Time Out: Hopped Up On Hormones.

I just have to take a time out from the California posts.
I'm hopped up on hormones, and I need to b*tch, or vent, but still remain appreciative, or just...whatever! Mmmkay?

Let me just start by saying, that I'm going to complain.
It doesn't mean that I don't want a baby.
It doesn't mean that I want to throw in the towel, or I'm not appreciative for what I already have...or that I don't think this is all worth it....It's just that I need to freaking complain! {...and I excel at it.}

This has been such a wonky cycle.
It started with false positives for ovulation.
How f*cking unfair is that?
You wake up, you're all excited to get a positive...


But you don't quite believe it. Go get another kit, and it's negative. WTF?



You wait, things get better, and BAM! Ovulation. Hot Damn! We're ready to roll.

And by roll, I mean throw rolls/wads/gobs/stacks of cash at this problem. And by problem, I mean 'fertility challenges'. What I've learned: if you google ballpark prices of any fertility services, add about a thousand dollars to that total, and that's about how much you can expect to pay. Of course, all fees for services due ASAP, are subject to change {read: increase on a moment's notice}, and are not covered by your insurance. Please and thank you and have a good day and kiss my ass, and kiss his ass and kiss your own ass.
I'm just sayin'....

Now, if I told Hubby one month ago, "I need three thousand dollars this month to try and get pregnant and capitalize on that 8% chance we were given," he would grumble and grunt only once about the cost. But as it stands, every 2 or 3 days to say, "today I wrote a check for $900+" and then, "today I wrote a check for $600+" etc., etc. It gives him the opportunity to grunt and grumble every 2-3 days.
Not to say that Hubby doesn't think all of this is worth it.
Not to say that Hubby doesn't realize that there are others out there who've spent waaaay more than this.
It's just that, this is our 3rd try. This every month is adding up! And nobody else's story is our story, so I don't really give a rats ass today about how much so-&-so spent to get pregnant.

In fact, today---I want to bitch about "so-&-so". Really, you knew someone who tried IUI 12 times before they got pregnant with some other technique? Really, you knew someone who RELAXED and they finally got pregnant? {Because yeah, relaxation causes pregnancy.... No, a nifty combination of C's apparently cause pregnancy: Climbing in the back of a Camaro with a Can of Coors and no Condoms!} Oh, so-&-so spent her whole 401K savings to get pregnant. So-&-so stopped trying and that's when SHE got pregnant. All of this helps me, how exactly???


TTC (Trying to Conceive), Texas Style...


And for another touch of humor:
How many infertility patients does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Screw in a lightbulb???? Hmmm . . . do you think it might help?

Moving on.
So---I'm hopped up on hormones.
I've got pills, patches, and well, other means of medication delivery that are just not pleasant at all.
My face is broken out like a 13 year old boy.
My boobs are swollen to the point of "This is FANTASTIC!" although, it originally got me all excited thinking that maybe I'm pregnant, but then I read that it's likely just a side effect of all the hormones.
The nausea...Lord help me. The fun part of this: it lasts for about 24 hours after I put on my new patches, and then it's followed by 2 days of eat-everything-in-sight. Awesome.
The prenatal vitamins: They are blue. And huge.



Don't see the irony in all of this?
I don't' eat blue things.
Haven't in YEARS.
These pills, I take. That in itself is a testament to how badly I want a baby. The iron in the pills has not been my friend, so occasionally I switch the big blue pill out for a women's multi-vitamin to give my tummy a break for 24-48 hours. ..not because I don't' want a baby, or I want a baby with neural tube defects---but rather, because I don't want my intestines to explode. It's a life-saving thing, really. Self-preservation; don't call me selfish.

And moody?
Who me?
Never.
{self-disclosure: I'm moody on a good day. You inject hormones into this situation, and I'm bat-shit-crazy.}
This morning, I was bawling in the school drop off line. Why? Because there is bad weather here in Texas, and Gage referenced the possibility of a tornado happening while he was at school. I was totally fine in dialogue about this until we were talking about his actions during a tornado drill, and I told him that while crouched down under his desk/table (you know, like we all had to do way back when), I told him that he'd have to be really quiet. He asked why. I proceeded to TRY to explain that Mrs.P (his Kindergarten teacher) would be in charge of his safety and the safety of the other children, and he'd need to be very quiet to hear if she were to give instruction or try to tell the children anything.
In a flash, I was bawling.
In a flash, my brain thought:
"Mrs. P----to be in charge of MY child's safety. How could she possibly protect MY child in a tornado when she had so many other students to protect as well? Doesn't she know how precious MY child is? Is she up for such a challenge? What am I thinking? Of course she is. She is trained, educated, and so nice? WTF? Trained & educated? How's her education going to protect my child from tornadic activity!? It won't! Oh, Lord forgive me, for thinking that Mrs.P wouldn't adequately protect my child, and Lord forgive me for thinking that MY child is any more precious than the other children. It's just that---to me he is. Lord, you can think that they are all equally precious; I'm going to just admit now that I'm biased, and hope that you forgive me for that."
And then it was Gage's turn to get out, in the rain, and I was still bawling, "Bye, sweetie. Have a good day. I love you."

Awesome.
The drop off lady (who opens the doors for the kindergartners) just looked at me with that "Are you okay?" quizzical look. There I was: a big breasted, zit-faced, bawling mess.

And now, I'm fine.
I'm soooo blaming the hormones.
The underlying neuroses are just made worse by these damn hormones.

Okay.
I think I'm done complaining now.
I'm ready to move on.

This will all be worth it in the end.
This will all be worth it in the end.
This will all be worth it in the end.

and....

It could be so much worse.
It could be so much worse.
You get where I'm going with this...