point; when we went to rock concerts and saw what young people would now call "old-school" tats on women that were in their sixties, I thought, "yeah, I guess they don't always look that great." So we made kind of a pact, of sorts: he said he'd always thought about shaving his head, which I told him I didn't want him to do (I love his hair) but he said he'd only do it if I got a tattoo. We were joking, mostly, calling it our relationship's version of "mutually assured destruction."

Over the years, though, my desire to get a tattoo never waned. I developed a fascination with all things Irish/Celtic and decided that *if* I were ever to get one, I'd choose something inspired by the book of Kells. To keep from feeling as though I was missing out by not getting one, I kept the thought in the back of my head that I wouldn't be all that crazy about the pain/blood aspect. I'd get temporary tattoos applied when I'd go to festivals or concerts and that generally kept me satisfied. At one point I decided that I was "too old" to get one, anyway.

Then, two summers ago, I went to a Counting Crows concert with G and two of my co-workers. While there was no tattoo booth at the concert there *was* a piercer, and on a dare of sorts another coworker and I said we'd get our navels pierced if the other coworker got her nose pierced, since she really wanted to do it. (She didn't realize that she couldn't just start with a cute little rhinestone stud, though, and although she left with a nose ring she took hers out a few days later.) I remember thinking that the piercing didn't hurt as much as I'd imagined it would, until I stood up from the chair and felt as though I was going to faint. I recovered quickly enough, thankfully, but that kind of put the fear back into me that I'd never be able to stand the pain of getting a tattoo. (Incidentally, I wasn't able to keep my navel piercing, as it got infected and I had to remove it, but I think about redo-ing it, if I ever get skinny again. More on that another posting.)

So, the dream of having a tattoo was put away. Until recently. I was looking up information about "Elvish" after *finally* watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and in so doing came upon a tattoo site that not only did Elvish tattoo designs, they did Celtic designs. And there, I found this:

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

It's a Celtic motherhood knot. While this person hadn't done so, I found other pictures where the dots were colorized to represent birthstones of children. More than anything, I find myself wanting one of these with a dot on each side, to represent the children that could have been.

I could probably do just as well by finding some way to get this converted into a pendant or other type of "wearable" piece. There's a thousand reasons why I shouldn't get one, most of all that it's silly, really; I am still not the type to get a tattoo.

I'll keep telling myself that until I believe it.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

holy crapola, I'm vested!

Opened my retirement statement this a.m. and got the best surprise of all -- sticking it out for as long as I did (i.e., over 1000 hours into my fifth year there) means that my employer match is mine, all mine.

Does that mean there was a subconscious method to my madness?

Thursday, July 20, 2006

pay no attention to the insecure woman behind the curtain...

Ok, yeah, so I'm still insecure. I really have to remember that I should be doing this to express my feelings, not for anyone else's approval/comment/criticism. (That being said, though, thank you for your kind comments!) In the struggle with my 8th-grade "why doesn't anyone want to sit at my table for lunch?" feelings, however, I forgot to blog about my most important news: I've turned in my resignation. My last day will be August 4.

Everyone there keeps asking where I'm going and my standard answer is "nowhere, fast!" with a big grin on my face; I guess technically this would be considered "pursuing other opportunities" or "exploring my options." These options may involve nothing more than temping or working retail, but I think it's what I need. I can't handle the stress anymore. When getting yelled at by an end user brings me to tears (or as G said, when a 36-yr old thinks she's having a heart attack), it's time -- well past it, probably -- to do something else. And so I will.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Even the crickets are silent.

Well, my last entry apparently made me sound enough like a clueless fertile to drive everyone running and screaming away from my blog; for better or worse, there's a side of me that is rather naive and innocent: I like Meg Ryan romantic comedies, I want my life to have a fairy tale ending, and I enjoyed (most of) the people on my old fertility-related boards. If it weren't for the fact that I no longer feel like I fit in, I'd probably still be there.

Fact is, I'm not sure where I fit in. I recently saw a quiz* on Catherine's blog that asked "what kind of empath are you?" Several of the questions dealt with how well you felt you fit in with people and with the world as a whole. Perhaps it's just my general melancholy state over the past year that influences my feelings, but I just feel as though I stick out like a sore thumb in so many situations. I don't remember ever feeling this way, even during the awkward middle- and high-school days, because I've always been a person that enjoys making friends. Maybe it's that now, I worry too much about what other people think of me. (Yes, that's what this whole blog entry is about -- I want you to LIKE me, darnit!!)

*For what it's worth, my results on the Empath Quiz are as follows:

You scored as Universal. You are a Universal Empath, you possess all the qualities of the other seven empath groups. You are what is known as an "Implicate" or Imp, a product of evolutionary design and genetic mutation. You are a psychic hybrid. (from "The Book of Storms" by Jad Alexander at

What Kind of Empath Are You?
created with

The genetic mutation thing is really kind of funny. I'm laughing impishly right about now.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Older, wiser... bitter.

I remember when chart obsession was a fun thing.

It seems a long time ago now, although it was less than two years ago that I was really happy to be trying to have a baby. I obsessed with online buddy groups, checked my symptoms multiple times a day, kept track of my temps and knew what cycle day I was on immediately when I woke up in the morning. I would wait for the interpretation to say "most fertile," would look for signs of triphasic temperatures, would obsess over how many times we'd done the deed before I ovulated.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that the actual act of making a baby is getting old; we (luckily?) didn't go through that many cycles before the miscarriages where sex to make a baby became a "chore" like so many couples I've heard about. Although it really sucked to get pregnant quickly enough to have two miscarriages in six months, I know that in the grand scheme of trying to conceive, I was quite lucky. But really, the rest of it is all so... trying. Excuse the pun.

Of course, now that we're past the surgery I have to wonder if my ability to get pregnant quickly has waned. Granted, there have been things that have gotten in the way (damn job, primarily) making some cycles go by with nary a chance. I was counting the other day and really, we're only on our eighth cycle since the surgery, and out of the previous seven, only four were cycles that we actually tried. It took us four cycles after the first miscarriage to get pregnant again, so I'm really not that far off, considering.

But I hate that the fun of trying to make a baby is gone. Again, not *that* fun; I mean the "OMG do you think we have a chance this month?" and "how long do you think I should wait to test?" Yeah, it may have been slightly clueless but the alternative - flat reality - is not all that appealing, and doesn't lend itself to much in the way of hope. I just want a reason for hope, however fleeting, to return.

Monday, July 10, 2006

I want a do-over.

The simplest concept: just try again. And yet because I am 36 and have never had a child and wonder every day whether I'll actually ever become a mother, sometimes I think "well, I shouldn't HAVE to try again; I should just get a 'do-over.'

In so many areas of my life, I'd like a 'do-over;' to choose a college program that I would actually put to use, or a first job that I'd actually want to keep. To not make bad decisions or choices I'd live to regret. I watched the movie "13 going on 30" recently and imagined how wonderful it would be to go back, safe with the knowledge of how you'd screwed up the first time, and get the opportunity to make a better choice. To be a better person.

On the subject of kids, though, I'd really like to have a better first chance. A do-over on the waiting, the frustration. Go back and 'do-over' all the fights that made having a child such a big deal in the first place. Find a better way to convince G sooner that he would make a good father, like I think he eventually figured out on his own, after the losses. Start over with the BFP in December 2004 and today be the proud mommy of an almost-one-year old.

I can't have a do-over, I know. I just ache so badly for a child of my own and although some people say that I seem stronger for what we've been through, I know I'm really not. I feel this hurt in my heart nearly every day and it just won't stop.

I wonder if it ever will.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Ignorance lost

A year ago at this time, I was under the assumption that I had made it past the danger zone. Past the date at which we'd had the first miscarriage, finally past my eight week appointment, close enough to the end of the first trimester that I started to have hope.

I was merely twelve hours away from the truth.

Ignorance is bliss. That's all I can say.