Today I am starting over. I’m pushing CD 40 with AF not in sight. So I took matters into my own hands and called The Moonster’s office and spoke with a nurse. I told her I was tired of waiting and had gone months before without a period–I didn’t want to wait anymore. Did some blood work and of course, the HCG was negative. I knew it would be, yet there’s always that slim sliver of hope that a miracle occurred and somehow, someway I would be pregnant. Nada.
So today is day one of Provera. It’s ok, it’s ok, I keep telling myself. Once I start my period, I am to call The Moonster and schedule my hsg. Last time I got pregnant right away, so I’m hoping it happens again. Otherwise, we’re onto Clomid and insemination. *Sigh*
I can consider myself lucky after talking to Nicole tonight. She went to her doctor (we don’t have the same one!) and he told her to lose 5-10 pounds and see how that goes! I thought, “What the eff?” She’s not overweight! Sure, she’s gained 10 pounds (per her self statement, otherwise I wouldn’t have known) but come on! He said that may be throwing her cycles off and since it hasn’t been a full year since her last miscarriage, he wasn’t really going to “push it”. What a douche bag. I’m glad he’s not my doctor, because he wouldn’t be anymore.
Nicole’s in the same boat I am. One kiddo, lots of struggling for a second pregnancy, pregnancy ended in miscarriage, and now there’s no ovulation. What is it with this secondary infertility crap? Our little girls are a few months apart and are in the same preschool and dance class–they are so cute!
So tonight at dance class, while we are waiting in the “sitting area”, a girl comes in–very pregnant, and I recognize her instantly. I couldn’t stand her in high school. Skank! I don’t care that it’s been over 10 years, but this little biz-natch used to stand with her other skanky friends up against the fence at football games and terrorize me. Or try to, I should say. The track surrounds the football field and we cheerleaders stood on the track. I was in the front row, so pretty close to the fence, and she and her skankilicious friends would stand there and stare at me, yell at me, call me “whore”, “slut”, “bitch” and whatever creative name their 10th grade strung out brains could think of. All because of a boy. A boy that I dated and they wanted. So stupid.
Anyhow, so I haven’t seen this girl for well over 10 years and she comes waddling in tonight and I had flashbacks of her being such a bitch. Three little girls in tow, and dang, they were cute. Must resemble their daddy, because time has done the skank no justice. And…ta da! Pregnant with her fourth baby. She’s younger than me and has almost four kids. What the hell is wrong with this picture? Never finished school. So now I am even more determined we WILL have another baby.
I am also happy to report her mustache has not gone away. It has, in fact, enhanced her manliness even more. Ha!
Which leads me to a completely different story, but one I HAVE to share, nonetheless. This is a life lesson to not act like you know what someone is saying when you really have no idea. I call this “Meijer’s Limp Noodle
I’ll set the scene:
Drama Queen in the cart, I’m pushing it, and Big Daddy is walking beside us. As soon as we are past the entrance, this elderly fellow practically jumps out at us from the deli section. I about crap myself.
The very first thing he says to us is, “You will have three or more children”. I’m thinking, “What the hell?!” Josh is smiling and playing nice with the old fellow. “You’re a very blessed man, very blessed. Yes you are!”
Then he continues, “I can tell you why. You don’t smoke. You know how I know you don’t smoke?”, all the while pointing at Josh and grinning.
He then says something I can’t understand and makes a motion with his finger. I just chuckle, never really hearing what he said. He then moves on to me and says, “Just look at her! Her eyes are so energetic!” Josh is kinda laughing at this point, although I am sensing an urgency of “get the eff out of here, right now!” permeating from him.
I am trying to steer the cart away, seriously, I was trying, when a Meijer’s employee came over to us, handed Drama Queen a penny, and told her it was for the pony ride. At that point, the old coot starts singing a song about riding a pony and we make a run for it. He was an odd fellow, but it wasn’t until hours later that I realized how odd.
While sitting down to eat, Big Daddy mentioned again how weird the old dude was and said, “I still can’t believe he said that!” I asked what he meant and he said, “Didn’t you hear him? You just started laughing! I couldn’t believe that!”
Turns out the old coot told Big Daddy he knew he didn’t smoke because–wait for it—wait for it—“HE DIDN’T HAVE A LIMP NOODLE“!!! So the finger gesture I witnessed was apparently his version of a limp dick and I totally missed it! So there I stupidly stood, laughing naively, with this creepy old dude who probably had a sagging nutsack to his knees, and had no idea what he had truly said. OMG.
So that, my friends, is a lesson. I about choked on my salad when I realized this!
Just to prove I’m really not the biggest bitch in the world, I learned Hendo’s wife is pregnant. I am truly happy for them! She had a miscarriage last year. Went in for the 12 week ultrasound and the tech said, “You’re about 8 weeks, right?” Wrong. Poor Meghan. Poor Hendo. She opted for a D & C the very next day and they’ve tried ever since–for the past year. As hard as it has been for us, and our loss, and our struggle with infertility–I’ve always prayed for Meghan. She’s a labor and delivery nurse. So every day, she helps bring beautiful babies in this world and every day she was faced with the one thing she wanted more than anything.
I feel kinda special–I know–but no one else does! This time they’re waiting until they see a healthy baby on that screen before announcing to everyone. I can totally understand. If we get pregnant again, we’re not telling a soul. It’ll be between Big Daddy and me until the end of the first trimester, at the very least. I really don’t know if I’ll tell anyone after that, for fear of something happening all over again. I suppose when I’ll be busting out of my scrubs people will notice, but until then…it will be our little secret.
It’s hard, you know? To be left out. To be the odd one. To be the person that no one else wants to be. I’m “that” girl.
I do, however, have something not a lot of other people have. I have the ultimate husband. Seriously. My best friend, my soul mate, my heart. Willing to stand beside me, willing to hold me up, and support me, no matter what we go through. Is this a hard time in our lives? You bet your ass it is. Will we make it? Doubly bet your ass.
I know, without a single thread of doubt, that Big Daddy backs me up 5000 percent. No matter if he agrees or disagrees, he is my rock. He puts our family first, above all else. Doesn’t let stupid things get in the way of his priorities, be it games or sports or “guy” things…he is home, every night, with us. He lets us know, all the time, how much he loves us. He has sacrificed so much for us and asks for nothing in return. He gets up in the middle of the night and strips sheets that have been peed on (thanks DQ!), he wears purple nail polish courtesy of our daughter, suffers through a room full of stage moms just to watch DQ tap around in her tutu for 5 minutes, cleans our house, cooks our meals, and just plain LOVES us.
I believe God gave me Big Daddy to make up for the years before I knew him. To offer me this extra protection for the years I had none. To hold me up when I want to give up. To love me like I’ve never been loved. To give me the sense of security and home I never experienced.
So if we aren’t able to have any more children, then we won’t. We have Drama Queen, and for that we are eternally thankful. And we have each other. We have each other by choice, not trapped in some marriage because it looks good, or because it’s for the “kids”, or because there’s nowhere else to go.
Day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year…we are in it together.