And another one bites the dust

So here's another cycle come and gone and no little parasite inside me to show for all that effort.

I'm angry that this is happening. I keep looking for reasons and answers as to what I can change, how I can fix this, and some clue that it is normal for this to happen. I'm not sure if this is related to the issues I've been having with my ovaries or if it stems from something else.

I know several women who have had fertility issues in the past, and several still going through them. Its not like this is all that uncommon, but still it is different to hear others talk of the frustration than actually experience it yourself. I admire those women even more than ever.

Michael has been my rock today since my cycle started over last night. I've been your typical weepy female, all goo-ing over every baby I see and holding Nugget to my chest like he's 3 months instead of 3 years old.

If I can just avoid that damned stereotypical statement of "it'll happen when it's supposed to happen" or "don't get discouraged, it will happen eventually" I think I'll be ok. I'm just so fucking tired of those useless platitudes. Especially from people that don't know what the hell they are talking about. Every person's story is different. Every person feels differently about fate, God, choices... So just keep what I am sure are well meaning statements behind your teeth, please I beg you.

In other news: I rode a bike today for the first time in forever. My thighs hurt a little and the feeling of whizzing around the park on a beautiful fall day made me feel like a kid again. It was totally what I needed today. Bliss...

The Good, the Bad, the OMFG

I have been a medical mystery for several months. It started as crampy feelings in my lower right abdominal area and our first thought was appendix. After running over to Doc-in-the-box I was told Nope, not appendix and sent home. That led me to my internist who said it was either an ulcer or possibly gallbladder disease. Gave me a script for Prilosec and sent me on my crampy way. This did not help, however and after many other fun medical tests include ultrasounds and about 10,000 needles I am still undiagnosed. My internist suggests it could be a OBGYN issue and sends me to see them. Here is where it gets fun.

We've been trying to have a baby for a while, although admittedly we *could* have tried harder. My cycles have been all messed up for months now, and it figure it is a combination of many factors: age, stress, and that fact that I've put on quite a few pounds in the last year or so. I've been upset about it, but never to the point where I think there is something HORRIBLY wrong with my girl parts...

So I head into the OB's office and she tells me it could be ovarian cysts which I have dealt with in the past. I go back for an ultrasound and low and behold there's one chillin' on my left (WTF?) ovary. It looks 99% normal except for a little spot on one of the edges that they don't know what it could be. So she tells me she's going to schedule me for a repeat U/S and have some blook work done to rule out ovarian cancer. Uh... what the fuck? Did she just say cancer?

So understandably I'm freaking the hell out. Even though I know that 95% of all cysts are begnin in nature, and even though I know that I've had these before - I am absolutely fucking freaking out. I did the stupidest thing possible yesterday, I googled ovarian cancer.

OH.MY.FUCKING.G-D.

This shit kills people, almost all of them that have it. So now I'm even more freaked out and curled up on my office floor in a little, fat ball. Why did I google? Why?

I'm a little better today, mostly because I think I've figured out that there's not much I can do but wait and hear back from the doctor's office. The shitty part is that that test is far from perfect (again - thanks google) and I'm not even sure I can trust the results when they do come in.

So all of you in Internet Land (all 3 of you that are reading this blog) please cross your fingers, toes, etc.. and pray to the deity or FSM of your choice that this thing is nothing and I will be ok.

Falling

I love summer. I love the sticky, humid heat we have here in the Deep South. I even love the way it makes my clothes stick to me when I'm outside making me feel like I need to take 3 or more showers in a day.

Summer is ending here, although it isn't a product of the season as much as a product of the massive drought we are facing here in South Carolina. I've noticed a multitude of trees and shrubs in the area surrounding our neighborhood that have shriveled up and turned a horrible shade of reddish black. Our lawn is barely alive, and Mike has loved the fact that he hasn't had to mow the grass more than 10 times this summer. Leaves have started falling, much earlier than normal due to the fact that the trees are so parched they can't hold onto their leaves.

Nugget and I went on a walk yesterday afternoon. It was a nice afternoon, warm and sunny. We noticed the leaves falling around us as we walked and he had a ton of questions about why trees lose leaves, why they change color, when do they grow back? He is so curious all the time and it me me laugh and shake my head when he asks the same question for the 10,000th time.

It really amazes me how fast his little mind spins, and the wonderfully bold way he asserts himself. This child has no idea the meaning of the word hesitate and doesn't care to learn.

We're still waiting on his new pair of glasses. He looks so different without them. I remember last November when he was first diagnosed I was concerned that he would look odd in glasses. I was afraid people would make fun of him, or he would be labeled in some way. But they've become such a part of him and the only comment we ever hear from others is how cute he looks in glasses. My favorites are the little old coupon grandmas in line at the grocery store who ask me if his glasses are 'real.' As if I would go through the torture of having to deal with sticky fingerprints on lenses, $300 frames he'll outgrow in a year, and the never ending chorus of "Put your glasses on your face" all day long just so my child would look studious?!?

Here is some sans-glasses cuteness from yesterday afternoon:

9 to 5

One of my favorite bloggers has posted a few entries recently about finding yourself and your dream in what you do for a living. I've found myself focusing on this subject quite a few times in the last few months. Probably because we're finally stable financially, and wanting to grow our family of 3 to a family of 4. The idea of change in the job department is staggeringly scary to me.

My job is a lot of things to me. An escape from the boredom of being at home all day, every day. A place where I get to try out new toys and software and constantly learn new things. Something I'm pretty damn good at, if I ask myself. I have the opportunity to travel a bit, meet interesting clients and learn the minute details of a whole lot shit I would never have cared about before. Ask me how carpet fibers are woven. (I dare you to ask me) After a 3 week trial on that subject I could pen a fucking thesis on weaves and texture of the average plush rug in your living room.

The problem lies in that I've been with the same law firm for 6 years now, and while I've never say I've learned all I can learn - it is getting a bit stale. I'm getting tired of the politics and drama surrounding the people that I work with. They are mostly lawyers after all, and are sometimes at the emotional maturity level of your average 3rd grader.

What I really crave is something more... just more. I want to be trusted more by my managers. I want to have more input into daily decisions and be able to venture out on a limb from time to time without it becoming a grand production involving a priest, a rabbi and my OBGYN.

I'm not planning on going anywhere right now (Note for anyone from my office who happens to be reading this) but one day, in a few years, I want to set my own schedule, choose my own projects and be my own boss. I know that is probably years down the road, but it is something to dream towards.



On a side note - Nugget broke his glasses in a bad way and is now sans glasses while we wait for a new pair. He looks SO DAMN WEIRD without them.

Let's get it on

I'm ready to start seriously trying again to get pregnant. I haven't quite communicated this to my husband, but I'm sure he's up for the challenge. I'm going to the OB tomorrow to discuss some issues we've been having and see if we can work on getting this baby making business straightened out.

The idea of adding another child to our mix is equally exhilarating and terrifying. Things are pretty darn good with Me, Mike and Nugget and I'm not sure how having another baby will tip the balance. I've been assured by everyone I know with more than one child that things WILL be manageable, we WILL love the second child as much as Nugget, it WILL make us a happier family in the long run.

I have to be honest and say that I am very nervous about being pregnant and going through a C-Section again. I've had a lot of health problems in the last year or so, mostly relating to my heart and some odd phantom pain in my right side that no doctor can accurately diagnose. I lie awake at night worrying that getting pregnant again will stress my heart too much and I'll get really ill, or that I'll go into arrest during delivery, or something else unforeseen and probably not terribly likely to happen. I'll vow in the dead of night that I won't take that chance, I won't try this month.

But then my child will do something to remind me exactly why I want to have another baby in the first place: he'll run into our backyard after I've picked him up from school and play in a quiet, lonely way that reminds me that another child is not only a baby for Mommy, but a sibling and playmate for him. He needs a sibling; someone to share toys and insults with, someone to whisper under the covers at night when they should be sleeping. He needs more than just me and Mike.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Mommy needs a Valium

Let me preface this post with the fact that I love my child, very very much. With that said, this past weekend was one of those instances where I wanted to run naked through the house screaming "Can we put him back in?" at the top of my lungs.

He whines. He screams. He wants to eat nothing but fruit snacks and watch the awesome insipidness of Mickey Mouse clubhouse and Sponge Bob. Oh, how I hate Cartoon network somedays.

In all fairness, he's sick. I know, I know this now puts my Mommy of the Year award points to -142, but there are few things less fun than staying stuck in the house for 2 days with a cranky, pukey 3 and half year old.

EXCEPT, I am still feeling rather craptasitc myself from the never-ending medical mystery and still winding down from the craziness of trial and such at work. So I'm really not doing much this weekend either. But at least I'm not whiny, snotty or pukey.

I was bad. I left Mike at home with the kid for a few hours on Saturday night while I went to celebrate with some girlfriends who were getting married and having a baby. Not the same person, and not in that order - for the record.

And it was bliss, let me tell ya. 6 lovely pomegranate martinis and chocolate fondue do wonders to erase the pounding headache that spending all day with a 35lb feverish demon child will give you. I almost felt bad. Almost.

And for the record Nugget is feeling better now, though you'd never know it to hear him whine. This morning was a rush to get him up for school, protesting all the way. He has no fever and he is no longer pukey and the rash has begun to fade. Sounds school worthy to me. But he in his oh-so-clever way, has figured out that by acting sick he gets to kind of do whatever he wants. Manipulative little bastard. I heard many choruses of "I'm sick" driving all the way to school, but once he figured out it is a special exercise day at school - all of a sudden, he is fine and dandy.

Godknows I love that child. I do. And I am sooo happy he is feeling better. There is no more helpless feeling in the world than watching my child as he lay, with his over-warm body pressed against my chest, breathing much too rapidly and knowing that all I can do is wait for this to run it's course. I bitch and moan about what a whiny jerk he is when he is sick, but at the same time am both grateful that it is nothing worse than a virus and amazed at the wondrous ability of the human body to heal itself. What a marvelous creature my son truly is.

At home

I've spent the better part of the last 3 hours sitting on my screened porch in my back yard listening to the sounds of summer in a neighborhood. Having never grown up around neighbors, it always strikes me how loud and personal living in close quarters with others can be. The drone of the lawn mowers across several streets, hitting tree roots and rocks that ping with sharp force against the blades. The accompanying howl of the neighborhood dogs as a fire engine goes racing by the entrance to the subdivision. The sound of my child laughing as he climbs the fence between our house and his best friend's house, knowing that I've told him 10,000 times not to climb that fence.

These are the reasons that we live here. We have a wonderful house, in a great and desirable location. It is immensely liveable with cool shade trees, smooth grass and a house older than I am. Sitting on this porch I think of all the memories made in this yard, on this porch with all those who lived here before us. And I think of all the memories yet to come, the ones we haven't made yet and the ones I am making right now.

How sweet it is to be me.