February 05, 2012

Time Flies When You've Gotten Over the Excitement of the Internet

Wow. I just realized that I didn't write to my blog at all last year. Not once. Not even one little measly post. I guess I know that all things have their exciting period and I guess a blog is one of them. Sometimes I wish I could write anything and everything that I think. Sometimes I don't want anyone to know my thoughts. I guess having a blog to share my thoughts has now been replaced by social media. It gives pretty instant feedback and seems more casual. For some reason, finding an actual website feels like work to most people these days.

Then there's the one thing that has been responsible for the large chunks of missing writing from my past: happiness. When I am happy and content, I don't feel a need to write. You could look back into my paper diaries from when I was a kid and see years missing. But, I am happy to report that I am happy. Maybe someday soon I'll add to this blog again, whether happy thoughts or passive-aggressive aggravated thoughts. Until then, dear reader, (or random guy who tries to spam my comments section as if the MASSIVE amounts of readers on here will get you business) I hope you're happy. Oh, and thanks for making your way to an actual website. With actual words. You're why the Internet was created.

September 03, 2010

So Easy to Fall

Well, I'm feeling down so here I am. As usual, I only seem to write when I'm upset or depressed. I guess it's a good sign that I haven't posted an entry in a while then.

I feel like a fool. I shouldn't, though, because my brain likes to believe that my body is like everyone else. But it's not. That's why I started this blog in the first place. It was supposed to be a place to vent my frustrations about my body and my inability to do what so many other women do: get pregnant.

If you know me, you're thinking, "But you DO have a daughter!" And you're right. She took the long way around, but we were finally fortunate enough to have her. So now that she's getting older, I have opened up slowly to the idea of having another child. Having your first child is kind of like bungee jumping. Sounds fun, but you can't really be sure what it feels like until you do it. Having a second child takes much more thought (in my opinion) but you know EXACTLY what you're in for. There's a lot of wonderful moments and then there's the moments you want to run away, preferably to Sandals or some other adult-only resort.

So after some thought, some consideration, and some reconsideration, we figured that it was a good time to "try." We tried the "non-not-trying" approach for a while, but it didn't work. I'm sure some frustrated woman who has the propensity for killing her kids would have had five by now, but my body doesn't work like that. At least I didn't think it did.

My doctor suggested I start charting my cycles. I didn't want to TRY because that takes too much effort. I know some previous times how easy it is to become obsessed and want a baby too bad.

"I don't want to think about it. I want it just to happen," I said to my doctor. Looking back on it, he probably was wondering why I thought he's a miracle worker.

"I think you're right," he said. "Sometimes you shouldn't think about it too much."

I agreed. We smiled. All would be fine in the world...except the fact that we were both trying to bullshit the universe.

The easiest way for him to be able to tell what's happening with my body without me doing too much is to chart. Basically, you shove a thermometer in your mouth when you first wake up. You record your temperature and when it rises and stays elevated, you know you've ovulated. I yawned at the thought of it. Taking a minute out of every day sounded like work. However, I bought a thermometer for $8.99 (which was money I could have spent on Doritos) and began charting. I discovered an online service where you enter the temps and it "charts" for you. So I charted and charted, all the while scoffing at my own dysfunction. Then, all of a sudden, it said I had ovulated a few days before. What? My body was/is working? How could that be?

It took me a few days to believe it. A few days after that, the excitment started to slowly creep in. I tried to shoo it away, but finally I gave in. Then I did what I know a lot of women who are trying to get pregnant do: I believed in myself and what my body could do.

It's funny how something that you're not exactly wanting at the moment could become something you so badly want in such a short time. I think it's because when you can't have it, you want it. Especially when a lot of other people get it without much effort.

So after two weeks of thinking I could be pregnant, then believing with almost 100% certainty, then even feeling pregnant, I got my blood work results back today. Negative. BFN. Big. Fat. Negative. (BFN is a popular, although not liked, abbreviation in the trying-to-conceive community.) The pessimist in me wasn't surprised, but the part of me who wanted to believe felt let down. And stupid. I am happy with the way things are now. In fact, there's a part of me that believes it's actually better if I don't have a baby yet.

I just have to rememeber that next time. That's if I allow myself to fall into the trap again. Who knew it would be so easy to fall?

June 19, 2010


For your reading pleasure, we take a look back to my previous attempt at a blog...

Sunday, September 11, 2005

My dad always said, "There's no such thing as a free ride."
But what happens when you feel you've already paid your toll? What happens when you feel like you've given everything you've got only to find out that you're the only one who has paid?

I have no one to blame except myself and even I acknowledge that I probably can't take responsibility for my problem. Hell, no one can. Unless there's a God who insists on fucking with me. Maybe Mother Nature? Fate? Or maybe I should just chalk it up to damn misfortune, like I have been trying to do. Luck of the draw. Short straw. Story of my life. Shitty end of the proverbial stick. It's certainly easier if no one is to blame.

But yet I feel broken. I feel dysfunctional. For some reason, something natural and easy for everyone else is a complete obstacle for me. But I like having a scientific reason. Balanced Robertsonian Transfer. I like the definite, point-to-it reason instead of looking into things I've done or said. We so often try to make sense of things, try to reason them out, but there there are some things that have no reason. They just simply suck.

There is a song by the Indigo Girls that contains the line: "If we ever leave a legacy, it's that we loved each other well." I like that idea. Is legacy the reason why we even choose to have children? We need someone to leave our 1st edition Hemingway to? Or does it go much deeper than that? Or perhaps even shallower? Perhaps we are all just a product of sexual pleasure, a remains to the act that was performed. Kind of like burnout from a tire or steam from a kettle. Just a temporary sign. A really elaborate way to write on the bathroom stall of life: I WAZ HERE.

I wish I knew what caused us to want to have children because then I would turn it off in my own mind. Just when I think I've done a successful job at switching it off, I am thrown to the floor by the force of it. It is my kryptonite.

I am on the floor. There's nothing like six billion examples in front of you showing you so many, many people that could do what you cannot do.