Good Tries

Crampy Cramperston

Today is Halloween and to celebrate, the devil himself has decided to do an Irish jig on my uterus...or maybe he's stomping on it with steel toed boots. Either way, the result is that I have been suffering with debilitating menstrual cramps all day.

On a lighter, less painful note, my progesterone levels have more than doubled since last month's test. The old me would have celebrated with a Reece's cup but the new me will settle for an Advil.

It's either this or an anxiety attack

I wrote this post, deleted it, wrote it again, not sure that I wanted to share it but i'ts my blog and I'll do what I want damn it.

I don't care for Halloween.
It's not due to any religious reason, it should be due to the abundance of candy, but it is due to the fact that it is my friends birthday. The one who committed suicide 2 years ago. It's not his birthday that really upsets me. It's the fact that he did it four days before, which makes the whole week a little difficult.

It's hard for me to remember that even though my life is very different than it was then, I still need to get upset about it. If I don't, it just courses through my body and recycles itself into feelings of anxiety and nervousness. (My own personal theory)
Fact is that even though I've moved on with my life, I still think of him everyday and miss him terribly. Understand that I do not pine for him, nor am I still in love with him. I just really miss his presence on this earth. I am somewhat certain that we wouldn't have ended up together in the long run if he hadn't passed away. But then he should have met someone else and created a life with them, taking advantage of his talents and strengths.

He should just be here, even if it was not with me.

FOR RENT - NO PETS, NO SMOKERS

I got my blood drawn again on Friday.
My gyno wants to see if my progesterone levels have gone up at all since last month. Eliminating sugar and all. She also orderd a beta which irritated me slighty. I assured her we've been giving baby making a rest but she insisted. "Better to be safe" she says.
It's bad enough to hear you're not pregnant when you're actually trying.

Exaggerated conversation with nurse -
Nurse - "Your hcg was negative."
Me - "Yeah, I know! We weren't even trying! It's cool."
Nurse - "Yes well just in case you held any sliver of hope that maybe possibly you could have been pregnant, just flush that down the toilet because you are DEFINITELY NOT. Just hang a "FOR RENT" sign on your uterus 'cause it is completely vacant! Ab-so-lute-ly not a thing there. Oh and your progesterone is at negative five. Good luck!"

What fun.

The cutest of the cute

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A tribute to Miss Rachel

When a grandparent dies, somehow it always seems less sad then any other death. You're grateful that they are no longer in any pain...they hopefully lived a full life...maybe their living situation was less than ideal. There always seems to be reasons why people seem less upset.
I usually agree.
Except in this case.
My husbands grandmother passed away last night in her sleep, and even though everything forementioned appiles in this case, there is more to it.
This lady was very special. The first time I met her she insisted that I stood in the light so that she could see me better. "You're pretty," she said, smiling.
I immediately liked her.
Since her move into the nursing home, our visits with her were always enjoyable and when she was feeling well, they were amusing. She told us stories about her kids and her rambunctious daughter, sometimes the same story more than once. One of the last stories I heard her tell was about her roommate at the home - Nellie.

"I heard Nellie talking the other day and she was saying 'I hate this place, I just want to die.' So I said Nellie you don't mean that cause if you leave here we'll all miss you sooo much. Her expression just changed so much," she paused while we silently wondered how she saw Nellie's face. Her eyesight had grown significantly worse so that she could only see shapes. As if hearing our thoughts she cocked her head and said, "I guess." The room erupted in laughter.

She made sure to share with me her recipe for roast beef basted in Coca-Cola. I didn't have the heart to tell her I don't eat meat. Truth be told, for her, I would have probably given it a try.

Thanks for the memories Miss Rachel.

Tears in my stuffing

Tonight I attended an awards ceremony of which my father in law (among others) was honored. During said ceremony I almost cried about four times.

Once: I got a glass of wine from the bar but after tasting it I realized it was way past its prime. So much so that it smelled like vinegar and had some sort of residue on the bottom. After coming to the conclusion that I would have to go exchange it for a fresh glass from a new bottle, I felt the tears coming but blinked them furiously away.

Twice: My husband comments that there is probably chicken stock in the stuffing that I was enjoying. I remark to him that he probably eats chicken stock a lot, to which he responds, "Not if I knew it was in there."
Making me feel like a horrible person and a shitty vegetarian.

Thrice: Someone accepted an award and gave a good speech.

Four times a cry baby: Someone accepted an award and gave a crappy speech.
I am a mess. I have P.M.S. and I am very disheartened because even though I've cut out all things good to eat I don't look like I've lost any weight. My palpitations have gone away for the most part, but I do still get the occasional minor anxiety attack.
I think that as long as I'm not exercising regularly, it will take forever for this weight to come off.

Something's gotta give, I'm on a deadline here.

Get ready eggs.....

A wierd thing happened today. I actually feel really excited about trying again in 3 months.
I feel more prepared already. I feel healthier, I have been proactive about my progesterone issues by getting tested a few more times, and overall I feel much less anxious. After eliminating sugar 2 weeks ago, I've had not one palpitation. I have taken up Yoga and meditation and I feel it's quelled my nervousness a lot.
Two and a half months to go......

Hooray for boobs!

I love it when the woman in front of me at Food Lion is loading up on formula and paying for it with WIC. I just want to ask her why she got pregnant if she's so broke and why on earth would she pay for something that's free and so conveniently located?

A patient grasshopper

A friend and I started Yoga class last night. It was fantastic and I pretty much want to be just like our instructor. After the class I felt really relaxed, vey different from the feelings I experience after attempting a Tai-Bo tape (failure, exhaustion, fat). I think I'll enjoy it.
My diet has continued on the righteous path and I do believe my pants fit a little better, however, since I refuse to turn this into a Pollyanna blog, some bitching must ensue.
I hate that I'm ovulating. It's such a waste. I feel so bad for my poor, dejected egg. I just want to give it a hug and say,"Hang in there little buddy, I'll be back up and running in a few months. Tell your friends!"
This whole process has been an epic waiting game. Waiting to ovulate, waiting to take the test, waiting for a positive to appear, waiting for test results and hopefully waiting for a baby to be born.
Patience grasshopper.

The luck of the German

There are a lot of reasons why I love my husband.
Here's just one.
Since our wedding, less than a year ago, I have gained roughly 30 pounds. Some of what's to blame is being comfortable and secure in my relationship. Also to blame is the fact that I recenly quit smoking cold turkey after about 10 years. Mostly it's just that I love eating food and I'm good at it.
Anyhow, since the gain, and the subsequent morphing of my body, my husband has yet to say one word about it. He has never commented on it, has never tsk tsked me when I want pizza for dinner yet again, has never looked at me differently, and is as interested as ever in me physically.
When I told him that I wanted to start a healthier eating regiment he was supportive and offered to change his eating habits as well.
I know it may be stupid to be thankful for something your husband should do anyway, but I don't care.
He's the best and I am one lucky girl.