It's quite obvious, and if you are already a part of my life you have figured this out, I am a horrible friend. Really, I become even more of a horrible friend when I move away. I write this in reply to a comment left by a very old friend (no, not by age but by the time she has known me). Really there is no response except a post full of understandable excuses. I don't mean to be a horrible friend, I don't mean to be a jerk. Actually, I take back the becoming a horrible friend when I move away part because I already have upset a friend here in the state I live in by my act of jerkery. I don't mean to. I truly don't. In my mind I see myself being this awesome friend that all of you can rely on. But then I drop the ball and don't call/write/email and before I know it I can't remember the ages of your kids or if you even have kids. My particular scenario that I defend is my frequent visits to home. It comes from deep love though, so maybe that makes the frustration more tolerable. I completely adore my mom and sisters, they are truly my best friends and when I get around any of them, whether it be one of them or all of them I just can't get enough. I can't leave them alone and stick to them like glue until they finally run away screaming for some breathing room. I don't sleep much when I am home either. I wake up early (the no kids definition of early being 8:30 a.m.) just to be around them and when they are attempting to take a nap I stand over them coughing, sighing, heck whatever it takes to wake them up. At night, I don't let them go to sleep so I mesmerize them with my witty jokes and captivating stories and when they finally escape I move onto the cats. Every moment of every visiting day is spent right by their side. I miss them terribly and whatever time I get with any of them I use wisely. When I think of leaving for an hour to see a friend I begin to miss them all over again. Being one who refuses to take full responsibility for her co-dependency, I blame it on my childhood classmates, or shall I say my childhood classmates parents who allowed their closed minded beliefs to seep into the minds of their children, ultimately scarring an innocent party. My mom, thinking it was best for me, sent me to a Christian school. The school was fine as long as you were rich with super duper Christian parents who were, and here's the catch, married because we all know that divorce is the equivalent of an STD and we wouldn't want our kids catching STD's from the divorced kid now would we? See, all things were fine and dandy in the beginning. We were the fricken white version of the Huckstables. But all that ended in 1982 when my parents finally divorced (and thank God they did, but that I will save for another excuse making story). Although I was relieved about the divorce, my classmates parents shared a different opinion and in the end, I was branded with a scarlet D. When a little girl at a Christian school is branded with a scarlet D it is understood that she can no longer play with any of the other girls on the playground during recess. And in P.E. you definitely can't choose her to be on your team, you might catch a STD. Birthday parties? Forget that scarlet D girl, but be sure that come Monday though we will tell you all about it. So what does a girl with the scarlet D branded to her forehead do to survive? The only thing I knew, I fell into my safety net where I was protected by my 2 big sisters and a mom who loved me more than anything in the world. They were my only friends and I quickly learned that anyone outside of this safety net was not worth trusting. So we fast forward to 20 years later. Although I now wear these scarlet letters with pride (I've acquired a few more over the years), I have learned that I am a bad friend mainly because I never knew how to be a friend. Although I let people in, I don't let them stay in permanently. Want me to prove it? I don't talk to one person that I went to high school with. Most can say their oldest friend was from childhood, for me, I can count the fingers. Except for Derek. He was the one that got me, the only one outside of my safety net that learned that you gotta force me to stick around. He would be the one to constantly call and keep us together through those years of friendship. I even do this to my best friends. I can't tell you how many times my sister says to me "What, are your fingers broken" after she hasn't heard from me for a week. My first friend here in NY has already learned, it's not her, it's totally me. I am a jerk. Hence why I started this site. The funny thing is, my SIL and I are alike in this way, which means I should not be upset when we are not close because of it. But I, the queen of not keeping touch, have been hurt because I so badly want her to be a part of my life. Now ain't that hypercritical of me? I am terrible at keeping in touch. I am terrible at picking up the freakin phone and calling. But I do cherish every friend who puts up with me. Who comes back to read my site because you know how much of a jerk I am and that this is the best way to know if I am still alive. Hang in there with me, I promise to do better. I can't promise that I will see you when I visit but I promise that if you meet me for Starbucks I will go. I mean, it's coffee, right?
Today I am going to commit Blogging hijacking by stealing someone's cool post idea. Of course the fact that I am totally giving this personcredit must count as something. But folks, I'm desperate for material these days. Sure, I have plenty to write about: Miscarriages, Trying to get pregnant after a miscarriage and my personal favorite, how much I detest my work environment. But like I mentioned earlier, if I keep that up, you guys will get so bored and leave my site for hopes for greener pastures some place else. What's a girl to do? This morning I decided that I wouldn't write about the 3 hot (depressing) topics in my life right now but rather engage you in another session of Class Participation. I figured since I will be returning to the land of dial up for the next 3 days, and won't be online and unable to check my comments, I would begin a fiery Class Participation like my friend S.J. did (which actually is a great one to participate in during my absence this weekend) but run into hiding protecting myself from the aftermath. It seemed like a great idea, and you all know how much of an instigator I am (if you didn't know that, please review the "100 things you need to know about me before you become my friend" list). While pretending to be working I have been contemplating which topic I should open up for a fiery discussion and just came up with a good one when, I came across a post from one of my favorite sites and thought: "Well, that seems much nicer than what I was going to bore my readers with today". But instead of totally being a blog hijacker I merely will use her idea and twink it to fit my own. It's sorta like the electrical toothbrush. Sure Sonic came out with it first one but Oral B took their idea, redesigned it so that it was just a little different so noone gets sued. I don't want to get sued. Alright, enough with the disclaimer crap.
This months Class Participation's topic is "Your most embarrassing moment" (let's all thank Amalahagain for her wittiness).
Me first:
When I worked at Express ions ago, we would get a quarterly discount at their sister stores, one of which being Lane Bryant. Now, I had never been in this store, nor did I ever hear of it until this discount time. So I, being the shopper I am go into Lane Bryant and found the most adorable pair of pants. The smallest size I see them in is a 14, which really annoys me so I move onto the next item which also comes in only a 14. Finally after much frustration I ask the sales girl if the item comes in a size 10. She looks at me with absolute disgust as if I just asked her if she was really a female. But then, as if the blinders had been removed from my eyes, I noticed that I was getting this look from each and every employee and when I came to think about it, they had been gazing at me with hate the entire time. Then it dawned on me: Lane Bryant is a plus size store, I get it now....and with that I ran as fast as I could before they attacked me with their size 24 pants.
Then End.
Okay, it's your turn...I expect when I return to the land of internet on Sunday to see participation here people!
Today was my first day back at work. I decided in honor of this special occasion, I would wear a incredibly amazing outfit in hopes to ward off the bad spirits that inhibit the Agency. After the miscarriage when I was continually sad, my mom did for me what she knew best...brought me shopping with her Macy's credit card. "Anything, just pick out something that'll make you feel pretty again" she told me. Bad thing to say when YOU want to pay and Macy's is having a sale. So I picked out an amazing pair of winter white flare cords with an adorable big button on top. I decided to pair it up today with an even more adorable blue sweater with a stunning beaded flower doodad on the shoulder. Not only will this outfit ward off all bad Agency spirits, but it also didn't comprise of a turtleneck with a camisole underneath and tights which I wear as socks under my pants (the proper attire for the subfreezing Agency in which stupid directors refuse to turn up the heat during the Frozen Tundra coldness). Of course this outfit did signify that it was finally thawing off here which also meant that the snow had melted finally giving way to the first grass spotting in 3 months (and your sad about 65 degrees Mrs. SIL!). This for sure was going to be the most perfect day. Perfect outfit = Perfect Day. That would be so if I hadn't forgotten to figure into that formula the fact that I work for the most insane people on this planet. If there was a prize for stupidity, I would so win it hands down for insisting on torturing myself daily by not quitting and showing up day after day for such horrid people. It's an abusive relationship, I know this. To my face they aren't as petty as they are behind my back. Not like I figured their pettiness would take a vacation on account of my situation, but I truly figured the nit-picking would be about other issues. If I was Dave Letterman right now, the #1 on my top 10 list of things my directors said about me while I was gone would be:
"She's got one foot out the door"
Now, really, I can't argue that one because it is totally true. No, almost true, in reality I now have a foot and half out the door. Just give me another positive pregnancy pee stick and this other half will be completely gone. So folks here's my help wanted ad:
One Adoption Assistant with 2 years worth of experience. Slightly mouthy but a damn good worker. Salary must be enough to support ones eBay addiction for shoes and all things pretty. Only willing to work 32 hours per week to accommodate her need for traveling and sleeping. Planning to be pregnant and quit once wee one is here so job must be temporary.
It's hard to sit and write any type of update right now mainly because I really have nothing new to say. You know the old saying "Same song, different verse, little louder, little worse"? That is just me right now, I am like a broken record and we all know that people don't like listening to broken records, let alone reading about one! People say I am doing good. My director relayed to my co-worker that I sounded "wonderful" when she spoke to me the other night. Here's a little secret: When you talk to me I will sound "wonderful" because trust me, if I am sitting here crying hysterically I will not be answering the phone nor dialing your phone. It's just not like me. I blame it (because all learned behaviors are never my fault!) on my mom. She always raised me to never, ever air your dirty laundry. And to me dirty laundry can be defined as sounding not so wonderful on the phone. I don't even cry on the phone with my family. It's forbidden in my mind. The only person who I have ever cried on the phone to, cried hysterically and uncontrollably to is Derek, even before we were a couple. And now that we are on this subject of phone calls, I have learned a very valuable lesson through this whole situation. The lesson being how important it is to someone who is going through a tough experience to receive phone calls from those who love them. Knowing the above about me, I too was even a little shocked with this discovery. But each time a call came in, even if I didn't answer because I wasn't feeling wonderful and had the machine pick it up, it made me feel like I was not alone. And each awkward message that my friends would leave, awkward because they just didn't know what to say, made me feel like I had these extra arms under me holding me up at this time when I couldn't stand on my own. This lesson became so real to me this morning when a friend sent me an email with news of her families 3rd loss in 15 months. Typically I would not know what to say so I would say nothing except might had considered sending an email and left it at that. But today I couldn't dial her phone number fast enough. I had to let her know, that although I didn't know what to say that I loved her and her family and I was sorry. Of course, she has been a perfect example of calling admist discomfort. She heard about my dad's cancer, within 5 minutes of reading about it, she called...no hesitation. Now, please, for those of you who have kept up with my site and have not called me, this is not some passive aggressive way to say you should have called, so please don't take it like that. It's simply my realization how important it has become to me that people cared enough, admist their discomfort of not knowing what to say, that they would pick up the phone and take a chance at awkward silence. It has been a good lesson learned for me. For those out there that went through grief and received no support from me, I am terribly sorry. I know how it feels now. Lesson learned well.
Well folks, the verdict is in. The doctor said it would take until late Friday for the blood work to get back, but I guess he saw the tiny ounce of hope left in me and knew I needed to move on. There is not one bit of HcG left in my poor little body. Any mood swing I might have? Can't blame it on the hormones, darnnit. But, it's okay, the news stings just a little but I have no other choice than to move on. Obviously I am terrified about the "what if's" that are running through my mind: What if I try again and miscarry? What if I try for the third time with the assistance of hormones and miscarry? What if I can never sustain a pregnancy and my only hope of becoming a parent is through adoption? What if this dream of carrying a child will never come true? What if's will drive you crazy, even paralyzing if you dwell on them. So, all I can do is keep my mind busy with other things until we can get pregnant again and hope for better luck next time. Even though I am running into other women who have experienced the same thing and got pregnant with #2 immediately, I am still skeptical. I wish I was the eternal optimist. Unfortunately I am the "other shoe will always drop" kind of girl so I guess I will just have to tap into some of your optimism for now, dear precious internet!
I really can't say that this has been the hardest thing that I have had to deal with. I have had an buffet of emotions so far in my life. Trying to find similarities between these feelings and that of another time in my life would be like finding the similarities between Eminem and MWS. These emotions are like those that I have never felt before. They are new and painful and have been hard to find a place to put them. What I have wanted to do is to find a nice dark cocoon to hide in for the remaining portion of my life. I have even considered Samaritan Hospital, I've heard their psych floor is one of the nicest around! What began with grieving the loss of this pregnancy has quickly become annoying to me. It's not moving me forward, it's only keeping me stuck. And who is the best person to speak to when I find myself emotionally stuck? Well, the only person I know who has the ability to look at life through intellectual lenses rather than emotional ones: My dear dad. Although it's midnight in Belgium, where he is visiting his dear friend, he saw that I was online and checked in with me via webcam. He said just the words that I needed to hear (not always the one I want to hear though!). He has this way of speaking through the emotional me, which is super-duper sensitive, and connecting with the intellectual me. I ended the conversation with dad feeling at least a small bit in control again. And at the exact moment when I am sitting on my bed not knowing where to place these remaining emotions the phone rings with just the right person I needed to speak to. She gave me just the right amount of encouragement that I needed to pull myself out of this abyss of potential dismay. Now, being the eternal optimist as this friend is, she and I are still holding out hope for tomorrow. See, I have an 8:30 a.m. doctor's appointment tomorrow to confirm this possible miscarriage, but we're holding out that just maybe they'll find something. Now, don't worry, if they don't, I'm trying again. I won't give up on this dream that I have always had to become a mom. I am going to end here for tonight as this post could end up going on entirely to long. Either way though, you can be guaranteed some pretty darn good reading!
Just so everyone knows....after speaking with my Gynecologist and retaking a pregnancy test, I did in fact miscarry. Please, whatever you do, please don't even mention anything about any Diety whether it be God, Christ or Allah. My days of believing sunday school fairy tales are over. No, I am not saying I don't believe in God. I do. But, this God is very cruel. My father always said that the definition of insanity is basically doing the same thing over again but expecting a different result. My belief in this God being loving and kind is that of insanity. Everytime the shit hits the fan I come back for more. Well, there will be no coming back. This was the final straw.
I wish I could type something here that will be filled with good news and precious jewels of wisdom. But honestly dear internet, I've got nothing. No good news and or jewels for you today. Although my bleeding has gone from a steady flow to a trickle, I am still not hopeful that inbetween all the chaos that body has forced on me that this pregnancy survived. I am still here at my Mom's for all of you who are wondering. The doctor says I am not to fly until I can go 24 hours without bleeding. Between you and me, I'm throwing in the towel. I plan on leaving on Tuesday, bleeding or no bleeding. I feel like I am holding out hope for something that my body is clearly telling me is over. What's that saying? It's not over til the fat lady sings? Well, I am pretty sure she is singing, loud and clear but I refuse to remove these covers on my ears to even hear her. All pregnancy symptoms that I excitingly had on Thursday have diminished. Everything. Really, it's just cruel. It's cruel that in the midst of all the sadness and frustration that this family is dealing with we got hit with just a little bit more. Here we thought our loosing streak was over. Here we thought that just maybe, for once, the other shoe would not fall. But it did. It always freakin does. D seems like he is doing wonderfully. At least over the phone. See, this poor guy is still holding out hope. That's what you do when you haven't had disappointment and grief walk side by side with you your ENTIRE freakin life. You hold onto the fairy tale that in the end that Knight in Shining armor will always save everything. Well, in my life the Knight was always a frog with rusted armor who would just croak. Of course there is that little tiny voice, the only part of the optimism that I haven't been able to beat to death that says "Who knows, maybe just because you can't stop bleeding and your boobs went from tender to nothing against medical science you could still be pregnant" Poor little optimism. I then kindly remind him that in the end, he always loses and the worst case scenario always seems to happen. Each and every time. So, call my bluff here body. Prove to me for once in my life that hope is worth holding onto.
Just as quickly as the joy set in, complete fear has been replaced. I woke up this morning covered in blood. I just spent 3 hours in the emergency room only to be told "I'm Sorry Mrs. *******, it's a pretty high chance you're going to loose this pregnancy. Don't worry though, it's normal."
Hmmm...so I'm not suppossed to worry because it happens to 20-25% of all pregnancies. And, my doctor won't even worry until it happens 3 times in a row.
So, have I miscarried? Noone knows. The bad news is my blood levels are at an 8, that is very low. Home pregnancy test detect the HcG hormones at a 5-10 level. Mine could be low because they are dropping. Mine could also be low because I'm so early. I am supposed to just bleed, watch and retest my levels on Monday. They could come back higher than 8 or come back with no sign of the hormone which means I miscarried. The good news? Well, if you can use the term "good" for any of this, is that my cervic is long and closed. That means my symptoms are being classified as a threatened miscarriage. I've got a 50/50 chance here. Also, I have no cramping or pain which is associated with a miscarriage. Good news, huh?
I am sad. I am petrified, so much so, that while they did the exam I was shaking so badly that my mom had to hold down my legs so I wouldn't jump off the table. I had no control over them, no matter how much a I tried.
Hold me up dear internet. I feel like falling right now.
Yes, the picture is very blurry, but it's only fair...remember, we're in this together dear internet and the results weren't crystal clear for me either. Thank goodness I was im'ing during work today because if I wasn't I would have never chatted with my precious friend who, like me, received a faint line on her pee stick one year back. But unlike me, she stuck around long enough to notice. Me? I saw one line within 60 seconds on Monday and threw the sucker in the trash can. So out of curiousity this evening I went back to the test that was sitting nicely on the top of the wastebasket. And there lightly it sat with 2 lines! After a run out to CVS I purchased a 3 pack of EPT's and arrived home, full bladder and retested. There, slowly but surely the - turned to + and there it was. Yes dear internet....I am pregnant!! Holy Smokes, it worked!
Missed Period + Negative Test ------------------- One confused girl
I have no clue what's going on here...great time for my body to do something new. Today is day 29 of my cycle, typically I "begin" on day 24, yeah, lucky me huh? Oh dear internet, believe, we are in this together...I will not withhold any information from you. I promise once I know, you'll know!
It's really not a fun welcome home to get off the plane, after 5 days in snowless Florida, and walk into what seems like a blizzard. 10 inches of pure snow fun my friends. It was pretty exciting, not because I like snow or anything but because we definitely were not prepared. Really, D jinxed it. As we were parking the car before our flight, D mentioned how crappy it was that the parking garage was filled. He said that now we have to park in the regular lots and how much it would suck if it snowed while we were gone and then we would have to scrape the car. Yes, he said it then didn't even prepare us for his prediction. I had no coat. I had a single sweatshirt, capri sweats, and those trendy little heel'less sneakers. Not fun in snow. D at least had on full pants, full shoes and a fleece. Can you guess who stayed inside and didn't scrape the car off?
But, even with our snowy welcome back, I can say that the vacation really was successful. I know it was, regardless of 2 rainy days, because I found myself numerous times forgetting what day it was. Now that's when you know your relaxed. Although we did have 2 crappy days,our last day there proved that begging the sun gods does work and we spent the entire day on the boat. Now I could go on and on and give exact daily detail of trip, but that would just be boring, so I won't punish you. But that is why I haven't posted for a while. Really, I have nothing. Well, I do have more bouts of complaining about my stupid work, but I do want people to continue to read my site and out of fear of sounding like a cry baby, I'll just tell those who make the mistake of calling me instead!
Now, onto the question of the week: Are you pregnant? The answer to that is simple. I don't know! Really, my body just isn't cooperating with me. I promise I will post either way, but for now, just know "it" was due Friday, but sometimes for laughs "it" will decide not to come until Sundays. We are in limbo right now. But, just as a disclaimer, here are the things you are not allowed to say if I am not pregnant:
1. My sister's cousin's friend tried for 2 years before she got pregnant
Now, this response does me no good. I am not your sister's cousin's friend. The only person who can tell me how long it took them to get pregnant are people who are biologically related to me. And that person has already told me how long it took them to get pregnant. I have a friend who just told me she got pregnant each time, first try. See, that doesn't help. I am not trying to be harsh here folks, but I gotta be fair, if the people who get pregnant by just looking at sperm can't tell me, other's can't either.
2. You are trying too hard.
Really, that should be the first rule. However, I am too lazy to cut and paste. Really, I hate to be blunt, but we're all adults here, we know how pregnancy occurs so I'm not going to use some cutesy terms for "it" (okay, I just did, but that was for example only). The only approach I took to try to get pregnant was have sex. The only way possible to try less is to basically stop having sex. If you tell me stop trying so hard then I will never get pregnant. I didn't do the basal body temperatures. I didn't make any pretty charts. I didn't time when we would try. There was no pillow's under hips. I did check my cervix though. But I do that every month so I know when my period will start to avoid any surprises on pretty clothes. Other than that, I just did it. Every day of the cycle. And that is it.
3. You should try to chart your temps/raise your hips/make pretty charts
Now, I have heard this from the same people that have told me to not try so hard, that I should also do all the above. Hmmm...now folks, that is just confusing. It's like being a Liberal but yet you still voted for Bush. It doesn't make sense. Choose a side and stick with it. I realize that this rule does not apply to all. But I had to state it. You're really confusing me. Don't try too hard, but try just hard enough. I know when I ovulate because as stated above I know my Cervix very well, we are close. It tells me point blank when I ovulate. I don't need charts, I don't need to mark my temps...the Cervix tells all. The only thing I might consider, if not pregnant by the summer, is the hip thing. That's it.
On Friday when I spotted (did I mention that earlier?) I cried. I cried really hard for a really long time. I was so sad that D called my sister, he only does that in cases of dire emotional emergencies. It really was a big surprise that I responded that way. I did so good at not trying to hard and not dwelling on it that when I thought my period started I was crushed. I guess you can "act" like you're not trying to hard, you can think like you're not trying to hard, but deep down inside, well, that just can't be fooled. So, if my period does start today (which I think it will) I will want encouragement. I will want some "hang in there's" and "it will happen" or even "I remember how sad I felt". These will help greatly. But the 3 others stated above, well, that'll just make me feel worse!
