Eloquence

.

Shit.





Cycle Day 1.





Fuck.





Any suggestions on how to convice Mr. DD that by me wanting to move to IVF #2 does not, in any way, imply that I am giving up on him?





Damn.

Ka-BOOM!

There have been posts too numerous to count that touch on the emotions that surround secondary infertility. I don't plan on tackling that quite yet, as that is the type of post that requires more drafting and editing than I normally do with my posts, which are usually typed and posted within the same sitting.

However, I really thought that one of the responses I would get with my last post, which asked (hypothetically) why we wanted more than one child, would be a dressing down by someone who is facing primary infertility. So far that has not happened, but that doesn't mean that one (or more) of you weren't thinking what a selfish hag I am. My response to that? You bet. I am selfish and if I could have it all, I would. I'd have the husband who prefers to be called Doctor DD; I'd have a summer and winter home in places that were always warm and pleasant; and I'd have the 2.5 kids spaced 2.5 years apart. My motto? "It's all about ME!" But that doesn't mean I'm insensitive to your fears, concerns or that I don't celebrate in your achievements. Thank you for doing the same for me.

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Can you believe lately that my imagination is getting the best of me, AGAIN?! I've been pregnant three times (possibly four: positive HPT back in January 2005, but a week later, I tested negative at the OB's when I started bleeding - I didn't do the offered beta test - why bother if I was bleeding heavily?). I thought I learned not to look too early for signals based on my experience from the IVF. I didn't have any of pregnancy signs (nausea, tenderness, fatigue) until after the HPT came back positive. So why am I looking already for clues, especially with how this cycle was literally a shot in the dark? In fact, at the most I'm 10DPO, that's if I even did ovulate, but I have the breast tenderness and my asthma has gotten worse (which it has only done during the last two pregnancies). On the other hand, PMS and my recent bronchitis can account for both those tricks of the mind.

There is only one symptom lately that makes me fairly certain, at least 99% certain, that we could never have gotten so lucky on our first month out of the RE clinic to get pregnant, and that is my recent unabated craving for chocolate. As much as I L.O.V.E. chocolate, the recent desire to consume the bag of Nestle baking chips I have hidden in the pantry, which I've partly already accomplished, has been the tasty death knell of this cycle.

In a weird way, I was really hoping this would work only so Mr. DD and I don't have to sit down and argue each of our sides: his being we need to keep trying on our own; and mine being let's gear up for IVF#2 by starting a cycle of BCP as soon as my period starts next week. That conversation will have all the volatibility of a pack-mule carrying nitro down through the Grand Canyon.

Why Do We Want Two?

Sometimes I have these thoughts that we shouldn't have another child. Times like the other night when I was trying to get some of the house chores done while Mr. DD worked late. Those are the moments when X literally demands my unwavering attention by pulling on the hem of my shirt and pleading, "Play with me...just for a little bit?" in that toddler whine that makes my ears bleed. I try to explain that I have Responsibilities and Chores, but at 8:00 at night, he is deaf only to the sound of cars crashing; trains chugging; or planes swooshing.

In moments of desperation, much like this recent episode, I try to bribe X with computer time or his V-Tech, just so I can finish cleaning the kitchen. I feel selfish and thoughtless by not being able to pitch the sponge into the sink, tear off the rubber gloves and go have fun on the living room floor. But, it's not always fun. I'm embarrassed and feel like a terrible Mommy, but I don't like to play. It's one of the reasons I "joke" about being lazy. There's truth to that. If he had said, "Mommy, come snuggle next to me on the couch and watch a movie," I would do so without hesitation.

That's why I get these feelings deep in the pit of my stomach that make me question the reasons we are trying so hard for Child #2. If I feel X is capable of making me want to escape to a tropical island, how is it that two children would have the opposite affect or even alleviate some of my urges to escape. Are we trying because outside influences have always expected us to have more than one child? Or are my reasons even more sinister: that I'm looking for a live-in playdate for X so I can get chores done or not hear, "I have no body to play with," for the bazillionth time?

I even think that our infertility woes have been Mother Nature's; God's; Karma's; Fate's way of saying, "We don't think you appreciate and love the one you have now. There's no way I think you could handle two!" Don't say I'm being too hard on myself, because I tell myself the same thing when I'm frustrated beyond fury with X's whining, bed-time delays, and endless streams of, "I can't...!" or "I really wanna...". I get so mad at Mr. X when he looks over the top of X's head during one of his fits to ask me if I'm sure I want another; but I think the reason I get angry is because he is verbally stating what's in the back of my mind, but I'm too chicken-shit to analyze it for fear of discovering something I honestly couldn't bear.

I realize that the stress and depression of the failed ART treatments make the external forces in my environment less tolerable, and I really hope (in a weird way) that Depression is impacting my ability to sweat the small stuff, or make me edgey and bitchy when X starts his bedtime whine (which apparently is when I start my bedtime whine as well, based on this post).

Maybe my biggest concern about having another baby is that I can't answer the question, "Why?" with an enthusiastic, "Because we LOVE babies!" Luckily no one has ever asked us why we want another baby, because I have no clear answers. I only know that for every moment I have with X like from the other night, there are a 100 more that nearly make me drop to me knees with love; like the times he yells "Mommy!" as he runs out the care-giver's door and jumps into my arms; when he laughs from the belly from sheer joy; and when he spontaneously says, "I love you, Mommy." Those are the moments I live for. It's those other, rarer and troubling moments that keep me awake at night.

The Muppet Personality Test

You Are Dr. Bunsen Honeydew

You take the title "mad scientist" to the extreme -with very scary PINK things coming out of your blog.And you've invented some pretty cool things, from a banana sharpener to a robot politician as well as a link to Acronyms for Dummies.But while you're busy turning gold into cottage cheese, you need to watch out for poor little Beaker!"Oh, that's very naughty, Beaker! Now you eat these paper clips this minute...don't make me come over there and beat you."

The Muppet Personality Test

Thanks to DinoD.

Strip Search

Not only do Germans apparently love David Hasselhoff, but see this link: http://search.jubii.dk/cgi-bin/pursuit?query=sex+uner+water+couple&cat=loc

Key word search brought my site up under # 5. Bring it on, David!

And be honest with me, I'm a big girl. Am I just boring overall, or are you just waiting to see what happens on the ART front before giving me some blog love. I need some stroking here, people!

Eureka!

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Warning: The Following Post is Fraught with Links

We all know that my incredible talent handling html codes and formatting my blog is BAR NONE! (You smell that? It's sarcasm), but I believe I've finally figured out a way to get one of the major goals I had set out to do accomplished. For those of you who offered their assistance to my plea, "Thank You" and I'm sorry I'm not a very good pupil.

Blogger has a ton of limitations and they are only compounded when you have someone like me looking at the template trying to figure out what I can totally fuck up next. Since I found the keeping up of all my favorite blogs out of my lazy-ass-league, I knew that the maintenance necessary to keep up on the Acronym list would never get beyond the two original links unless someone lit a serious fire under my butt.

So, when I thought about just using a link to bloglines instead of a long list of links to keep it simple (stupid), it suddenly occurred to me last night how I could link to the website that had all the acronyms. But some of the acronyms that need to be on there (PUPO, NBHHY, WTFF, etc.) would never make it past either of those sponsoring website's proper channels for approval. Inspired by some email chatter back and forth with Schmutzie, I created a test blog for a new banner I want to add to this blog, which may not be unveiled until about 2010, but damn it, I'm working on it! Anyhoo, I decided to turn my test blog into a blog that could have the list of all the acronyms we all see, use and do! Aren't you just giddy with excitement?!

Oh...it's just me...never mind.

But really, I know that there are alot of newbies out there who sometimes feel a little left out of the loop until they've made it around the block for a couple of months. I was. Maybe I still am.

Now you can just pop over via the link over to your left called "How to Win Friends and Influence Your RE" and enter my alter-ego blog of logic (har-har). AND, the best part? You can leave a comment with any new acronyms and I can easily update the post. The possibilities are endless.

It's brilliant, don't you see?

Are you picturing me wearing big, black insulated rubber gloves, wringing my hands in psychotic glee with my hair all frazzled out and electricity going through one of those sci-fi orbs in the background?

BTW, I do have comment moderation on at the "How To" site as I would just take the info you give me and add it to the post...unless you would prefer to see who was suggesting what? Just let me know.

Bodily Functions

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I promise, nothing too disgusting even if a title like that conjures up all sorts of ick.

I came down with a cold last week and Friday I stayed home from work. It has progressed into a mild case of bronchitis. This has totally screwed up my ability to sleep soundly if one could call my sleep habits "sound." Normally I would wake a couple times a night for potty breaks and go right back to sleep. But now I wake up at midnight, 3:30ish and again at 6:00, but not necessarily to make a dash to the bathroom. Now I just wake up in a sweat and unable to breath from all the gunk settling in my chest. Once I'm up, the coughing fits start and I get short of breath so then I have to take a couple hits from my inhaler (I'm asthmatic).

If you've never had the pleasure of an albuterol buzz, then I can only describe it to be much like the high you would get downing a gallon of espresso within 15 minutes - not too conduscive to a good night's sleep, but I can usually doze off after an hour or so.

That means any attempts of charting my temp have met the same fate of most of the sputum I have been able to relieve myself of - completely trashed. And the pain! OMG, the pain between the two upper lobes of my lungs when I cough makes me think of the spark or flash one gets when they strike two pieces of flint together. By the time I get over this thing, my abs should sport a 6-pack the Material Girl would be jealous of.

Then there's the other pain I've been having since Saturday. Lower left abdomen. The first time it hit, it took my breath away, and just as quickly the pain was gone. It woke me two different times that first night. Since then it's only struck about once a day. Guess what's going on in my head? I bet you can't. I mean what else would a woman who's taking her first month off from the fertility treatments and making a go of actual baby-making-sex think of when she has those kinds of pain? But they are too painful to be good signs. I'm already thinking "ectopic."

It's probably much too early for any of those thoughts anyway (right?). So, I'll chalk it up to some intestinal glitch and hope over the next few days the pain and the frequency diminish. At least it hasn't gotten worse.

I Sure Know How to Pick 'Em

Check-out lines, that is.

I went to the grocery store for just a few things. I quickly made out with the "necessities"for breakfast: grapefruit, syrup, pancake mix, blueberry muffins, pudding and a magazine with the rumor of Tom and Kat splitting up (oh, how my heart aches for them...NOT!) and off I headed to the check-out.

I slipped in line with my mini-cart and noticed just a few things from the woman ahead of me still on the conveyor belt and settled in. Too late I noticed the store manager and another supervisor looking over the woman's receipt and at the register and at her check. Backing up and going one line over is not something I like to do. It just screams, "Impatient Bitch" to everyone so I hunkered down and looked through my magazine. I figured if it took long enough I wouldn't have to buy the magazine, right?

Even though management left the checker to his business shortly after I parked my cart, seconds later I catch this question from the customer to the 17 year pimply-faced checker, "Could you tell me what that check number was?" as she propped open her checkbook's ledger section. He stared blankly back at her and quite frankly so did I. Now the customer was not some 130 year old geriatric. Nope, she was probably in her late 40's, trendily dressed with a rather large coiffure.

Before I got top ledger checkbooks, I know I have asked - from time to time - what the amount was again so I wouldn't have to fumble over the receipt later, but she wanted the check number. I was trying to send her a telepathetic message by glaring at the side of her face that the check number would be ONE DOWN FROM THE CURRENT CHECK IN HER CHECKBOOK, STUPID! but she didn't get it. I think the hair had some blocking abilities. Instead, Pimply had to call the manager back over to unlock the register to pull out her check and show it to her.

And get this. She was writing a second check for the rest of the stuff that I had started thinking she didn't want because it was still on the conveyor, and the check was from the same checkbook!

I Am The Best Liar, EVER!

*

So, that's all you've learned about me from 6 months of blogging? I'm a myopic, horny lush? Oh, ladies, how you wound me! But, before I get to that, I will mention that even though you think so "highly" of me, I would still split out the powerball winnings with my best be-otches: IVFs all 'round, bartender (to those who want but can't afford, and to the rest, we'll work out something)! Alas, it was not us who purchased the winning ticket(s), not for lack of forking out a couple of bucks over the past week, but just because we could never be that lucky.

Recap of Liar, Liar is as follows: 1. Barfing Blue-Berry; 2. Myopic, Horny Lush (I can't believe you went there!); 3. Cheapo Margo; 4. Private Dancer; and 5. Wee, Wee, Wee All the Way Home. Only one of you "guessed" correctly at the truth, and that was the lovely Suzanne, and that was ONLY because she knew! She slyly came in as the no. 10 commenter with her cleverly disguised guess. Indeed, I was a professional ballroom dancer and instructor.

During my sophomore year at the infamous Nebraska university, I became a disillusioned artist: the classes were too big and the teachers really didn't give a shit if you passed or failed. I flunked out the first semester and decided to find a job instead of going back to school. I was barely 19, but was able to BS my way into a job at a franchised dance studio and was trained in the basics. In the following 4 years (in which I spent more time in 3 1/2" heels than a Vegas cross-dressing hooker - standing on my feet - going backwards), I had moved through the ranks as an instructor for beginners to advanced. I was a supervisor in a couple different studios within the midwest and had the opportunity to compete professionally and in the pro-am (teacher-student) levels. Ironically, the main goal of the studios - for those of you who have never taken lessons - is sales in dance lessons. BIG sales. I had one student who purchased a package that not only included several hundred hours of lessons, but a competition package to Florida. He plunked down $37,000 that day. No shit. I will never forget that student. He had a dour-face, but he was the sweetest man I have ever had the privelage to meet.

In the above pix, I am the one in the pink dress with some of the other instructors and students. The one below is from a regional pro-am and am leading a student through one of our routines.

At 23, I decided that I was not getting any younger (bwahahahahaha!) and decided that being a ballroom instructor was never part of my retirement plan - actually who makes a retirement plan in their 20's? I quit, became a boomerang baby and moved back to Small Town, Nebraska and completed my degree closer to home.

I did entertain for quite a while the possibility of opening my own dance studio here, and was even pursued by an established jazz/ballet studio to provide lessons. The disadvantages were too many: no skilled - or even closely willing - dance partner (Mr. DD who has an excellent ear for music, does NOT have any rhythm) and certainly no time to train a partner; no extra funds; and at the time only a half-dozen or so interested couples.

Almost 20 years later, I still watch the USBC (United States Ballroom Championships) on the public TV channel and I look for familiar faces. Obviously no one I use to know is still competing professionally, but I see them as judges occassionally.

D&ncing with the St&rs? I hate it, but watch it because I like to point out the mistakes to Mr. DD who believes only a coke-head with AADD could move as "fast" as they do with the Cha-cha. I poo-poo it all. "Make them perform Mambo or Vienese Waltz!" is what I say to that noise because those rhythms are more difficult. Really though, I think I watch because I miss it. Every now and then a song comes on the radio and it has the perfect beat for a Rumba, Cha-cha, Foxtrot, etc., and I dance to the song in my head reciting "ticka-ticka", which was how we verbalized the hip-action; or "quick-quick-slo-ow" to remind myself of the timing of a Foxtrot.

Someday, if I ever do win the lottery, I have already decided I would like to become one of those students that any ballroom instructor only dreams about: one with LOTS of money and a little bit of ticka-ticka to make me dangerous.

I also think I've learned something about this particular meme. There are times when you just have to believe in what may seem unbelievable. I will try to keep that in my head (and heart) over the next couple of months.

"Liar, Liar" Meme

I've only done one or two "memes", so I thought I would give this a try to pass some time. I've seen Liar, Liar before, but I was reminded again of it over at TB's.

The general gist is simple: one of the five statements below is true, the others are tall-tales. I want you to guess which one is true. I will need at least 10 guesses before I reveal the non-fiction statement and any of the details associated with it. I know a few of you that DO know the answer. You can play as long as you don't make it obvious that you really do know which one of these is true.

And guess what? It's really hard to come up with four semi-believable lies that aren't actually based on some truth. Don't believe me? Try it yourself.

1. When I was a teenager, I won a pie-eating contest at the state fair. As I was accepting my ribbon from the Rodeo Queen, I promptly lost my stomach contents on her fancy white Ropers. There's still a stain on the auditorium's stage floor...it was blueberry pie.
2. Before Mr. DD and I got married, we had a somewhat social life and would go to the bar on the weekends. One particular evening I had had one (OK, three) too many Colorado Bulldogs, and on a trip back from the ladies room I sat down at a table and started feeling up the guy next to me that I thought was Mr. DD. He was actually at the table one over.
3. I am very closely related to M&rg Helgen*berger (CSI Veg&s), and when she comes to visit her immediate family who still live in Nebraska, she always stops by our house to visit or take us out to dinner. It's fun, but she usually makes us split the bill.
4. I was a professional ballroom dancer in my early 20's and competed regionally and nationally. I like to watch D&ncing with the St&rs, but when Mr. DD watches he is just amazed at how intricate the steps are and he doesn't understand that most of it's just basic steps with a couple of kicks here and there.
5. I lost my pinkie toe in a water-skiing incident a couple of years ago. When I tried to climb up the boat from the back, my foot slipped off the step right into the propeller blades. It was a clean slice through the bone so there was no chance of grafting it back on. I now have a love/hate relationship with flip/flops.

Just Some More House Stuff

This is where I plan on watching the child(ren-?) play once the deck on the back of the house is installed, which will run the entire length of that wall perpendicular to those 3 columns. The camera view is from the master bedroom and no, the location of the propane tank is not permanent. The house is actually a ranch with walk out basement (you have to have those here in the Midwest).

I also need to decide what color to have the house painted. I like neutrals, but I've seen some beautiful houses that were painted dark colors like blue-gray and spruce-green, so I'm really undecided.







This is the view we will have from said deck.

The GREAT mass-DEBATE-er

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My OB/GYN told us that there was this study done on some navy personnel in order to determine sperm count from day to day. Some of the men were to masturbate daily; others only every other day (poor bastards – must’ve got the short straws). At the end of the study, it was shown that the men who had daily release did not have significantly lower counts than the men who had to endure the torture of 48 hours.

Our RE wanted us to make sure that Mr. DD had complete abstinence for at least 2-4 days before each of our IUIs and the IVF because this helped build up sperm count.

Which of these two theories would you buy into if you were trying to conceive naturally? Since we are getting VERY close to the big O, your opinions would be greatly appreciated.

So…every day or every other day? Yes, I’m talking about S.E.X.

It's Too Early for a Good Title

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Isn’t it a lovely day? If it is then you are living either to the west or east of me…or quite possibly the north or south. And according to CNN, things are just going to be beautiful today compared to this weekend! I hate how they assume that the location of their station is the only place on earth getting weather that deserves air-time, as today is going to be cold and crappy here in Nebraska and we may see some snow before nightfall. Moving on…

If it wasn’t for your encouragement, I would’ve stopped using the OPKs several days ago. But fortified by your spirit, I kept testing; I bought a basal thermometer; I signed up on fertilityfriend.com; and may be the proud owner of a Taking Control book thanks to Oro. Better yet, yesterday a.m. there was a 2nd line on the OPK. Today, it’s much darker and I’m thinking I still may ovulate this cycle. I won’t let it bum me out much that it may be on CD16-18, which potentially sets me at a 35 day cycle, and that’s if I don’t have a short luteal phase. G*d! This is so much fun! Wheeee…just when I thought I’d miss the excitement of ART for a couple of months. I feel like twirling around like a little girl!

In other developments: the electrical work is complete in our house, and it has been dry walled and mudded. I have until next Tuesday to present our contractor the paint colors for the interior. The cabinets for the kitchen and baths have been ordered and the material and colors for the countertops finalized. Flooring is still up in the air. We have a bid for what we want but since we’ve gone over budget on just about everything else up to this point, we were hoping we wouldn’t on the flooring. Well, we are, and we’re waffling…and I’m still twirling.

Hey! Slappy! Wake up! I know things are boring over here right now. I also know that it’s hard to get into someone’s blog when they are not on the same page as you – and believe me – I feel as if I’m doing this whole baby-thing* in reverse. Normally, one starts out by temping and OPKs, then ART, then baby. Me? Baby, then ART, then OPKs…because I like working and thinking outside of the box; because I hate being “vanilla”; and because the next thing I’ll be talking about is losing my virginity.

~*~*~*~*~*

* I sent a Valentine email with the picture of X to my friend with a brief note that was cheery and non-threatening about how I haven’t heard from her and I missed getting pictures of her kids and that I hope to hear back from her soon. I did that Monday. Still no response. Mr. DD said at least I can say I tried.

The "Little" Love of My Life

Because I want to share something fun, light-hearted and in the spirit of the season, which being Valentine's Week, it seems only appropriate to share a picture of my very special Valentine.

Can you make out the "L", "O", "V", "E"?

I especially *love* the "E".

(I had to republish this. How could I have this post NOT be the most recent for Valentine's Day?)

He's 'da Bomb

Is anyone else upset that they killed off the bomb-squad hottie* on Grey’s Anatomy? I was sensing some chemistry there between himself and Meredith.

Another chance for her to fuckin' move on shot to shit...literally.

* Said "hottie" is Kyle Chandler. I checked out TV Watercooler, which I have linked over there on the right.

Silent Stupidity*

My Blogging Bitches: You're always wrong.

DD: How am I always wrong?

My Blogging Bitches: Steely Dan is not one person. We get fringe benefits, not french benefits; it's not the Leaning Tower of Pizza; and James Dean was an actor - Jimmy Dean makes sausages; and you take your BBT orally, not vaginally!

DD: We don't get french benefits? ...I suppose you'll be telling me next that the stork doesn't deliver babies...
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.
.
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*homage to Queensryche...just in case you were wondering...

Jonesing for Assvice

Because in my prior life, before infertility (B.I.), I was a complete ignorant asshole, I never had to bother with taking my temperature. So when Nico asked me via a comment in my prior post what my temp was doing since the OPKs were proving problematic, I had to admit that I have no clue. I did respond to her by saying if this morning's OPK was still representing the vast wastelands of the South Pole, I would look into learning more about BBTs.

I'm a woman of my word. I need info. I understand the basics, but I think you would want to make sure that I do not go out and buy any old thermometer (or worse yet, make the current thermometers in our house perform "double-duty"), and all advise in this newest endeavor would be greatly appreciated as I am representing YOU, my fellow future (and current) baby-makers, and I know you don't want me going to the nearest Tarjay or Walgroans and making an ass out of myself.

Nico alleviated my worry by telling me that I don't necessarity have to take my temp still laying in bed, with Mr. DD laying beside me all huzzed out because really...that's no different than inserting a tampon; but anyone else have any advise you would like to share? Any BBTs out there that are better than others?

Not According to Plan

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I am struggling right now with our decision to not jump right into another IVF cycle. Up until today, I was optimistic that we really could do this on our own. My appointment with Perfect PA was uplifting and the FSH levels for CD3 were still within normal range as well as the Estradiol. PA even agreed that the leaky boobs-thing was probably nothing more than hormones, but to call if the discharge turned black or bloody (AS IF I would “call”! I’d be in the office, braless, within 5 minutes of discovering anything black OR bloody coming out of my boobs!)

I had a nice, normal period, reminiscent of the months before I ever had my first stimulated cycle. I bought a package of OPK and put a new blade in my razor (my legs have taken on the characteristics of a giant tarantula), all in physical and mental preparation that we will not have a third person in the room assisting us in getting pregnant. I’ve even lost 8 lbs since October so now I am only a couple over my pre-pregnancy weight in 2001.

However, on Wednesday, which was CD8 I decided to use up one of the OPKs just to get a baseline reading of where I was. My prior cycles during our treatments had been shorter than normal, running about 26 days. Before stims, I was a normal 28-day-cycle-kind-of-girl. The second line on the OPK was visible, but barely. I decided not to test again until this morning, now CD10. No second line. I could almost imagine the second line, but really, there wasn’t one.

I called the clinic and asked if it was possible for me not to ovulate for the 2nd month in a row after the IVF. Nurse Bitch said most women go back to a normal cycle by this time, but some do not. She said it’s possible I already ovulated, or that I may not ovulate at all (can we say "waffle"?) If over the next couple of days, I don’t read a surge, I’m supposed to let them know as I may have to go back on some type of stim for next month…if I don’t end up convincing not only myself but Mr. DD that this whole business of trying on our own is just not going to work.

I’m more than just stressed. I’m feeling a little frantic as this new development comes when I was just pumping myself up mentally that we REALLY could get pregnant within the next couple of months and have a baby by year end. My little bubbles of Hope are bursting as fast as the little Infertility Bitch-Fairy can pop them.

Let’s all chant together: “It could still happen. It could still happen. It could still happen. It could still happen.”

It could still happen.........................right?

Don't Screw With Me, Daddy

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Yep, that’s what he said. My angel-faced 4 year old expressed himself quite clearly last night during supper to Mr. DD…or did he?

Actually it was my fault. Mr. DD was hounding X about eating his supper and removing his hot wheels from the table, “No toys allowed while we are eating.” I figured Mr. DD should cut some slack as he was sitting at the counter eating his supper while X and I were at the table. So in defense of X’s small heard of toy cars, I told Mr. DD to “stop screwing with X,” to which X repeated the magical phrase above.

Mr. DD was a little bent from the exchange, but I quickly diffused the issue by explaining to X that I shouldn’t have said that and it was my fault and I apologized. The problem Mr. DD doesn’t realize is that if he should have just laughed it off, (like I did because it really was pretty frickin funny, but I was cut short when Mr. DD’s face started turning red), or better yet, ignored it, because X obviously didn’t even know what he was saying, but just repeating what I had said.

This is only the second thing we have ever heard X say that we would consider inappropriate. The first was “Shut Up.” Considering how much we swear around him even though we try REALLY hard not to, this has been a minor miracle. Shut Up was met with immediate punishment so now when I am talking to a friend who may say something outrageous and I respond with, “Shut up!”, X is right there with a frightened and concerned look as he whispers, “Mommy, you said…shut up.” *Gasp* the horror! In turn, I must apologize to the recipient of my mock Shut Up and get approval from X to continue my adult play-date.

I recently saw a national news show do a brief spot on profanity. Why do we swear? I know why I swear. One side says it’s because we have lost the ability to communicate our expressions and opinions clearly and appropriately without offending another’s delicate sensibilities. However, I just don’t believe that someone can relay the immediate frustration and pain of stubbing their toe on the leg of a dining room chair with, “Oh my! I am in pain as I have just suddenly stubbed my toe oh-so-clumsily on this unobtrusive, yet hard wooden object!”

Nope. For me, nothing feels better than saying, “fuckingsonofabitch!” and then following that with some additional profanity directed at Mr. DD who stupidly didn’t push the chair back under the table where it belongs. I don’t think I could express myself any clearer than that.

A Tale of Two Boobs

I have issues with my breasts. My first recollection of when “the girls” became something for me to obsess about was sometime around the age of 12. I was prepubescent and the only sex-education I had been exposed to was from the school sponsored programs where they separated the boys from the girls and we were addressed about the changes we would go through in medical speak-ease and adult jargon. So when I noticed the two small lumps on my chest during a personal exploration, I immediately freaked out. At the time, Google was just what boys did to girls, as in “making googlely eyes,” and my only source of info in the house I grew up in was an old set of encyclopedias, which I would actually page through for fun.

Without anything to research and/or rule out, I promptly diagnosed myself with breast c@ncer. I remember being in my room and stifling tears into my Rick Springfield pillow. I was going to be the youngest person to have ever died of breast c@ncer. I didn’t know how I was going to tell my parents the dire news without breaking their hearts. I eventually decided I would not want them to be burdened with the terrible diagnosis, so I told no one.

Obviously, my “c@ncer” resolved itself and the two little hard lumps turned into two small soft lumps that required nothing more than a t-shirt to keep hidden.

Fast forward 20+ years.

In 2000, I had a small windfall and made up my mind that I was going to have breast augmentation. I was tired of the only bras fitting me were the training bras out of the pre-teen section of the department stores. Mr. DD, who married me in spite of being a major boob-man, was surprisingly hesitant at my decision. The plastic surgeon was graphically clear that things can, and do, go wrong, as it is major surgery requiring general anesthesia. I was undeterred.

After a couple of consults and deciding on a rather conservative implant size, the procedure was done without any notable problems. I healed quickly and easily. I went from an A cup to a full B/small C. I thought my choice in size was almost too conservative until my pregnancy with X, which resulted in some very uncomfortably large boobs. By the time I finally finished breastfeeding, I was so thrilled I hadn’t gone larger. I find it ironic that my blog has been the found via searches with the following phrases: dd boobs; dd women; dd sex. I feel I should mention that my moniker “DD” has nothing to do with the size of my breasts…sorry, fellas.

I am not ashamed of my decision, but when I get asked about major surgeries during a medical history, I never include the augmentation amongst the tonsillectomy and caesarean section. I figure there’s enough info obtained from those two procedures that including the plastic surgery seems redundant.

I’m posting about my girls because last night I noticed a clear discharge from both nipples. It was right before going to bed, and even though I was a little freaked out, I just wasn’t up to consulting either the encyclopedia or Google, so I pushed it out of my mind until this morning. My gut tells me that it’s probably due to the past few months of homonal stims and stress, but Google is hinting at a fibrocystic condition, which appeals more to my paranoid and hypochondrial psyche. I have left a message with my Perfect PA to see what her recommendations are.

Plus I figured so many posts were dedicated to the girly bits of the nether region, that it was due time that The Girls upstairs get some recognition as well, especially since they were nearly as expensive as the two IUIs.

“This site has been brought to you by the letters A, R, and T, and by the proud sponsor of Bigger Boobies.”

Friends...Minus the Rachel 'Do

Third time for this post...is a charm? We will see...

I have a friend that I haven't communicated with for several months. We live only a few hours apart from each other, but I think the growing separation between us is related more to emotional distance and not the physical. At one time we worked for the same employer and we even shared an apartment during a few months when Mr. DD and I were "on a break" (which actually led to our engagement). X and her first child were born within a few weeks of each other and a couple of years later she had her second.

It was after the birth of this 2nd child that things seem to have changed. I don't know if it's related to my discovered infertility or if we truly have just grown apart. In fact, we have not seen each other since right before my miscarriage over a year ago. We've talked only a couple of times in the past year and the last email I received from her that wasn't a FW:,FW:,FW: was late October. Actually it was a reply to an email we had sent about the progress of our house. In that email reply, she asked how the baby thing was coming. In response, I sent her my blog link. Based on my sitemeter, I know that she went to my blog once since then.

Let me be clear that this is not about me whining about a friend who doesn't read my blog. I already have a couple of other friends who do read this, and sometimes it's a little awkward having a conversation live about something they've already read on my blog. I feel like the elderly grandma who tells a story over and over because I can't remember that I told the same story the day before.

No, this is about someone who was once a close friend who read through a few posts back in November, and has not acknowledged me since. I received no Christmas card; no thank-you for the gifts I sent her children for Christmas; not a word - written or spoken.I can't help but wonder why. I mentioned to Mr. DD that I have a sneaking suspicion that in the time I haven't seen her, that she either has had another baby or is at the very least expecting her third and somehow, our own reproductive problems have created some type of rift in within our friendship.

My friends I see every day and who know about our problems are empathetic, and I try to not let it take over our conversations, even though I admit, it does. However, I have not felt as if our relationships have changed significantly from a year ago when the shit hit the proverbial fan.

Have any of you had friends who you felt in some ways, abandoned you when you went through some personal set-backs; or am I just experiencing the natural degeneration of a friendship not nurtured by frequent visits and phone calls? Should I make another attempt to contact her even though there was no reciprocation/acknowledgement of holiday cards and gifts; or is that petty? Maybe I sent her the wrong signal about where our friendship was by sending her my blog link instead of answering her personally. I just don't know anymore.

Testing Comments...

Just a post to test if the comments will work on this post as they don't seem to be on my last post...

Small Miracles

Just when I started wondering if miracles really do exist, I hear this story and just cry with relief, because it means that miracles can really happen for those who need it the most.

By the way, I am a strong believer in being a donor. If you are not one, please reconsider. Also, I hope to God you never have to make the choice of making that decision on a child's behalf, but if you do, I pray for the sake of another child, that you find that strenth inside of you to make the right choice.

Blogger is Pissing Me Off!

OK, fine! Blogger/Blogspot won't let me post anything HMTL. I don't know why and I don't know when they decided to do that as I know I have posted such things before (Remember the "What kind of Freaky Mother are you?" from Quizilla?). I had no problem with that.

But recently I have tried posting things that were HMTL text and I get a big fat no-fucking-way from Blogger.

Also, I hate the pink. I thought it would appeal to the feminine side of my readers (sorry, early presumptions) so I went with it, but frankly I hate it and now I don't know how to change it without losing some of my other custom stuff.

One last problem: below my Guestmap I tried posting a minipoll. Instead, when you clicked on what one would think was the minipoll, because that's what the g-damn thing looked like, you were sent to my map. Notice the goofy asterisk uner "bloglines"? That was going to be my bloglines made public so I wouldn't have the links, which was where I was going to put my acronym list I have been amassing these past months. Well, click on that asterisk and see what happens....(I'll wait)...yep! The stupid map! AAaaagh! So if any of you are closet computer geeks, please come to my rescue before I go midieval on my blogger's ass!

Curse you, Blogger!

Oh, The Possibilities

My appointment with the PA was anything BUT typical. What do you expect when you go to see your GYN? Yes, I said in an earlier post I was going to see my OB, but that’s rather presumptuous, don’t you think? And my OB is my GYN. And yes, there are actually still some of those about, especially here in the Midwest.

Normally, after making wee in a cup, nurse will weigh and measure, and do an abbreviated H&P (History & Physical) by taking bp, heart rate, sometimes even a temp. Then the Pro comes in, does a repeat of the preceding, and if he’s a GYN, perform a pelvic exam/PAP…right?

Uh…no. Everything up to the “Then the Pro comes in” was accurate. After that I received the Royal Treatment, and I mean that in the good way.

It was shortly after 4:00 pm when PA came in; after being informed that since it was the CD1 any smear taken from my pap would come back positive, we happily skipped that part. No speculum, no cold goo, and not one stirrup was exposed. Instead, she asked me how things were going and I just started bawling. “Not so good,” I was able to sniffle out. I proceeded to explain what Mr.DD and I had been doing over the past year with the help of my detailed Excel spreadsheet, which numbered my cycle days, the drugs/tests we had taken, and more impressively, was color coded (I may be lazy, but when I get a notion, I go full bore!). PA was duly impressed and exclaimed that she loved me.

I then explained that what we were really trying to do was decompress from the past few months’ exposure to infertility treatments, and hope that the luck I have had in the past with her might somehow see us through the next few months. I told her about the SA from the two IUIs and the IVF; I told her about the IVF and the chemical pregnancy that resulted; and I wanted to know what she thought we should do.

In a nutshell? She said to relax.

Now hold on. Keep your pitchforks on the wall, and snuff out your torches. She explained that when she did her rotation at the clinic we happen to be going to, she saw many times how couples would call and say they just need some time off and a couple months later they would call and say they weren’t coming back. They were pregnant. She qualified her statement by saying it didn’t happen all the time, but it does happen. And she has a point. We have had these recent examples of fellow bloggers get pregnant while between treatments. It happens to others. Is it probable for us? No. Is it possible? Sure, and right now it makes me happy to see the possibilities.

She said three or four months off should be enough for us, as she knows I am very stubborn determined. As for testing, she is fine with doing another FSH on CD3 if I want. Demeter also recommended I look into a CCCT (Clomephine Citrate {Clomid} Challenge Test). PA had heard of it, but would have to research it to recall the details. She also recommends that since Mr. DD hasn’t had a physical since…EVER, that he gets one soon as blood pressure and cholesterol can impact, though slightly, male fertility. She even hinted at how clomid can increase sperm count in some men, but it’s still controversial and hasn’t been proven to increase pregnancy rates.

Then…we talked. And talked. We talked about our jobs, our husbands, our boys (she has a little one who will be two in March), etc. My appointment was at 4:00. I left at 5:45. And it would’ve been later but I had a dinner date with Mr.DD and the in-laws. PA said to call or stop by anytime. And she meant it as she gave me hug before I stepped into the now dark lobby of the office since everyone else had left at 5:00.

This morning I called my RE and spoke to Dr. Blinksalot about a CCCT. She said if we were just starting out, and I hadn’t responded to any of the medication, she would do the test. But since they were testing my levels at different times of the cycle during the IUIs and IVF and that nothing appeared out of line, the CCCT wouldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know. She also said something that almost made me start crying all over again: she would never ask us to go through another IVF, or even donor sperm, just to get us to go through a treatment. She wants us to have a baby, and if that wasn’t even a possibility, she would tell me.

Again, the possibilities are there…it’s just a matter of time.