Whip-Smart

Sorry I have fallen behind on my posting lately--I'm terrible, I know--but life has been so busy! 

Not much to report on the TTC route since the past week was that in-between week of waiting for AF to take off and mull over possible adjustments to our game-plan before my fertile window for this cycle. Easter weekend also meant two business days were lost too, so my clinic still hasn't called regarding my ultrasound. And the technician who did the ultrasound said that everything looked normal to him (during the process), but they have a specialist who looks at the images and writes a written report that gets forwarded to my doctor, so he couldn't really tell me anything. And, he had to send me out into the lobby with water twice because my bladder was only a quarter full when I arrived (early, thank goodness) in spite of drinking the recommended amount of water an hour beforehand. So, when in doubt, drink an extra glass of water before you leave the house if you ever have to do an ultrasound!

In the meantime I called and scheduled an appointment for G to drop off his specimen for his SA, which he did on Tuesday. He was super cranky about it, and if there's a next time I suppose we better make sure we schedule for a day where he's got nothing work-related to do or he'll be pretty upset with me for a few days. He has also been freaking out because very little came out so there was practically nothing in the cup, and this has added to his anxiety about there being something wrong with him. He has made a lot of comments about adoption in the last few days...sigh. 

To stay grounded I've thrown myself into my roller derby training. On Thursday I went up island to spend the afternoon with my dear friend MJ and her baby Wes, who utterly amazed me with how he's so focused on trying to walk and talk--he's still a baby but I can see him striving so hard to become his own person and how he wants to start gaining his independence a bit! I am completely enamored with him when MJ and I visit, and I will shoot down any negative comment about gingers made in my presence because of this (just a heads-up)! Anyhow, we went to Bikram yoga for an hour and a half and, even though I was super sore from derby practice the night before and it has been about a year since I last went to a Hatha yoga class (which I find already pretty easy since I started with Iyengar when I first began my practice 4.5 years ago, and a bit of Moksha), I'm super proud of myself! I had to make a few modifications on a couple of poses and I couldn't get as deep a stretch as MJ (who has been going once a week and also working super hard to get back to Pre-baby weight since January), but the instructor commented afterwards about how I've retained my awareness of posture and alignment for each position. All those details like "shoulders back and down" and "knee over ankle" or "square the hips" from Iyengar were still built into my body-awareness and made it easy to correct myself when I needed too. Bikram was intense but awesome, and I felt so great afterwards! I really need more yoga in my life!!! Sure, it doesn't really make a difference to losing weight, but it will keep me well stretched, and benefit my balance for derby. 

I also have done really short light jogs last night and this morning with Zoe-dog, which isn't much of a work-out, but we really liked that. It also means she doesn't stop every two feet to sniff obsessively, which bugs me sometimes when we're on a walk.

I dreamt about painting last night too. It was really nice, especially since I haven't had many opportunities to be creative within my busy schedule. 

Anyway, my fertile window should start tomorrow! Wish us luck!

One More Step

Here we are at CD1 again. This will be our twelfth month of TTC, and knowing that we're so close to that one-year mark comes along with some mixed emotions, obviously. My intuition for the last week has been telling me that this wasn't it this month, and my BBT has been lower than usual ever since about 3DPO. But I had a normal 28 day cycle with decent EWCM during my fertile window, and so I feel like this month wasn't all-bad, even if it didn't yield a BFP. I did do a heck of a lot of crying yesterday when I woke up with cramps. 

G was so hopeful. He asked me almost daily for the last 5 days if/when I was going to test. Last night he seemed borderline baffled when I told him I was spotting, and asked how it could be that I hadn't gotten pregnant this month when we'd BD'd during all the best days, used Pre-Seed, and I'd been so diligent about taking my vitamins and not drinking coffee all month. He was the one reminding me that it was over for this cycle until AF arrived. However, he's thinking that we maybe need to look into going to a few counselling sessions to better deal with TTC.

I have my ultrasound appointment in a little under two hours. Right now I'm at my parents' house while G is busy with office work and faculty meetings on campus, with a heating pad on me and lots of Midol. My cramps are so bad today that I feel like an invalid so the idea of drinking three glasses of water and keep my bladder full for any length of time today isn't very appealing. Not to mention the granny-panties and tampons. My mom keeps asking me if I'm excited. No, maybe a tiny bit, only in that we'll be one step closer to finding out if there's something else we need to be doing. Anything that brings us closer to bringing home future-baby is welcomed. 

Yesterday I brought out the deck of Sacred Geometry cards my grandma gave us for Christmas, meditated on TTC and pulled two cards: Transition and Intuition. Is this just a window of time where we are still preparing for pregnancy, still learning things that may have been holding us back, before we finally have our baby on board?

At least G has agreed to take me to my appointment this afternoon, and will be there to see everything that the ultrasound technician may point out to us. And maybe finally he'll get his SA done, and get over being embarrassed/grossed-out by providing his sample. 

One step closer. 

"But I want to be a paperback writer"

I don't have much time to write tonight, I spent way too long trying to figure out why I couldn't log into gmail and just realised that I was using the wrong email username all along....it's been a long day, just saying.

I've been having a frustrating time at work lately. We've been booked up about a week in advance, often under-staffed, and because everyone's in a hurry it seems like the notes attached to files aren't being read and we're often over-booked or booked incorrectly. And, of course, this means that the scrambling-to-get-everything-done state we're already in gets all the more frustrating. But on top of all of this, it's also come to my attention that my coworker/friend-turned-salon-manager has been over-stepping my boundaries and meddling behind my back. I'd like to think that she's doing what she's been doing because she's sincerely trying to be helpful or supportive, but when I discovered via our groomer-trainee that she had called our Ops Manager last week and asked if I could leave work 15 minutes early for "family issues" without even talking to me about it, I was pretty embarrassed! Apparently because she knew I was mid-cycle she thought I should go home early and hop in the sack with G? This happened a little over a week ago, and beyond thinking it was weird when she had come skipping into the back where I was busy blow-drying the dog I was working on to announce that I could leave 15 minutes early, I didn't find out the details until just a couple of days ago. The difference between getting home at 7:15PM and 7:30PM that day didn't really make a difference to my personal-life, but having our Ops Manager think that some "issue" at home was affecting my professional-life was never something I would have wanted! Yours-truly is the employee that has only called in sick to work once during my two years with the company!

I've had other issues with our salon manager when it comes to her meddling behind my back. A couple of months ago she casually told me that she had been talking to our Ops Manager about how they needed to find my "replacement" asap, to which my Ops Manager asked if I was pregnant, and she responded "no, but every month that passes she's closer to going on mat leave!" I had to really hold myself back and calmly remind her that they'll have nine months to find my "replacement" once I'm actually pregnant, but currently it's a bit premature. Never mind we'd been TTC for 9 cycles at that point, and would have been going on mat leave then if we'd been so lucky to have gotten pregnant so easily.

For all the occasions that I've politely tried to let her know that the things that she's been saying to myself and others are actually hindering me and upsetting me, not helping me at all, it's all seemed to go in one ear and right out the other. I don't know what to do about it really. Do I over-step her and talk to our Ops Manager about what's been going on? Do I call our company's HR? All I know is that I can't continue on like this. I'm getting so frustrated and angry that I was ready to quit on the spot on Tuesday.

The woman whose dogs I groom every couple of weeks, on my day off, says her daughter is interested in a business partnership where she'd do dog-walking and I'd groom. I've agreed to discuss this possibility, but I'm not sure what I'll end up doing. I don't feel like I'm "done" with grooming, though I do feel like I want to leave my current company by September, but I also don't feel like it's my true career. Do I really want to start a business that I'm not sure I'll want to have in five years, or have as a career? Grooming is a trade, a fairly creative one, but it's not what I want to do forever.

I want to be writing. I want to be at my desk, working. We're lucky because G's income is roughly three times what I make, we don't live a very luxurious or materialistic lifestyle, we generally have maybe a couple hundred dollars worth of credit card debt, and even though our mortgage payments are on the high side we only have about 13 years left before that's paid off. I don't NEED to work, financially-speaking, I just feel like I need to contribute to our household bills and have my own money for anything I might need to buy, even if it's just for gas in the truck or the occasional chai latte with a friend. Writing doesn't pay bills or put gas in the truck right now, but I'd be so much happier.

Seriously, what should I do?

A Letter to our Someday-Baby

Dear Someday-Baby,

I hope you have your dad's nose and dark hair. I hope you and Zoe-dog have so many summer days where you both can run on grass (parks, fields, your grandparents' backyards, literally everywhere, so long as you're both safely away from streets and being supervised) and play fetch with a Frisbee or a ball. I hope you giggle and laugh a lot, and that my cousin Pedia will share her toys with you when she comes to visit. I hope your crib mattress is soft and your knit blanket is warm and cosy. I hope you like to colour and try all kinds of new food. I hope every summer we can all go on a vacation together, even if it's just a little camping trip somewhere on the island. I hope you like all the books we'll read together and stories we'll make up. I hope you'll be excited to go to school when you get a little older.

Your dad and I have been talking about re-painting the loft this summer, and I think a light yellow would be nice. I want it to be a cosy space when it becomes your room, but I also want it to feel like it's full of sunshine even on rainy days. We're going to have to do a lot of spring cleaning and organising, but we want to do all of this to make it your room. We're making space in our lives for you, and the more we do so the more sure we're ready for you.

I want you know that your whole family is ready and waiting for you. Your great-granny Joan even has a wooden highchair stored away for when you arrive, and your great-grandma June has been sending me lots of positive energy in hopes you'll choose a month soon to incarnate. Great-grandpa wants to teach you how to skate, also. Your grandmothers are both excited about the possibility of you, and your granddad has been daydreaming about you for quite a long time now. You have lots of uncles and aunts, lots of cousins waiting here and some future-cousins that will hopefully come after you. When you get here you'll be your dad's dream-come-true, and I already know he's going to spoil you. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you grow up to be happy and healthy, and I know you're going to become a really good person. I want the best for you, and I want you to always feel loved.

I know you've been hesitating to join us, but I want you to know it's okay and that not for one minute will any of us regret your arrival. We're ready in every way. Nothing about your creation will be "accidental", we've chosen you and will adore you no matter what form you take--you have the freedom to become whatever person you're meant to be, I promise, we'll only do our best to make sure we guide you in a direction without unnecessary discomforts or risks. You are my sole/soul priority.

We love you, Someday-Baby,

Your One-day-Mom

Forgiveness Rock

I haven't had a chance to post anything for almost a month--I am SO sorry!!!--and so I'm a little back-logged when it comes to updating what's been going on. Buckle in, this is likely to be a long post!

Currently I'm CD11, just finished taking Zo for a walk with G, eating spearmint scotch mints, drinking earl grey tea (today is also the one month mark of giving up coffee!), and listening to Broken Social Scene's Forgiveness Rock Record (slightly too loud, I might add) while G is busy marking his printmaking classes' assignments. We were hoping to have a window replaced, one with a broken seal, so that my parents could install the second gorgeous thistle stained glass window, but it's raining so it will be postponed until maybe tomorrow. But best of all, that funk I was in last cycle has subsided for the time being. I am hopeful! I am almost deliriously hopeful that that BFP is going to happen in the next few months!

Let me explain myself...

We drove up to Princeton, BC to see my grandparents and stay with them for about 4 days at their ranch. This was super important to me because they're hoping to sell all 200 or so acres and (hopefully) move to a smaller, more recluse island somewhere in the gulf, and G had never been there before. They had just recently sold off their cattle and are down to just three horses, a cat, and their little (well, she's actually only 3lbs lighter than Zo, but only because she doesn't have a waistline) poodle mix--very strange to not have the bigger farm dogs and the little newborn calves hanging around the barn! And very strange not to see Lippy and Tara, their two horses that they'd had since I was a toddler that have passed away of old-age in the last few years! Nonetheless, it was wonderful to breathe in that crisp mountain air and be surrounded by those rolling hills and the hayfield that spreads out just below the house and runs along the creek. Seeing my grandparents was so great that I honestly didn't want to leave. I think it was super important for us to be able to disconnect from our jobs and phones and unwind for a few days, and I wish we could have more of that peaceful space within our everyday lives a little more often.

The second afternoon we were there, G and my grandfather went downstairs and watched the hockey game on the projector screen, and my grandma and I went off to the now-hot tub-less hot tub room so that my grandma could do a bit of reiki on me. I hopped up on the massage table and as my grandma straightened out my legs and set me back into alignment she proceeded to explain that the reason why there was 5 years between when my uncle was born and when she got pregnant with my mom was because she had a tipped uterus. She'd moved and her new doctor had noticed and corrected her uterus; that was September of 1966 and she got pregnant in December, just four months later! She said she has had a feeling that I've inherited a tipped uterus too, and that she has been able to use reflexology to correct it for a few other female clients of hers over the years. She checked me (via reflexology, not like a pap--don't worry!) and concluded her suspicions were correct, and then she went about trying to set it back into place. As she worked she told me that the first time she'd done this it was for a hairdresser named Heather that had come to her appointment over 15 years ago in tears because she'd been TTC for years without success. She corrected it and 6 weeks later Heather was pregnant! A couple years later, when Heather was ready to start TTC again she went back in and my grandma repeated the correction, and even though it took a little bit longer she did get pregnant again with her second child. She said she predicted that it'll take a few months for me, and that she'd have to check to make sure it had set in place before G and I left in a couple days.

When she was done she went to the head of the table to begin doing her cranial-sacral work on me, and only maybe 10 minutes later we heard a vehicle come racing up the long driveway and park. My grandma got up to see how it was, and this is totally zany, but it was Heather the hairdresser! Heather apologised for not calling first, but she'd had so much shoulder pain that she'd come straight from her last appointment. I've known Heather for years and so we said hi and chatted for a little while as I got off of the table and she got up there in my place. My grandma mentioned that I was having a hard time getting pregnant and Heather immediately asked "did you do that thing?" and when my Grandma said she had Heather said "Oh good!" and settled herself. I worked on Heather's feet and just focused on keeping a steady stream of energy flowing through her, while my grandma focused on her back and shoulders. (Which was very good for me, since I haven't really done reiki at all over the last 5 years since I stopped going up to Princeton for work in the summers.)

My grandma also emailed her wonderful psychic friend Catherine-Sue about me, and Catherine-Sue pointed out that there is an Ace of Hearts as my Long Range Card for this year, which I had overlooked as simply being "the desire for a child" not a pregnancy sign for myself, and so I do have a chance of conceiving between now and my birthday in July, after all. Excellent!! She said to mediate on the Three of Hearts in Saturn and deal with this feeling of indecision/"feeling of pulled in multiple directions", and to NOT use "being too busy" as an excuse (which I am very guilty of). She said to prepare and to make getting pregnant my soul purpose for this year, to let the little soul of our future baby know we're ready for her/him to incarnate.

Finally, five minutes before we were about to leave a few days later, I got an email back from Psychic Mary Akinson with the reading I'd ordered three weeks earlier. This was her email to me:

Dearest Meghan,

Thank you for allowing me to read for you I'm most grateful. If any part of your reading is unclear please let me know. I will now look over your pregnancy path with my spirit guide Ashton to help.

I can see a pregnancy anytime within 10 weeks

I can see a healthy baby girl born at 40 weeks of your pregnancy.

I do feel vaginal delivery lasting under 7 hours with 11 minutes of pushing

Birth- Tuesday 8:12AM

Weight 6lbs 11oz

I can see her first word is PINK

-------------------

I can see conception with a healthy baby son when your daughter is above 3 years old, providing you try again...

If any of your reading is unclear please let me know, and of course let me know how you get on.

Kindest Regards, May your path be blessed

Mary Akinson


I was so excited and relieved that I passed my phone to my grandma and told her to read the email on the screen. She gave a surprised little "oh ho!" and laughed, then said "that would be about right."

And my uterus had been still in place when my lovely grandma checked it before G and I left, also.

So that means two and and half cycles. Well, it's two now that I'm coming up to O this week. I've regained the emotional strength and determination to go out and buy more PreSeed (this time with the applicators) and continue on my coffee-free path. I haven't told many people but I did tell my mom about all this, and she was very supportive and excited for me. I also told my close childhood friend Mel the other day when we met up for tea and a 5km walk (which I was supposed to skate, but Wes was with her in his stroller and the weather was a bit cruddy). Mel was excited too, and told me that when she was still in Prince George a couple years ago she'd gone to a psychic who'd predicted she'd get pregnant with a little blue-eyed strawberry-blond son, who was extremely eager to be born--and now here he is, of course! She also posited the possibility of us combining her photography and my artwork for the illustrations in a children's book, but we'll see how that pans out.

So I have been busy with getting my teeth cleaned, getting my annual pap done and out of the way with Dr. C-G, and rollerskating. Once I finished up my pap I bought G and I some flowers for the bay window in our kitchen and made a special little stop at the knitting shop down the hill from our house...I bought three balls of yarn in a soft yellow-teal-lilac, which I will knit into our future-baby's blanket. I also took my soap kettle, wrapping paper, and other clutter out of the loft and stored it all away in the studio and the attic space above. I am doing my best to sort of call out to the little spirit of future-baby to say "we're so ready for you, we're making space in our lives for you, doing all that we can to prepare for your arrival, and this loft is going to be your room. You're only a twinkle in our eyes but we love you so much already and we're so excited to share everything we have with you when you get here."

Oh, I'm getting all emotional just writing this!

Sure, I'm nervous that maybe this hopefulness is only going to lead to a starker disappointment, but allowing myself to daydream a little has been so nice. I'm going to be patient with myself, and I've been reminding myself that if it takes a few months that that's okay--having a baby born about this time next year would be very nice! The flowers are starting to bloom, the weather is getting a bit warmer, and G is 4 weeks away from the end of his second semester of classes.

This time next year would be the perfect time to have our baby.

Sea Change

I'm in the TWW but I already know I'm out for this month.

Last week we BD'd just for fun (my idea) even though we were both tired. I almost immediately fell asleep afterwards and didn't get up to pee until the alarm clock went off the next morning...how could I be so stupid?! I woke up at about 3:45 on Saturday morning with a UTI--Happy Valentine's Day!!! It was bad enough that I considered pulling over during the drive to work and calling in sick because I felt like I couldn't leave the bathroom for more than 15 minutes. I even told our really socially-fumbling male Store Manager that I had a UTI and was intending to drink as much water as possible and get through my first appointment, but that I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make it through the day. Awkward.

So by about 2pm that afternoon, after about 3 water bottles and countless trips to the bathroom, I started feel like everything was settling down. I finished up work, went home, and was met with a yummy dinner, roses and a very good bottle of wine from G. I knew it was a bad idea, it's just that I hadn't had a glass of wine in so long and it was Valentine's Day, so I poured myself a small glass to have with dinner. Yeah, it wasn't too bad until half way through watching Anna Karenina on Netflix, at which point it spiralled into yet another whirlwind of agony. I was up until almost 3AM (yay 24 hour day!) before managing to fall asleep, then back up again at 7AM so that we could get ready to go to G's niece's birthday party down island. Not a good Valentine's Day, and certainly not romantic.

Yesterday and today have been better, finally, but I've completely cut coffee, even decaf, for the the last five days. I had the tiniest little bit of chai yesterday and that was okay, but it's better to limit sugar and stick with water, cranberry juice and herbal tea.

So we literally missed my entire fertile window this cycle. I O'd night-before-last/yesterday morning and we couldn't do anything about it. It's not recommended to BD with a UTI until at least two weeks of being symptom-free, and G didn't want me to continue to be so uncomfortable so we didn't risk it. We even discussed trying at-home AI with a needle-less syringe as a possibility, so that we'd maybe still have a chance this month, but Monday night I was still feeling so bothersome that I didn't stop to pick one up on the way home from work because I couldn't stand the thought of anything foreign being in me, even if it was for a really good cause.

G was actually really willing to give it a try. He turned down BDing the usual way last night once he found out that I still hadn't picked up a needle-less syringe. I know he was really disappointed but he still put my well-being first. I suppose in the future, if a similar situation occurs, we can default back to this at-home plan B.

The one good thing about this UTI: I have raced through Ali Smith's most recent novel How to be Both while passing all that time in the bathroom. I think I read about 80 pages Valentine's Day night, which I haven't done since the days of post-secondary reading-lists. It's written in a way that makes for really good straight-through reading though since this novel is written in two inter-changeable sections with almost no chapter breaks in either section. Her intention was to attempt to have narratives on different time lines running simultaneously, not so much interwoven, as though it were a symphony. She was especially influenced by fresco/secco and she has tried to create these layers in the novel, and I'd say she has it pushed to the limits, to a point where it works without sacrificing the quality of her storytelling. It's pretty amazing--I have been contemplating how she's done it so successfully and essentially nerding-out all morning.

Ali Smith is one of my top 5 favourite authors, and How to be Both is maybe the 5th book of hers I've added to my own personal collections. I used to say Jeanette Winterson was better, and she's up there on my list/collection too, but I think I've come to the conclusion that Ali Smith is much more versitile, perhaps more technical. Both have published work in the realm of literary criticism, but Ali Smith manage to turn it into a novel (another amazing book of hers: Artful) and that was mind-blowing for me. If I ever manage to write with as much skill and intellectual prowess as Ali Smith I was die an extremely self-satisfied woman.

I'm going to be gracious and give you all the link for the CBC Radio podcast of the interview Ali Smith did for Writers and Company. Rather than explain her work and these two novels, I'll let the author tell you about it herself:
http://www.cbc.ca/player/Radio/Writers+and+Company/ID/2540945305/

On that note, I will take my leave of you all. I've got to take Zoe-dog for a walk and hopefully leap back into doing either some fiction or non-fiction writing while I'm still feeling all bubbly with inspiration.

"Because you want your world a certain way"

My appointment to meet my new GP is in about two hours and I'm trying to keep myself feeling level-headed. I don't know what to expect but I'm assuming we'll at least glance at the specifics of those lab results, and discuss moving on to new tests and examinations of a gynaecological nature. G isn't coming with me this time but I know he wants me to discuss our concerns that maybe he isn't "shooting" with enough force to get his swimmers to my cervix and beyond.

I wish G hadn't cancelled his appointment a couple of weeks ago with his GP because I think that's what his doctor wanted to touch-base with him on during that visit.

I have been freaking out all this week about the possibility that we may either never have children, or might only be able to with a lot of medical help. G has said that he doesn't want us to go through IVF. On one hand I'm glad he doesn't think it's fair or pleasant that I go through the process required, but on the other hand I wish he'd be a bit more flexible--if that's what we have to do, if that's our only chance, shouldn't we be open to it?

I'm terrified that if it does really take years for us to conceive he might close down completely to having a baby under the pretence of being "too old". I have a little bit of time left to do this, in fact I think I'm just slightly past the prime age overall to have a baby (taking into consideration education, personal achievements, travel, financial and relationship status-wise, and amassed life-experience), but G is constantly concerned with fighting against the passing of time these days. Time passes a lot faster for him, he says. I get that, but I don't think it's an excuse to limit your pursuit of a fully-lived life.

On a much sunnier note, derby practise last night was great! Once again, roller derby has proved itself to be the best therapy I can get. Another freshy achievement: the start of baby-sized cross-overs and T-stops! Next time I have Kitty Glitter count how many laps around the track I can do in 5 minutes, it's going to be quite a bit closer to the 27 goal-point than ever before. By doing cross-overs rather than coasting sticky-wheels style I can maintain, and even pick up more speed, and that's huge. It means I can keep up better with the pack when we're going at a faster-than-moderate pace, and it gives me the potential to dart around blockers and stuff if I do jam occasionally. The T-stops are going to take me a little bit longer than cross-overs still because leaning on my edge wheels feels so unnatural and I'm totally in that phase of over-thinking it every time. I'm pushing myself, and it feels good--even my knees were sweaty by the time I was done the two hours and pealing my gear off.

Also, it looks like on March 7th we'll be doing another team photo shoot (I missed last Saturday's because of work and the film festival). This morning I dug through my dresser drawers and basically figured out two outfits for the shoot; one is a short black dress I bought in NYC when I was 20, and the other is a white and black striped dress that would totally work perfectly if I do get into reffing matches as part of the Nerd Herd. While I was sort of playing dress-up I was rocking out to the Pixies, and I totally felt like deep-down I've still "got it". I'm out of shape still, and that sucks, but in fishnets, a short dress, and my faux-leather jacket I've got legs for days--and that's always been my "problem area": thunder thighs! I actually felt hot for the first time in ages, and with my ruffled-up rocked-out long bob and bangs I looked sort of like I was in my early-to-mid 20s again. If I wear the gold tie with "fuck work" printed all over the bottom, it'll match perfectly with the mustard coloured cover font of a book of local ghost stories if I want to pull in a prop.

If my ex's could see me in my derby-best they'll all be kicking themselves....sigh. At least I think G still feels like a lucky guy, right? TTC is so not sexy and fun at this point.

Family Day

Here is rainy BC today it was Family Day--thank you, Christy Clark.

You know how crummy it is when you're single on Valentine's Day? That's how today felt for me. The positive side of the stat-holiday fence was that the salon closed an hour earlier than usual, meaning that I went in and then finished my work-day an hour earlier than my usual Mondays, and I made time-and-a-half alongside my commissions (which were decent, not amazing, but decent). However, I really felt a bit all-over-the-map emotionally: tired, determined, hangry, cynical, sugar-buzzed elated, then upset enough that I really just felt like crawling into bed and crying--all basically in that order. Now that I'm in on the edge of crying-blob-mode I'm really feeling that emptiness and the possibility that this might be what Family Day feels like for more than just this year and/or the next.

My single-mom co-worker doesn't get it. I shouldn't really expect her to, not because she is or isn't an empathetic/compassionate person but because she's really young, accidentally got pregnant in high school ("accidental pregnancy" completely baffles me these days, I'm sorry), is dating an equally young guy, and infertility isn't something she's ever had to consider. Never has she had to wonder "what if I can't have children?" She has a wonderful, kindhearted, curious, bright, healthy boy that she's able to kiss goodnight. So when she announced, while we were quietly grooming our dogs, that she "just want[ed] to be home with her boys on Family Day, actually being a family" I made a comment about how she was lucky to at least have a family on Family Day.

"That's not true, you have G and Zoe-dog," she said.

"It's not the same," was all I could say. I don't remember if she made an additional optimistic comment.

That's my point though: even though I love G and Zoe-dog very much, I don't think the two of us and our dog equate to being "a family" in the eyes of most people. G and I are a couple with a dog, and currently Family Day is not a stat holiday for us. I can't tell you how much I'm hoping and praying and wishing that this is only temporarily true, but with every passing cycle of TTC the fear that maybe this is it for us gets a little bit bigger, just a little bit louder and a little less foggy.

Underneath all the optimism  there's this growing anxiety, and on days like today it's pretty terrifying.

Cinematic Daydreams

I'm pretty tired out today, to be honest. Yesterday was a really busy day, I stayed up way too late, got up at my usual time this morning, and after walking Zoe-dog G and I spent about four hours reading through and marking his class's latest curatorial project assignment. We just finished doing a grocery shop and as soon as we were in the door I had to get a roast in the oven for our dinner later on. I literally feel like I could fall asleep in minutes if I were to try and read a book in bed right now, and it's only barely 5pm.

After work I had to hurry to get gussied-up in the bathroom and then make it to our annual local film festival. I made it there about 10 minutes late and found the seat at the back centre row G had saved for me, all while our close friend J was in the midst of giving his final introductory speech as the festival director. J has been the festival director for the last 10 years and this was his last year before stepping down, so next year he'll just be offering mentorship to the new conglomerate of organisers. I was actually the Submissions Coordinator for the festival from winter 2010 until March of last year, at which point I decided to step down because I knew I just wasn't going to have the same amount of time for volunteer work. It felt so strange to be part of the audience again, and to not have seen all the films about five times beforehand. I felt really disconnected, whereas I used to always have formed an emotional attachment to some of the films, and a connection with the different filmmakers--after being having sent about a dozen or more emails back and forth over the span of about 4 months you start to bond a little bit.  Plus there are a handful of local filmmakers who are very diligent about submitting something every year and you get to know them well enough that when you bump into them in a Starbucks you end up chatting for a decent 10 minutes about if/what they're working on lately. I'm still on a first-name basis with these special few, even though I hadn't been their liaison-person this year, but the vibe was obviously a little different. As much as I liked having that extra festival-free time this fall/winter, I didn't realise I'd missed my old post until about a quarter of the way through the films. I just felt old and tired, not glamorous and professional.

My short attendance at the after-party was extended until about 1:30AM, which was so much later than I'd planned. G left as soon as the films were over (he was in a bit of a funk), before the awards portion of the festival, and I was so hungry that I ordered two sushi rolls and a ginger ale for myself. G was in bed by the time I got home, and he's still a little bit cranky with me for being out so late. Actually, he's been accusing me of staying out late so that I could flirt with other men (so far from reality--I wasn't even remotely as social as I generally am at the after-party because I was so exhausted). It was good to visit with our friends for a little while, that's all.

Being over-tired today has made me feel a bit more emotional that usual. I'm not feeling very "up," I'm sorry.

One of my two Internet Angels, Lkal, went in for her second IUI today. I'm hopeful for her, of course, even though she was disappointed because there was only one follicle and her hubby's count was 2 million less than last time. She's thinking that maybe upping her Clomid dosage next month (if she doesn't get her BFP this month) might be a good idea. I asked her how she feels about the possibility of IVF in the future if IUI doesn't take, because when I think about IVF lately I get super antsy and emotional about it. I mean, the success rate is much better but it's a huge jump in terms of cost, and it's physically a lot more rigorous than IUI. I know lots of women say that they didn't think they were strong enough to go through IVF and discovered that they were, that we women are stronger than we think we are, but sometimes I just don't know if I have what it takes. I don't know if G would even be up for IVF if that's what we end up needing to do...his parents still have a mortgage in their mid-80s and so he's super paranoid about paying off our mortgage as quickly as possible and not having any debt. I just don't know right now. Yes, speaking solely for myself,  I want a baby enough that I would be willing to go through with IVF but I'm not sure G wouldn't want to spend that kind of money. I earn a quarter of what he makes per year, so I don't feel like I have much of a right to make that decision if he isn't 100% willing. Thank god we have MediCare, at least!

Anyway, it's only CD 7 and I'm actually sort of debating giving the whole "not trying" thing a try. To just put away the thermometer, not look at the calender every day, and just recharge this month. But I know those thoughts and feelings are all stemming from just being so. fucking. tired. I just don't feel like I'm up to TTC this month...honestly, I just want it to "happen". I've been so ready for so many months now that maybe I'm just hitting a bit of a wall now that we're at the 9th month mark.

I think once that roast is out of the oven I'm going to bake some brownies. No, not the "special" kind. Chocolate seems fancy enough for me right now.

Okay, over and out.

Age of Consent

Yeah, it's a scandalous sounding title for a blog post but don't worry, I'm just rocking out to "Age of Consent" by New Order on my iPhone's Songza app. It's a bit nerdy more than anything else, I totally get that.

So, in light of this, I think I will more fully embrace my eclectic nerdiness and make this an About Me post, since I haven't done that really.

I'm Meg. I also just picked my derby-name: Ingrid Locke (as in "in gridlock"), and if I feel like being more public with my blog I might use my derby-name as an alias so that I can still keep a level of secretiveness with the people in my personal-life--just a heads-up. I'm 28, turning 29 in July, and I'm from "Super Natural" BC, Canada. Vancouver Island, to be a bit more exact, since I'll likely have to mention catching ferries and such at later points. I'm the oldest and only daughter in my family, and I'm one of those lucky products of two parents who got married really young and still managed to stay hopelessly in love with each other over the years. I was born on the Sunshine Coast and living in the middle of nowhere with just adults and family around for the first four years of my life (aside from my brother John, who was a baby at the time) meant that I had to be pretty imaginative and creative, and content playing by myself--understandably, I'm pretty introverted but I never get bored, ever. I can get restless but "bored" isn't part of my vocab.

We moved to the island when I was about 4 and a half because my paternal grandfather was passing away. My grandad's death was a huge deal to me, and he pops up in my writing and artwork all the time--always has, as a matter of fact. I was lucky enough to spend enough time with him and be old enough to get to know him and retain quite a lot of memories for being as young as I was, and he was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. He was a haemophiliac who contracted HIV and Hep C through blood-transfusions in the late 70s; the rest of our family, including my Granny, were all extremely lucky that we never contracted either disease. A few years ago our family was given copies of a documentary that had been produced in the late 80s about haemophiliacs living with HIV, of which my granny and grandad had both been interviewed in. It was absolutely mind-blowing to get to hear his voice again 20 years after his death! Did it bring me any closure? A little bit, yeah. To hear him say that he had no regrets, that the surgery to correct the hemorrhaging behind his knees gave him a better quality of life even though that was the probably when he received the tainted blood transfusion, did set me at ease. For a while it really stirred up a lot of emotions and vivid dreams, and it's a really good thing that I was in the midst of re-vamping my writing practise by taking a few poetry classes with a place to work with those emotions.

Okay, so, I was one of those really children who was totally happier in make-believe-land than playing games or sports or with Barbies. And I was totally picked on throughout elementary school--I get it though, I was a little bit of an odd kid, but I did have a bit of a nerd-herd gaggle of friends to keep me company every step of the way, many of which are still close-friends. Around the age of 15 I basically decided not to give a fuck what people thought, and I was lucky to have switched to a high school with a really great theatre program (not that I was really one of the drama-kids, ever) so diversity was actually almost-promoted and bullying didn't really happen there. I hung out with the goth/punk kids, and I'll admit I wasn't as much of a metal-head as the core of that group became, or as hardcore.

Here's a mental picture for you: skull-and-crossbones knee-high socks or fishnet stockings, combat-boots or red Mary Janes, kilt, a tight off-the-shoulder Blondie shirt with neon green bra-straps showing, spike-collar, dark red lipstick, tons of eyeliner, and long wavy dyed red hair. Or, quite often, my electric blue bob wig with heavy straight bangs. Yeah, I guess I stood out a little bit in my grad-class, hey?

Obviously I don't dress like that anymore, though I still do wear an awful lot of black, but as goth/punk girls go I like to think I was pretty adorable. If you gave me an option between listening to either Indie Rock or Classic Alternative & Punk Rock, I'd pick the latter. I could have happily haunted CBGB's in NYC if I'd been born in a different decade. Give me Joy Division, the Banshees, Sex Pistols, Nirvana, B52's, Pixies, the Runaways, whatever, and I'm ready for to have a dance-party all by myself. I'm a lot more picky when it comes to new music/bands.

Back on track: I went to my local university-college, which has since turned into a full-fledged university, straight out of high school, as was expected of me. I Majored in English, Minored in Visual Arts, and took a ton of Creative Writing classes. I went to NYC halfway through my 3rd year and realised that even though I found my English classes interesting, I didn't want to teach English classes for a career and probably would have been better off going to Art School. But I was halfway through and didn't want my education-thus-far to have been all for nought so I pressed on completed 5 years of my BA with a great GPA. I even went to Italy for a month with the Liberal Studies' Study Abroad program the summer before I graduated. Yes. Italy. I lived and studied the Italian Renaissance in Italy--how cool is that?! I did two semesters of a directed studies in Museology (study of Art Museums and Curatorial practises, basically) which included an internship with our local art gallery as the Assistant Curator in my last year, and in the span of about a year and a half I was included in about 3 art shows with small groups of instructor-selected art-students outside of the annual student art show that took place at the end of the year, and my Graduating Project show. I won awards for my ceramic work but I was really into installation, and blending my art and writing practises together. I felt like I was golden that last year of university. I did a lot of really cool things, like studio-visits, interviewing artists, writing monographs for exhibitions, and even doing a few interviews with our local news channel. I felt totally poised for launching into an amazing career.

And then I decided that I would move to our provincial capital, Victoria, and get myself an intellectually inspiring gallery job before picking the right Masters program. I moved into a townhouse apartment right in the middle of downtown, which happened to share a wall with a little artist-run commercial gallery. Rent was expensive, but I could literally hear them hanging artwork on the walls next door! Only, as it turns out, getting a job at a gallery is really competitive and often only part-time, and/or volunteer-based. So I ended up waitressing--yawn.

This was also the time-frame in which I began a romantic relationship with G. I'll have to save our "love story" for another post, though. I pursued him, and I had been sure for years in advance that he was the man that I was going to end up with. I can't completely explain it, even--I just knew.

Pretty soon after I got Zoe-dog as a tiny 9 week old puppy I figured out my downtown apartment and pedestrian lifestyle was going to have to change. Even though she's only about 18 lbs, she's a Westie and she needs a certain level of exercise, both physically and mentally. We needed a yard, plain and simple. So we move back up island, and eventually I got around to buying a car. She is the reason why I became a dog-groomer two years ago. She is my Heart-Dog, and I have tailored quite a lot of my life around making sure her needs are met. In April she'll be five years old, and I am more and more in love with this scrappy, clownish, expressive, bossy, adventurous, bright little white terrier with every passing year. G too. It took him a lot longer to bond with her because of his own dog passing away when she was still a puppy (more on that in a later post, I promise), but he spoils her all the time and doesn't even like leaving her at home by herself for more than a few hours.

This is where I'm going to have wrap up my About Me post. It's only partial, sorry, but I've got this huge pile of laundry waiting for me and I haven't even had lunch yet (it's almost 1:30PM here--yeeps!!).  

The Replacement

Right now I'm not sure whether to cry with relief or cry with worry. I am obviously emotional enough that I broke down and text'd my mom.

I just very nervously called my clinic to enquire about my lab test results, and discovered that my family doctor officially retired last week (WHAT?!?!?!). The secretary told me that they only call if there's something abnormal about my results, so not having gotten a call simply means that everything came back fine. I still want to know numbers, I still want as many details as they can give me, and I still don't have any answers. So I booked an appointment for next week, on the 12th, to meet and discuss where we're at with my new GP.

 And the biggest discovery of the day (so far)? My new GP is a lady-doctor! *Gasp!!!!!*

I have been dying to have a female doctor since the tender age of 18, when suddenly you're at that age where you have to discuss the nitty-gritty of your reproductive health, because I am a shy and awkward kind of gal. I felt awkward enough just having my former male doctor administer the Depo shot in my hip (I begged him to just give it to me in my shoulder but he never relented) when I was in my late teens, and I have been rather bad about going in for that recommended annual examination in the stirrups...I know it's not sexual, I am completely aware, but that's just how shy I can be! So having a fellow female do the future examinations and tests is such a hugely joyous bit of news for me. I won't be half as awkward and shy now--thank God!!!!

However, I don't know what this doctor is like. She could be dismissive or she could be highly motivated due to the fact that this is a new clinic full of new patients and newness has a way of inspiring a person, or so I believe. I'm not expecting her to be my new BFF, obviously, but if this journey becomes especially longer and full of all kinds of tribulations I really hope she's going to be the compassionate and diligent variety of doctors. After all, future visits may include some moments of tight-lipped chin-held-high heartbreak as well as successes. At this point, I don't know what's ahead.

I also don't know how long she's staying at my family's clinic. It might be just a year, or it might be more.

Because last month was not our month (AF arrived on Monday, so it's back to CD3) this will be the ninth cycle of TTC. I suppose the 0.1 degree drop last weekend was all that was needed to cue my uterus to start wringing itself out again--c'est la vive. Actually, this month was really good cramp-wise so I'm trying not to complain as much, I was able to function with just Midol and Advil and not have to spend hours curled up around a scalding hot water-bottle or basically living in the bathtub just soaking. I don't know for sure, but I sort of suspect that cutting drastically down on my caffeine-intake may have made this difference. I am not in agony, I am simply plodding along a little slower the last few days and craving chocolate.

G has yet to go in for his test. Maybe now that I've had it confirmed that my results were fine he'll finally set aside a bit of time to go in tomorrow and get it done--I'm hoping so anyway! Yesterday he referred to his possibly lower sperm-count as the "elephant in the room", and I do feel bad for him because I know he worries all the time that he may have missed the baby-boat by waiting until he was 50 to try. It wasn't his fault, prior to the start of our actual relationship 5 years ago he'd spent the majority of the 5 years beforehand with a girlfriend (who is only about 3 or 4 years older than I) who only gave him "maybe one day" as an answer until finally admitting that she wasn't on the fence at all and was honestly uninterested in motherhood. (I get really angry at her when I think about this too, especially since she still sends him Xmas and birthday cards/gifts in the mail and calls him more than any of my former partners contact me, period.) He would have loved to have had kids in his 40s, even though he was uber focused on his career at the time, but marriage and TTC was never seriously on the table for him until we started seeing each other. I am literally the only woman he has ever been with who has wanted children. I know it's hard on him that this isn't just "happening" and he will feel like it's all his fault unless his SA comes back without abnormalities.

So why am I wiping away tears since this phone call to my clinic? Because I know that regardless of G's SA results, I will likely be going on to more tests and they won't be as quick and easy as having 3 vials of blood taken. Fertility specialists want you to have all the test-work done before they see you, to know exactly what's going on physically. Even if G's results are so unfortunate that it's obvious that we'll need IUI or IVF they will need to make sure my fallopian tubes aren't blocked, that there are no cysts, polyps, or endo. This all makes sense: if there's something really wrong with me they need to correct it as best they can before we attempt pregnancy. It doesn't make me feel any more cosy about our situation though. I am still pretty nervous about the future, no matter what the stats are.

On a brighter side though, I'd like to take a moment to give a shout out. Kaeleigh of the Unpregnant Chicken blog (http://unpregnantchicken.com/) has kept me smiling and laughing throughout the last few tampon-filled days. Her blog is amazing and totally accessible--not just because I'm in the TTC boat also--it is worth a check-out! As a fellow Canadian, just one province to the right over, I've got to say her blog is my favourite! I also really like Infertile Girl in a Fertile World, by C who is also Canadian (yay!). However, I like to read blogs from their very beginning, in chronological order (yes, I am THAT nerdy), and I accidentally read over C's TTC time-line, at which point she had just gotten her BFP. So the suspense is a bit lessened, unfortunately. Since Unpregnant Chicken dates back to August 2014, it's a bit less daunting to try and catch-up--and it's good enough to want to catch-up!

Since becoming a dog-groomer almost two years ago, a day-job that I am a zillion times happier doing in my everyday life than waitressing (being a line-cook was okay too, but that was ages ago now), I have been guilty of taking a big step back from writing. Shame on me, I mean it. Even though blogging is not as esoteric as my usual poetry/prose scene, I am so glad to report that my passion for writing has been more than rekindled. I'm a decent groomer and I love dogs, I can easily keep doing this rewarding day-job for another two years if that's my path, but I am becoming more aware again that I need to try for more in terms of my long-term career. I need to rework the portfolios that got me short-listed for the low-residency MFA in Creative Writing two years ago, I need to reconnect with my former professors (because every year another one retires), and I need to reapply for grad studies. Babies or not, I need to carry on writing and being creative. Resuming, even if it's not exactly where I left off, has lifted my spirit up and I can't just walk away from that. It's time to stop being rusty and whip my inner-writer back into the sharp and perceptive machine it once was!

And now I think I'll put TTC and next week's appointment to the back corner of my mind and see about getting a haircut. I may be back to my writing desk in a few hours, or tomorrow, but I'll be back! :D

"I'm going to eat raw salmon like a seahawk today!"

That's what my dad said via text this morning. My family's not all that into football (American football, I mean), we're mostly interested in hockey and soccer, but for whatever reason G and my dad are determined to participate in Super Bowl Sunday this year (sorry, I'm just not into it). So in about an hour we're going to pick up some veggies and dip and head over to my parents' house. This will be the first time I've seen my mother since her "gestational diabetes" comment three weeks ago, so I'm a little bit apprehensive.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday I really wanted to do some writing but there just wasn't time. I'm super thankful that G is busy in his studio right now so that I can spend a little while at my writing-desk today.

The basics: today I'm 12DPO. I haven't poas yet, I'm waiting for AF to arrive in a couple of days (or not?). That constant feeling of being dehydrated hasn't gone away at all, and so I've been putting up with night-sweats and chapped lips, and G has filled the fridge with coconut water for me. I've also been getting occasional, really light cramping. No sore boobs here. My BBT dropped as low as 37.0 degrees yesterday but was back up to 37.2 this morning, where it's been for the most part during my TTW this cycle. Hmm. So I don't know how optimistic to be.

It would be so amazing though if this were the month. In three weeks we're going up to my grandparents' ranch for about five days and I'd want to tell them first. Well, maybe my parents first, to be fair, but I'm a bit afraid of how invasive my mother could get. Grandma's way more comforting and positive to be around. This would be their first great-grandchild, and they would be so excited. Maybe G and I would be able to relax just that little bit more while we're on a mini-holiday, also? That feels so greatly needed lately.

G's older sister, my favourite sibling-in-law, is finishing up the month and a half of radiation right now. The bad news is that her doctor feels that it's necessary for her to do more chemo again, just when we were hoping she was just about done treatment for the next while. Also, apparently there's a tumour on her spine and they can't do a biopsy until after this next round of chemo, and that has G really worried. From what we've been told they were able to remove all the cancer that they had found in her uterus before it had really spread elsewhere when they did the hysterectomy, and that the chemo and radiation was all just for precaution because it was a particularly aggressive form of cancer that they'd discovered. G and his siblings are all starting to think that she and her husband (who has been really great throughout all of this) have been downplaying how serious this is. Poor C (for her first initial) says she's tired of all of this, her hair had just started to grow back and now it will all fall out again.

Also, earlier this week I watched a video that had been put together detailing 3,000 years of women's "ideal bodies" as described by their own societies. I knew some of these things via Art History classes, because there's as long a history of artists depicting "ideal beauty" as there is a canon of Western Art History to be studied, but even just seeing how many times the criteria for "ideal" has changed over the last 100 years was interesting. I'm going to try to hang onto this--what? Notion of craziness? Rejection of superficial idealism?-- while I'm at my parents' house today. I've asked G to try not to leave me alone with my mom, if he can help it.

Well, G is back in from the studio and I think I need another huge glass of coconut water before we leave the house, so it's time for me to sign off again.

"They Made Themselves Extinct"

I'm trying to decide today if I want to see about getting in for a haircut. About 2 months ago I got a haircut that I really haven't liked but the super short layers (that made me feel like I had a mullet going on) are finally growing out and I'm just not sure...I've wanted to go back to having a bob, whether I go for a lob, inverted, or asymmetrical (although that would require a lot of maintenance) one, and if I just let this bad past haircut keep growing out I might just chicken-out of going back to a shorter overall length like I had a few years ago. Decisions decisions...

My best childhood friend moved to Fernie, BC a couple of years ago with her husband and baby boy. Her husband was having a hard time finding a job that paid well enough here, so they decided to pack up and go where the work was, make a good chunk of cash and come back later on. It's been almost two years ago since they left and I've been able to see SarBear twice (one day each visit). They couldn't make it to my wedding last year and it felt really strange not having her there with me on such a meaningful day, though I understood the circumstances of course. Just before Christmas we were talking over facebook messanger and she said they're thinking of moving back in a year, two years tops. Apparently they've found it really difficult to get to know people and make friends up there in Fernie, and it gets pretty lonely. She's only told a few people who are close to them so far, and I can't wait for her to move back.

On the side of my writing-desk I also have the obituary of a friend/coworker who passed away almost two years ago. She was just 21 when she passed away, and it was pretty devastating. We worked together on Mothers Day, and after we were done cleaning up the restaurant we sat outside the kitchen doors and each had a smoke (I'm not a smoker, I just used to have an occasional social cigarette a couple times a year when I was younger). She said she'd just had her tea leaves read and the woman had told her her feet still had so many places to go to. She said she'd been having a hard time, just feeling down and a lot of anxiety, and she was looking forward to moving away to work in this tiny town where she wouldn't be as likely to spend money flippantly, and then go to school for welding. There were a couple of strange things I happened to say in the last hour or two that we were there at the restaurant, without thinking: firstly, I referred to her a "LaLa" (which I had never done during the 2.5 years we'd known each other) and she stopped in her tracks and said "that's what my little sister used to call me", to which I shrugged and said "yeah, I don't know where that came from." The strangest thing was that I was so overwhelmingly anxious and emotional about her leaving, and I really wanted to extend the clean-up process so that we wouldn't be ready to leave so soon. Nimo, the sister of our boss who used to work in the kitchen (who is a super amazing woman from India, and really inspiring and super caring), was crying and Laura kept telling her that it would be okay because she'd come back during her winter break from school to help out with the Christmas parties. I looked her right in the eyes and said "this isn't goodbye forever," even though I had this feeling of dread. So of course, when we found out a few days later that she'd slipped and fell into a river the day after she'd moved and drowned, I felt horrible on so many levels.

The strangest thing was the week after she'd passed I'd had a very vivid dream in which she and I were on the city bus together and I'd asked her if everyone else could see her. She told me that only some people could see her, most of them couldn't, and I told her that I didn't ever want to stop being able to see her, at which point I woke up.

Her family's cocker spaniel is still listed in our client files at my current job, even though they haven't been in at all since I started there, months before Laura's death (I waitressed part-time for the first 3 months of working in the salon before I got sent to grooming academy). I have to scroll past their file fairly often because it's one of a hundred dogs named Molly in our computer system, and part of me always holds my breath. The computer system often randomly deletes files if a client hasn't been in in the last year, so it's a bit odd that they're even still listed there. She really loved her parent's dog.

How I got from talking about my best friend to talking about my dead friend is kind of awkward...uh, I'm not sure how that happened...

Back on a TTC note, my BBT is still high, but it's fallen another 0.1 degree today. So it appears it's making a very gradual fall as I get closer to AF arriving. 8DPO and no symptoms other than this continual feeling of being dehydrated. I think I'm needing to pee more but only because of how much damn water I'm guzzling every chance I get. One of my two Internet Angels Lkal just had AF arrive after her first IUI, which is a bummer too. Hopefully we'll get our BFPs someday soon though.

Happy Monday

G is in his studio and I am completely running out of energy post-work, now that it's almost 10PM. I felt like a quick update was in order though.

Good news: my temps reached 37.3 degrees by 3DPO and have more or less stayed there, with a 0.1 degree drop today at 6DPO! Absolutely awesome, especially since I never had as high of temps (and not consistently) last cycle. I couldn't be more pleased...well, not until I get that coveted, sacred, dreamt of, slaved over, gorgeous BFP! And I am dying of thirst all the time. I can't even begin to explain how much coconut water I've gone through the past few days, and I am drinking water like crazy. I am either fine, particularly after I've just had a glass of water, and then I'm parched. The in-between hydrated and dehydrated doesn't appear to exist for me right now.

I haven't heard anything from my clinic in regards to my test results. G has decided that he's not going to go in and get his SA done until we get the results for my tests--one step forward, one step back? In all fairness, he's been really busy between teaching, attending a exhibition opening on Friday night, and his younger sister's birthday yesterday. And he's fretting about putting together a 30-45 minute presentation discussing galleries, artist-run centres, and alternative spaces for his Friday class.

Speak of the devil--he has just come through the back door from the studio and is talking to Zoe-dog. Time to sign off for the night, I think.

XO

Best Coast

Thank god for roller derby practise last night!!!

I know contact-sports and TTC don't seem like the best of matches but you all don't have to worry, I promise--I'm a total newbie and so I'm not going to pass my level 1 skill-testing and be permitted by Coachie to participate in any actual scrimmages anytime soon, I'm still way more concerned with keeping my balance on my skates (actually I haven't had a fall in over a month, come to think of it) and trying to learn how to manoeuvre around in the various ways I'll need to if I'm ever in an actual bout. I'm not all that into hitting or taking hits either, I just want to be fast or really good at blocking.  My former salon manager & friend Kitty Glitter (that's her derby name, obviously) and I got interested in joining the team in late-spring of last year, before my wedding, and she got all her gear and joined in October. I'm still borrowing Coachie's extra gear (mostly compiled of everything her two kids have outgrown) and started in November, and I'm nowhere near as derby-obsessed as Kitty even though she's been TTC for years (though she's not all in with the OPKs, charting, forums, books, etc, etc...she's more like "if it happens it happens"). So I guess we're kind of mirroring each other in an opposite/switched-around way, if that makes sense, regarding derby and babies...?

Anyway, Coachie brought her personal trainer to our practise last night, and our butts got kicked to the curb! Our practises are two hours and within the first 20 minutes of the off-skate boot-camp with the personal trainer I thought I was going to puke. Or just drop dead from lack of oxygen. Either or. But I have this crazy love-hate for off-skates, I guess because I've got so much more experience doing crunches and jogging (actually, I really dig interval running a lot, when I can manage to get myself off the door and motivated to run regularly) or bicep curls and squats than I do doing T-stops or flying around the flat track like the more advanced girls on our team. But, even though I'm so sore today, our super intense practise basically saved me from this suffocating anxiety I had all yesterday. And for that alone I am so thankful.

I was just so freaked out about how I knew today I needed to go from my orthodontist appointment to the lab by our house for my tests. I was getting so worried that they were going to find something wrong right off the bat with me that I could barely think about anything but all the various hardships that we might have to face in our TTC journey. But I got up this morning and I just accepted that unless our test got started we wouldn't be able to get the ball really rolling, and maybe our doctors would think that we weren't seriously invested.

G did great, actually. He was just as nervous and felt really awkward about having to do a SA in general but he took a Viagra (which his Dr prescribed him in November--and, ladies, those little blue pills aren't cheap--not because he can't get it up but in hopes that maybe he'd feel more inspired to BD after coming home from a tiring day at work) because he was worried about getting it done and performance pressure. He'd set his mind to it though and wanted to give it his best shot (no pun intended).

So we met up at the little hospital that's about 5 blocks from our house, with our lab orders and Care Cards in hand (yay for Medicare!), and went down to the lab in the bottom floor. Only the lab technician informed us that my Dr had been wrong when he'd said that G could do his SA there, with the possibility of being able to produce the sample in our cosy little house and just drive it the couple of minutes there to drop it off at the lab for testing. Not the case. He actually has to go to the big hospital in our neighbouring city (which we commute to for work anyway) which is about a 25 minute drive away...he will have to face the "spank tank," unfortunately. Because he had a faculty meeting at noon it wasn't an option for him to do his SA today, so he's thinking he'll go in and get it done on Monday. He was disappointed that we couldn't just get it done and out of the way, and also that I probably won't be able to go with him on Monday because of my own work schedule. And the Viagra has given him a horrible headache...booo.

I was able to get my tests done on the spot though (no appointment needed), which is good because I'm now on CD19/4DPO and I had to get it done in that small 3 day window. The tech took 3 vials of blood while I asked her to explain exactly what the "CBC Ferritin TSH" was. The progesterone test I get, but I had forgotten about the rest. She said they'll test to see what my iron levels are, and also my thyroid (won't my mother be happy about that!), that kind of stuff. I asked how long it'll likely be before the results are in, and she said for the two tests it'll probably be tomorrow morning, but the progesterone testing gets done in Victoria, about a 2 hour drive away, so the sample has to get sent down there and and it'll take about 3 or 4 days to hear back about that. I hate needles, and I really hate having blood taken, but this lab tech was pretty good. I've had techs who did things like accidentally move the needle around while it's still in me, and that was dreadful! This all went pretty smoothly today, well, for me anyway.

So the first big milestone has been crossed and we are on our way to finding out if there's anything going on that might be standing in the way of our baby-dreams. I think we're going to have an early dinner and then maybe go see a movie tonight, as a way of kind of mellowing out after all the pre-test anxiety. Zoe-dog is already mellow, apparently, she's curled up on a pillow behind my chair right now--she's a sweetie.

I feel like I could go have a nap, and it's only 4:10pm.

   

Follow the OPK Road

I have been so busy with work and all I've really wanted to do was be at home writing--yowzers! So once again I have way too much to write and not enough time (I really need to get to bed in about 20 minutes so that I can get my 8 glorious hours of sleep and feel human when the alarm clock goes off at 6:30AM) (something to know about me: I get resentful of anything that keeps me up past 10:30PM or cuts into getting at least 8 hours of sleep, unless it's an emergency or something I've chosen well in advance).

Well, I got a nice spike in my BBT this morning, which I think was the post-ovulation thermal shift I had been waiting for. Another two days of elevated temps and I'll get my crosshairs on my chart for this cycle--exciting! The downside is that for the past week and a half my poor sweet husband G has had quite the man-cold and so we basically didn't BD until yesterday (O day) and this morning since the start of this cycle...lame! Will this whole month be a TTC write-off or did we somehow manage to catch that elusive egg? We'll know in 2 weeks I suppose!

I got a lot of baby-cuddles from my childhood friend's baby yesterday afternoon. He is a phenomenal baby who never fusses for no-reason, and the kind of baby even G hopes we might be so lucky as to have ourselves one day. I just love him to bits, and yesterday if I wasn't holding him he was focusing on me and giving me lots of smiles--it was an adorable-overload! And my friend MM is such a good mom, which makes me hope that one day, when it is finally my turn, she'll be my go-to friend for baby-related advice.

On another quick note, I have also been very busy doing quick little readings for different gals on the Pink Pad forum--I never thought I'd have so many PMs pouring in for reading requests!! I feel a little bad because I was so busy at work that I couldn't be as prompt as I generally am, but when I've sat down and been able to focus I've been able to do about 4 readings per hour. And it's always interesting; sometimes certain cards just leap out at me, and everything feels so clear even though all of the readings are basically anonymous. Two women of the same age, with the same Birth Card, have PM'ed me back-to-back and yet when I look at their identical cards I see different things, and their readings are different. No two readings have been the same. It's also been interesting to answer some of the questions that I've gotten back after readings, even though I feel like it's really hard to articulate exactly what I mean, especially in such a short amount of space/time.

Anyhow--it's bed-time for me! Goodnight, world!

Psychic Suzanna and the Cards of Destiny.

I didn't get a chance to write a new post yesterday--sorry--and now I'm a little bit scattered in terms of what to write today.

Let's start with the basics, I guess. It's CD12 today ("cycle day" for anyone who might not be TTC acronym savvy), my BBT is the same as yesterday and ovulation should occur anytime within the next few days if my cycle this month is the usual 28/29 day length. So just waiting for that thermal shift, and after a couple of days of elevated temperature I should get my crosshairs on my Fertility Friend chart. Then, CD 18-20 or so (depending where my days off align with my cycle) I'll be making my way to the closest Life Labs to have my progesterone levels checked--something that I was going to do last month, except that the labs were closed during Christmas, which was already fairly busy for us. There are dark chocolate covered jube jubes in my writing desk's drawer, and I have finished my little cup of three-quarters-decaf latte.

So yesterday on one of the Pink Pad forums a bunch of girls started discussing how they'd asked Psychic Suzanna Stickney a free question via email about when they might conceive. Because I've got a love for things like tarot, tea leaf readings (my fave of faves), and things that are mystical (even if my more practical side passes these things off as "silly"...not completely, though, because I really do believe in my heart of hearts) I decided to cash-in on my free question to Suzanna too! After a few hours she emailed back and said: You will be holding your healthy daughter in your 30t. By "30t" I believe she meant "30th year." Being that I'm 28, and not turning 29 until July, and that this is the 8th cycle of TTC, 30 feels like a very long way away. Yes, I would like a daughter, and throwing in that it's a healthy baby makes me relieved after my mother told me on Sunday that she thinks I will get gestational diabetes if I get pregnant at my current weight (I am maybe 140lbs? I normally fluctuate between 120-135lbs, we just went through the holidays and I am a bit out of shape at the moment so I will throw on a possible 5lbs in my estimate for the sake of fairness. I am also just under 5'6", for the record. I am not a toothpick but I am also not a whale, if I may say so myself. HOWEVER, my mother has a well-known track-record of being a gym-bunny health-nut Virgo, and sometimes she says all kinds of shit that's upsetting to anyone who isn't in as good of shape as she is. Sunday wasn't the first time she's said something like this to me, and I know she means well, but it has left me feeling pretty screwed up about my body-image all week---blah!). (I have completely digressed, sorry!)

Okay, so as disappointing as it is that my TTC journey might be a long one, this whole 30th year prediction isn't shocking. In fact it's one of those things that makes you sigh and nod and think I just hope that's it, then. Oh, no, I don't mean that in a Debbie Downer kind of way. I really am a very optimistic person, even if the passing months get me feeling hopeless from time to time. It's just that I have very secretively done a bit of occult predicting over the years myself, and my own cards have been always the most accessible for me to read.

My maternal grandmother is a sweet old hippy-lady who does reflexology/reiki and believes in all kinds of wonderfully mystical things like angels, asking the Universe, spirit guides, reincarnation, the power of intuition, and tarot cards. Every summer, from the time I was 15 until 23, I used to stay with my grandparents on the mainland and work at the restaurant their friend owned so that I could make some decent money to last me through the school year--so very important once I started going to my local university! My grandma has always been like a  second-mom, and if you ask her she will tell you that she recognised me the moment she first saw me as a tiny newborn baby because we have a soul-connection--I love the heck outta her, in any case! She has a friend who is a psychic named Katherine Sue, and she turned her onto Robert Lee Camp's Cards of Destiny. We used to call KS whenever we were passing through her city (about an hour's drive from my grandma's ranch) and have lunch with her, and if we were lucky she would say something about the future in her usual off-the-cuff manner over her soup and salad. Along the way KS told my grandma that I need to start learning how to use the Cards of Destiny, and so my grandma photocopied her book so that I could have my own copy, and taught me the basics. One of the very last summers that I stayed with her, she asked me to do a reading for a daughter of a friend of hers because she didn't have time to do it herself; she gave me only the age and birth date of the girl, and asked me to do a full year's reading. I did so, and she passed it along to the anonymous girl who apparently was very happy with what I had picked up on. It's not something I've stuck to doing, though at one point in time, about four years ago, I got into the habit of doing weekly readings for myself. Generally I just scan through whatever my spread is for the year, maybe do a bit more of an intensive reading for myself around my birthdays, and that's about it. It's not the sort of thing I like to advertise, even to my closest friends.

In my spread for the next five or so years, there's not a lot of evidence of pregnancies, births, or motherhood happening for me until my 30th year. There were suggestions of possible pregnancies in my past years but at the time I was diligent about preventing, not trying, and I made the series of choices that led me to where I am right now. C'est la vive. It appears that there will be something unusual or unexpected about the possible pregnancy in my 30th year, but that's about as much as I know.  My 33rd, 34th, and 35th year all suggest possible pregnancies, but after 35 that's that. Not a lot of opportunities, though I don't think I'd personally want to give birth after the age of 35, it's just not what I've kind of got planned for myself, and I don't think G would be very happy about having a baby in 8 years. He already worries about being "too old".

Well, I mentioned some of this stuff about Psychic Suzanna and the Cards of Destiny on the TTC forum post and when another gal asked about the Cards of Destiny I said I didn't mind taking a peek at her cards if she wanted me to, she just needed to tell me her birthday and age. When I sat down to write this post (and oh has it gotten to be a long one, even though I feel like I have so many other things to write about still) a couple of other women on the TTC forum sent me PM's asking for me to do a quick reading. I kept it brief, just did and scan really, and got back to them both as promptly as I could. I don't want to steal Psychic Suzanna's spotlight but I don't mind doing something quick like this, not on a day-off.

Anyhow, it's now past noon--holy crap, where did the time go!?!--and I need to get stuff done before G gets home from work and thinks I've done nothing but watch Friends on Netflix and waste away my life. He doesn't know I'm writing again, which would make him really happy, but I also don't want him to read/follow this blog.

Just Another Trying to Concieve Blog

I assumed back in the beginning of last year that it would take a few months, maybe three because that seemed to be a fairly decent amount of time for any new endeavour with just the right level of measured optimism, and I am a relatively practical girl in spite of being sensitive. We didn't want to try too soon before our June wedding, because I wanted to be able to fit into my dream-dress and my dear husband-to-be felt it was way too stressful to be trying to bring together the final details of our wedding plans, and baby-make at the same time. I read What to Expect Before You're Expecting from cover to cover, and bought a big bottle of pink prenatal vitamins in anticipation.  It'd been many years that I had carefully worked on making myself ready: a good job, good overall health, a finished university degree, a bit of travelling in my early 20s, and a great guy I was/am still quite happy to spend my life with. I hadn't been on the pill for over a year and, even though we hadn't been trying, we hadn't been overly concerned about preventing. I had this, right?

In February 2014 I had one of the longest cycles I've ever had in my life, complete with random hot flashes, nausea, and fatigue. This is It, I thought. We both got very anxious and excited to say the least. I took a HPT a few days before actually missing my period and was so baffled when it was negative after the 5 minute wait. "Don't worry," said my pregnant gal-pal via Facebook message. "They lie! It took two weeks for me to get a positive!" And so I held my breath, waited until my period was officially late, and vowed to test again in a week. I tried not to puke my way through a three hour Yes concert that made my stomach do the wave, and a couple of days later Aunt Flo finally arrived. So that was that. No Baby on Board. Not yet anyway.

We decided to jump the gun and start "trying" in May, a month before our walk down the aisle. March and April had given us enough time to shake off the disappointment of not accidentally falling pregnant, and we agreed that if it was going to be too early for any of our guests to notice that was good enough for us. We hopped into our bed without a doubt in our minds or a worry in our hearts that it would simply happen.

January marks cycle #8 of our TTC journey. It still hasn't "just happened" the way we thought it would. It may not be "our month" this month, however, I've decided that 2015 will be the year that I get back into having a writing practise and January will at least be the month that I created a blog.

B may not be for Baby, but B will certainly be for Blog.