Clomid Day 4

One more day of this shit.

I went to a lunch meeting today with some colleagues.

It was lovely.

I purposefully wore a light sweater due to my perspiration issues.

All of the sudden, I felt a heat wave coming over me. My cheeks and ears were FLAMING. And I was in the middle of a sentence.

And next thing I knew, I had tears in my eyes...

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO ME?

Thankfully noone really noticed.

Also, Mr. Rootbeer and I had a really great talk last night.

I am so very lucky to have him.

I am craaazay.

Again...blame the clomid. :P

Clomid Day 3

I shouldn't be complaining about the clomid.

It really isn't that bad.

I have been through a lot worse this past year.

Which makes me wonder...why am I complaining about it?

I should be happy to take it. Cramps, bloating, headaches, and profuse sweating are worth having a baby. Right?

The truth is I'm scared.

Scared it won't work.

Scared it will.

Scared of the effect that this is having on my marriage.

In some senses I know that the journey we have traveled in the last year has bonded us. Bonded us beyond what I believe the average couple reaches in their first year of marriage.

In another sense it has also torn us apart.

I used to feel like Mr. Rootbeer got me. Ya know?

Like he was the only one who really understood me.

And now, even though we are united by the greif and disappointment of the past, I feel alone.

Alone in a way I have never felt before.

I just want it to all go back to the way it was before.

Sometimes I think about giving up. Saying fuck it. Going back on the pill.

But I don't think that would help.

Our only choice is to keep pushing forward and trust that God has a plan for us.

Sorry I am such a debbie downer today...blame it on the clomid.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

A few months ago I put google analytics on my blog. I was interested in seeing if anyone was even reading my blog and where my readers were coming from. I was quite surprised to find I actually had readers. And from all over the country and even in other countries.



So, yesterday I was sitting around with Mr. Rootbeer, watching football as per usual on a Sunday afternoon, when I decided to pull up google analytics and check on this little old blog. And would you believe that people are still reading my blog? When I figured this out I felt just plain guilty. Guilty, because my blog has sucked hardcore lately. I have been writing without inspiration. Or barely writing at all.



I needed inspiration and guidance. And somehow I got the bright idea to go back and read all my posts from the beginning. This was really the first time I have gone back and remembered those few weeks I had my baby. The verdict is still out on whether this was a good idea.



You decide.



My blog can basically be broken up into 4 parts.



Part 1 - TTC ROUND 1

This made me laugh. I was so impatient after trying for only a few cycles. Alas, I can recall some of these feelings. I remember being so frustrated the cycle I got pregnant. I remember the night we found out. But when I read the post about that night, I remembered much more. I knew I was pregnant before I ever saw those two lines. I remember going to dinner with Mr. Rootbeer that night and telling him I was pretty sure it would be my last sushi dinner for a while. I remember getting home from dinner and Bubs telling me to test. I remember seeing the lines and feeling so happy. I know happy is a pretty run of the mill way to describe such an overwhelming emotion but when I think back all I can see is happy.



Part 2 - Baby Rootbeer

Once I saw those two lines my blog was happy. There's that word again. This was the happiest time my blog has ever seen, and yet when I read it last night it was the hardest part to read. One one hand it was sweet to see how delighted and hopeful I was, on the other hand it was sad to see how innocent and unaware I was.



There was a post about pregnancy pimples that brought me to tears. I was complaining about having zits all over my body. But at the end of the post I said something to the effect of not being able to wait to hear Baby Rootbeer's heartbeat and how it would be the sweetest sound I had ever heard next to hearing Baby Rootbeer's first cry. I never got to hear those sounds. It breaks my heart all over again.



Part 3 - The Aftermath

Ok this is the part where shit hit the fan. After losing Baby Rootbeer I was a mess. It was hard to read. I had posted a recount of the events of that day. And I had tears streaming down my face as I read it last night. This section is full of raw emotion. Sadness, greif, confusion and sheer disbelief.



Part 4 - TTC Round 2

This is where the blog really started to turn to shit. Because you see, there is no magic left in TTC for me. I write about nothing. The posts show clear signs of a bitter and depressed newlywed. How wonderful.



I have friends who are TTC for the first time. They are so excited and filled with hope and anticipation. I dare not burst their bubble. However, I am insanely jealous. I wish I could get that feeling back. I feel like I am stuck somewhere I am not supposed to be.



According to google analytics, an average of 6 of you have been reading these miserable posts. So, to the six of you I apologize. I vow that I will make a valiant effort to make my blog better. To entertain you with the funny little anecdotes that occur, and to fill you in on the details of TTC round 2.



And since we are focusing on positivity...there was something wonderful I found while reading my blog. I found all the wonderful, supportive, and loving comments left by readers. Thank you. Thank you for the support and the love.



The truth is people. I am scared. I am absolutely terrified of being pregnant again. Even though it is the one thing I want more than anything.



What happens then? Will I be happy again? Will all the pain I have been trying to process over the past 6 months go away? Will I be able to enjoy another pregnancy?



I guess we will cross all of these bridges when we come to them.



I am also anxious about my impending due date. January 5th. The day Baby Rootbeer was estimated to arrive. What the fuck am I supposed to do on that day? Just thinking about it causes my chest to tighten. And as this day approaches I find myself being reminded of what I should be doing. I should be finishing up the nursery. I should be attending my shower. I should be huge. The approach of this due date and the holidays makes me want to run away.



:deep breath:



OK enough about that.



In CBEFM news, it is still giving me a "high fertility" reading. Today is CD 15. Mr. Rootbeer and I have been having a sex-a-thon for a few days now and I don't plan on calling it quits until I see a "peak fertility" reading. Also, I bought a pineapple.



I am desperate people. The thought of standing on my head after sex has actually crossed my mind in a serious manner.

Mr. Fix-It

Well here we are again. I haven't blogged in a while mainly because I haven't really had anything new to say. We are still trying to get pregnant, and I am still not pregnant. I am still having a hard time with all of this. I am trying so damn hard to be positive but it is more and more difficult every month.

Today is most likely CD 28 and I am probably 13 DPO. I say "most likely" and "probably" because I didn't chart or use OPKs or anything again.

I have been hearing things like "Just relax and it will happen," or "it will happen as soon as you stop trying" for about a year now. Both are among my most hated phrases.

I took the last two cycles to "relax" and "let it happen."

But guess what, it didn't.

I spotted yesterday, and again today. Which is a clue that AF is hiding right around the corner. Waiting to pop out and remind me that I am not pregnant yet again.

A few months ago I would have still had hope at this point. I would have said to myself, "self, you're not bleeding yet. Some women spot when they are pregnant." But I am fresh out of hopeful pep talks for myself. And frankly, I am annoyed by the ones I get from others. Even from people I love most.

The two people closest to me in my life are Mr. Rootbeer and my Dad. I am incredibly close to my father and I always have been. He knows more about me than anyone and we talk about everything.

My Dad is Mr. Fix-It. He always has been. He can fix ANYTHING. I never had to worry if something broke, I would bring it to Dad and he would fix it, no matter what it was. In fact, when I was 11 my pet cockatiel Prissy had an unfortunate accident with a ceiling fan. She broke her beak and I remember picking her up and carrying her over to my Dad and saying, "fix her Daddy." He did.

And when I met Mr. Rootbeer I noticed the same quality. Mr. Rootbeer can fix anything as well. I don't think I could have married a man who couldn't. I break things a lot and it's comforting to have a man around that can make everything right again.

Well, I have been feeling pretty broken lately. It has been over a year since Mr. Rootbeer and I started TTC. I am disappointed and discouraged every month when I start to bleed. It breaks my heart into pieces all over again, and it seems to get worse every cycle.

This month has been the worst so far. It's not about the miscarriage anymore. It is about the fact that I have tried everything in my power to get pregnant and FAILED over and over again. Getting pregnant is the most basic and natural function of the female body. And I can't seem to hack it.

I was overly optimistic about this cycle. My breats have been very sore. I have been bloated, and breaking out very bad. I actually thought we might have finally succeeded.

Yesterday I ran home and into the bathroom and I looked down and saw pink. I closed my eyes and starting saying "no no no no." I prayed. I actually sat on my toilet and prayed for God to make the blood go away and replace it with a positive pregnancy test. And today when I saw more blood in my bathroom at work, I lost my shit. I sobbed and I felt sorry for myself.

Neither my Dad nor Mr. Rootbeer can fix this. And they have tried. They try with their words. They tell me that I will get pregnant soon. They tell me it will happen when we least expect. They remind me to be thankful for what I have. But it just makes me feel worse. Because I know they can't fix this for me.

I am still feeling sorry for myself. I don't know where to go from here. On one hand I want to call the Dr and begin testing. On the other, I want to go back on birth control and maybe regain some sanity.

I probably won't do either. I will probably just keep trying and praying.

And again...

we are on to the next cycle. AF showed up on Thursday. I feel like since I haven't been charting or using OPKs (at the request of Mr. Rootbeer), I can't really be that disappointed. Yet, I am.

So here we are, almost 4 months have passed since we lost Baby Rootbeer...still unpregnant.

I decided after careful consideration, to give Mr. Rootbeer's "good ole fashioned way" one more try. He is convinced this is the best way, and he really wants to try one more cycle, or not try, or not try to try. Ugh...one more month of this crap.

I am doing this for my husband. I have to keep telling myself that.

If I don't get pregnant this cycle, we have decided to use a Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor next cycle. And of course the pre-seed. At least then I will know if and when I am ovulating and if we are timing sex correctly. Based on the length of of the three cycles I have had since the miscarriage, I know something MUST be different. I have got to be ovulating later. But thanks to my stubborn husband, I have no idea.

I know, I know...so many people make perfectly healthy babies without ever having to chart, or use OPKs or even know anything about their own body. I say GOOD FOR THEM.

It doesn't matter what other people have done. This is MY journey to MY family. For some reason, this is the path I have been forced to take, and I have no choice but to find a way through it. I know I will have the family I am meant to have. I just hate the uncertainty in it.

Waiting...

I am still waiting for AF. I probably shouldn't have expected to see her on Sunday, but I did. On to CD 31 tomorrow and more waiting. I would have been 17 weeks today. I lost baby Rootbeer 10 weeks ago tomorrow. It is so weird. I feel like I was pregnant just yesterday, but at the same time I feel like it was years ago.

I went to see the shrink today. She has been on vaca for a few weeks so we should have had a lot to catch up on. Or um I should have had a lot to catch her up on. But I really didn't have much to say. She asked how I was feeling, I replied with "flat." She said I am depressed. She said she thinks I should consider calling my Dr to get on some sort of anti-depressant. Apparently, she isn't the prescribing-type of Dr.

Um no. I will not be taking an anti-depressant right now. Mr. Rootbeer and I are finally gearing up for TTC again and this is no time to be introducing new drugs into my body. I just want to feel better. I know that I can get through this without meds. Mr. Rootbeer totally supports my decision. So for now I wait...

Wait for my period...

Wait to TTC...

Wait to feel better...

Did I mention I am one of the least patient people on earth?

The "talk"

I received a text message from Mr. Rootbeer yesterday saying he wanted to "talk" when we got home. Excellent. This is never good. I had a funny feeling it was going to be about TTC. I must be psychic. When I came home we spent some time chatting about each of our days, and Mr. Rootbeer ate dinner which he had made for himself since I had a working dinner meeting.

Deep down I knew this was coming. Mr. Rootbeer is not much of a verbal communicator, however I have become increasingly comptetent at deciphering his non-verbal cues. I had this feeling all day long that this was not going to be a talk I really want to have. I worried that he would tell me that after the miscarriage, he isn't sure he wants to TTC again. I knew this "talk" was TTC related, because as I get closer to this cycle being over and closer to the time we decided we would TTC again, I can feel the tension rising. I knew there was something he has been wanting to say and hasn't. It took a lot of poking around for him to finally tell me that he would rather me not start temping and charting again. Which I am ok with. My OCD tendencies tell me that charting is the only road to conception, but I know that isn't true.

So no more charting for me, which is relieving.

A death, a birth, and a few scorpion bowls

I went to church yesterday for the first time since the miscarriage. My great-aunt died and my family and I went to the funeral. I didn't forsee this being one of the things that sparks an all-out breakdown. Alas, it did. Here I was sitting in church, sandwiched between my dad and brother when it was time for communion. For anyone who hasn't gathered it from my previous blog posts, I just haven't been that happy with God lately. After receiving communion I knelt and prayed. I prayed for Aunt Rita's soul, I prayed for my Uncle Jack, I prayed for her children, grandchildren, and anyone else who is greiving. And then I realized that I never prayed for my baby. I never prayed for Baby Rootbeer's little soul. I started to cry a little but managed to hold it together until the service was over. When everyone had finally filed out of the church, I snuck off to light a candle and pray just for my little Rootbeer. I cried harder than I have cried in a few weeks. I have been holding it all in and trying to be strong, and this was my moment to let it out and do what I should have done a long time ago. I made peace with God. I asked him to take care of my little one until I got there. I begged him to bless Mr. Rootbeer and I with children, if that is his plan for us.

After the funeral I headed over to the hospital to welcome the newest addition to our family. My littlest cousin, "Baby Izy" was born Wednesday night. I was nervous walking in. I didn't want to cry or look upset, and take anything away from her day. But when I walked in, I couldn't have been any happier. She is so tiny and precious. I sat there holding her for about an hour, talking to her proud parents about the birth. I kissed her little nose, rocked her, and told her how much I loved her and how happy I was to finally meet her. I knew my entire family was watching me and exchanging nervous looks, and secretly gauging my reaction.

After the hospital I went home to let the doggies out and take a nap. I slept for about a half hour, and then the fun began. My friends and I try to get together once a week for dinner, it usually works out to twice a month due to scheduling conflicts and such. Last night four of us went out to a Japanese grill. The food was delicious, the scorpion bowls were strong, and the conversation was highly inappropriate. After we had had our fill we couldn't bear to leave each other yet, so we continued the festivities at a favorite local hangout. 4 beers, 4 cigars, and 4 drunk girls later...we finally left. I stumbled home and Mr. Rootbeer took advantage of me :) It was a fantastic night.

Helter Skelter

That is what this post will be, a mish moshed rambing of a whole bunch of random shit. I promise that the entire entry won't be depressing and bitter. I will work my way up to the good stuff. I will warn you that my emotions are raw. You may not like what you read.

People say really dumb shit to you after they learn you have had a miscarriage. And at this point in the game, I am not excelling at filtering my responses.

"At least you know you can get pregnant." - That's a good one. Probably the most common one I have heard. My response to this is usually "What is your point?"

"This too shall pass." - Ok, the first 2 times I heard this one, I wasn't really sure what the intentional meaning was...so the 3rd, 4th, 5th...times I responded with "What exactly do you mean?" I mean really, what is that supposed to mean? I am not being sarcastic, I am being as serious as a heart attack.

"This is God's plan for you." - Let me begin by saying that this is the only one on the list that actually makes sense. In fact, my faith in God is the second most important thing getting me through this right now. My amazing husband is the first. The only reason that it is even on this list is because it makes me mad. And it makes me mad because I am mad at God right now. Yup, little Mrs. Rootbeer is mad at God. I am mad at him because women who smoke crack and don't take prenatals have perfectly healthy pregnancies, and I lost a baby. I took my vitamins, I didn't smoke crack. See my point? No? I don't care. Oh yeah, and I don't even respond to this one I just roll my eyes. It's really the best I can do.

"Now you guys can practice." - I am assuming this is a "cute" way of saying we have an excuse to have sex now. Hmmm...last time I checked we didn't need any other excuse besides the fact that we like to. Glad we got that one out of the way. I roll my eyes at this one too.

Ohhhh I got a good one...

"You know, having a miscarriage is as common as having your wisdom teeth removed." - I have only heard this little gem once. I was caught a little off guard, so I said, "Ok well they can remove all my teeth and give me my baby back." Yeah, can you say uncomfortable?

This next one really hurts my feelings and makes me want to cry everytime I hear it...

"Well, at least this happened now, your body knows something wasn't developing right." - Ok, there is a pretty strong possibility that my body did what is is supposed to do and naturally terminated the pregnancy. I know and understand this. But there is no need to mention it. Also, when you say it like that, you are presuming that I would not have had this baby if there were such a complication and my body had allowed the baby to develop a heartbeat. Which is wrong. I would not terminate a pregnancy for any reason. It is my own choice and it's none of your business. So just don't say that. Ok?

And this one today was my fav...

"It just wasn't the right time, hunny, ya know? The economy is so shitty." - Bwahahahahahahahahaha yes, I laughed. There was nothing else to do. I laughed so hard I almost cried, and it felt so good.

And do you know what happened? She laughed too, kinda nervously, she was probably afraid I was losing my shit. But I really thought that was funny. So, right then and there I have decided that when someone says something dumb to me about my unfortunate situation, I am just going to laugh at them. Because it makes me feel better and it makes them feel bad, instead of me feeling bad because they have said one of the above phrases and them feeling better because they have offered me some sort of "wisdom."

And, let me also say that I know that people have no idea what to say to me right now. And I also know that 98.4% of the people saying these things are people that love me. They mean nothing but to comfort me, I am just bitter.

But really, they don't need to say much, all they need to say is "I'm sorry." And for all those women out there who have had perfectly healthy pregnancies and beautiful chubby babies, don't feel guilty when you talk to a woman who has gone through something like me, or something even worse. Feel lucky. Thank God. (or your lucky stars if you don't believe in God) Appreciate your blessings.

Ok enough about that. The good news is that after the D&C, my doctor prescribed me xanax. It is glorious, especially since I hadn't slept in two days.

On Saturday, Mr. Rootbeer and I decided it was time to get out of the house. So, we went to Lowe's. We bought TONS of flowers. Any flowers I wanted, I got. We got yellow grecian roses, lavander, lilacs, lilies, daisies, etc Mr. Rootbeer also wanted to re-mulch the gardens, so we did that as well. The yard looks amazing. I felt so accomplished. I got a total high from working as a team with my husband and seeing our backyard vision come to fruition. Here are some pics.

I think you all are probably sick of hearing about how unbelievable my husband is. But, you guessed it, I don't care. You should have married him. He is really that wonderful. And not only is he so friggen awesome, he is also really handsome. On Friday night he said something to the effect of "soon we can forget all of this ever happened." And I lost it, I started to cry and I told him I didn't want to forget my baby. So Saturday morning he gave me this gift:

It's a beautiful little angel charm for my bracelet. He said it was a little something for me to remember our baby. I love it. I love him.

Mr. Rootbeer loves to fish. So to show my appreciation for him, I accepted his invitation to go fishing yesterday. And guess what happened? I caught a freakin fish! A brown one, with spots! It was awesome, he was so proud of me. And I was very proud of myself. I wanted to take a picture holding it but I just couldn't touch it. So, I settled for a picture of Mr. Rootbeer holding the fish. Here are some pictures for your enjoyment:

This is a picture of Mr. Rootbeer waiting for me to hurry up. I had flip flops on and that path was covered with very pointy sticks and pine needles which did not agree with my choice of shoewear.

This is a picture of the beautiful pond we went to fish.

That's the fish I caught!!!

And for the rest of the weekend, I pretty much just did this...

I love my dogs. They are such good snugglers.

Sunday Funday!

Chris along with some friends and family worked very hard on Sunday to install central air in our home. I can't wait to hit a button and not have to worry about sweating my pregnant ass off this summer. They went into the attic and they found a huge nest of birds! The momma bird was feeding the babies and it was the cutest thing I've ever seen. Well, I didn't exactly see it for myself, my Dad took pictures for me.

I am really grossed out by these birds living in my attic, but what am I supposed to do? Throw the baby birds into the wild? I couldn't! They are too young and need their momma bird. Oh well, they will be long gone by the time Baby Rootbeer comes.

While the boys were workin' hard on the air conditioning, I got out of there as fast as humanly possible. I spent the day with three fabulous nesties! We met at the Roosevelt Square Mall in Long Island, for a fun-filled day of shopping, spinach artichoke dip, and chocolate covered gummy bears. It was awesome! Check out some of our pics below!

Bubba, Thusa, Me and Weeeeee :)

The low point of the day HAD to have been on my drive home. After we got to Thusa's, I jumped in my car for my hour drive home. I was on my way to the highway, driving down a dirt road when morning sickness suddenly came over me. I couldn't pull over because the road was literally not large enough for another car to pass me! So, being the resourceful woman that I am, I reached into the backseat and found a paper bag to vomit into, while still driving. Noone can ever say I am not multi -talented. I called Mr. Rootbeer to tell him I was on my way home, and what had happened and he laughed at me for about 5 full minutes. Thanks Mr. Rootbeer, thanks.

The Rootbeers

I have decided to start a blog, in the hopes of finding a place of solace. A journal or diary of sorts. I am unsure if anyone will actually read it. Maybe someone, somewhere will read a post and find something valuable. Maybe not.

Let me start by saying that this blog will not be entirely about trying to concieve, or being a newlywed. Although, at times I'm sure I will post about these topics, since they are huge peices of the proverbial pie, that is my life.

So, let's begin...

Mr. Rootbeer and I were married on October 10, 2008, after dating for 4ish years and knowing each other for about 10 years. It was the single most incredible day of my life, to date. Let me tell you, I have married the most amazing man on the face of earth. He is handsome, caring, and strong. But what I love about him most, is the look his eyes. Whenever I look into his eyes, I melt. Puddle on the floor, weak in the knees, aching feeling deep in my heart kind of melt. I trust those eyes. I love those eyes. I secretly pray that when I finally see our children, I will discover they have inherited those eyes. I not-so-secretly hope that they inherit his beautiful lips, since mine are on the small and puny side. Hopefully we will concieve these phantom children soon.