Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Limerick Fun
So Kev and I were IMing each other tonight (sitting all of like, three feet away from each other) and he asked me if I wanted to hear a limerick. The following gems proceeded:
By Kevin
There once was a pie from Seattle,
who thought that each schooday was a battle.
So she told off her boss,
then gave that job a toss.
And now she stays home with the flabble.
Never give poo to a doofus.
Especially if he's a half-wit named Rufus.
You'll find in due time
that his drool will unwind,
and then you will have to call him Poofus.
There was a lonely can of potted meat,
who no one wanted to eat.
So he sat and got dusty,
and his scent it got musty.
And he smelled like a piggy in heat.
There are six rabbits in a warren.
When there were only two it was borin'.
So the rabbits had sex,
then out came the kets.
Now it's a blast even if it's pourin'
By Chris
There once was a Boynana named Fuzzy,
who was sitting down writin' because he
had a fabulous mind,
and needed to unwind -
because his hot wife was a huzzy.
There once was a man from Kentucky,
who found out he couldn't get lucky.
So he pulled off his pecker,
and said "t'hell with Hector -
I'll get boobies and be called Mama Ducky."
Anybody want to publish us? We're cheap.
By Kevin
There once was a pie from Seattle,
who thought that each schooday was a battle.
So she told off her boss,
then gave that job a toss.
And now she stays home with the flabble.
Never give poo to a doofus.
Especially if he's a half-wit named Rufus.
You'll find in due time
that his drool will unwind,
and then you will have to call him Poofus.
There was a lonely can of potted meat,
who no one wanted to eat.
So he sat and got dusty,
and his scent it got musty.
And he smelled like a piggy in heat.
There are six rabbits in a warren.
When there were only two it was borin'.
So the rabbits had sex,
then out came the kets.
Now it's a blast even if it's pourin'
By Chris
There once was a Boynana named Fuzzy,
who was sitting down writin' because he
had a fabulous mind,
and needed to unwind -
because his hot wife was a huzzy.
There once was a man from Kentucky,
who found out he couldn't get lucky.
So he pulled off his pecker,
and said "t'hell with Hector -
I'll get boobies and be called Mama Ducky."
Anybody want to publish us? We're cheap.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
If I had a classroom that was truly my own . . .
So I've been thinking about this a lot this year. I was hoping I'd be able to have more or less my own classroom, or at least the half I was in charge of, but it was not to be. I understand that things don't work out sometimes, and I've turned in my notice as a large part of feeling totally unappreciated and stifled creativity-wise. Oh well. It's been disappointing but a good experience nonetheless.
As I was hoping this would be my first "real year" as a "real teacher," I've started playing with ideas in my head as to what I would want my classroom to look and feel like. Maybe this is truly just a "what if" exercise, but I feel it important, somehow, to put down my thoughts.
There was a school in Federal Way that I adored - it was totally different from the "norm," but the lessons were challenging and the students were uber-engaged while we were there. Some things I loved about the classroom were the following:
It didn't look like a typical classroom. There were reading areas and hands-on areas of the classroom, with activities out to be used and manipulated. The reading areas had couches with slip covers and a small "tree house"-like area for students to climb inside of and relax and read. I would love to set up a corner of my room like that, and have areas that students could retire to when they have free time to work on projects or puzzles or other quiet things. I don't think kids get to use their hands enough in different ways in school.
Now, for my students' desks, I would like to try having a circle around the room so we can all see each other at all times. This might make doing presentations a bit difficult but that could be worked around. But this way, I could keep an eye on everything that's going on, and easily see if other people have questions or need my help with something.
We would have living things in the classroom. Nothing with fur. :) But fish, definitely. And possibly some kind of reptile, depending on what it is and where it could be stored.
Morning work would consist of 3 worksheets - a math/problem solving sheet, a spelling/handwriting sheet, and some kind of reading comp/word ladder kind of sheet. That's IT. It drives me crazy for students to be doing worksheet after worksheet all morning.
We would have monthly community service projects, and a class newsletter that the kids would put together once every other week to keep parents engaged in what was going on and help kids develop conversational writing skills.
As far as environment - we'd have two big bulletin-type boards in the classroom with student work and achievements, and also places around the room to put up new vocabulary words, spelling words, and a place for the quote of the week that the students would have to write a couple of paragraphs interpreting and applying to their lives each week. Once a month, they'd make up their own to have someone else interpret and apply.
Most classes would be run normally, but with music, art, and physical activity built into the lesson plans whenever it made sense to do so. And we'd definitely have hands-on time with science, as well as social studies. :)
Something else I liked about the school in Federal Way - the lights weren't flourescent lights. There were lamps, and natural light, and even white Christmas lights all around. It was a bit darker than a normal schoolroom but in a restful way. Without the harsh glare, it looked more like a living room area, but in a professional way. It was really quite remarkable.
So yeah - that's my ideal setting. It's good to dream. And now Kev's staring at me expectantly, so I'm going to close. *laugh*
As I was hoping this would be my first "real year" as a "real teacher," I've started playing with ideas in my head as to what I would want my classroom to look and feel like. Maybe this is truly just a "what if" exercise, but I feel it important, somehow, to put down my thoughts.
There was a school in Federal Way that I adored - it was totally different from the "norm," but the lessons were challenging and the students were uber-engaged while we were there. Some things I loved about the classroom were the following:
It didn't look like a typical classroom. There were reading areas and hands-on areas of the classroom, with activities out to be used and manipulated. The reading areas had couches with slip covers and a small "tree house"-like area for students to climb inside of and relax and read. I would love to set up a corner of my room like that, and have areas that students could retire to when they have free time to work on projects or puzzles or other quiet things. I don't think kids get to use their hands enough in different ways in school.
Now, for my students' desks, I would like to try having a circle around the room so we can all see each other at all times. This might make doing presentations a bit difficult but that could be worked around. But this way, I could keep an eye on everything that's going on, and easily see if other people have questions or need my help with something.
We would have living things in the classroom. Nothing with fur. :) But fish, definitely. And possibly some kind of reptile, depending on what it is and where it could be stored.
Morning work would consist of 3 worksheets - a math/problem solving sheet, a spelling/handwriting sheet, and some kind of reading comp/word ladder kind of sheet. That's IT. It drives me crazy for students to be doing worksheet after worksheet all morning.
We would have monthly community service projects, and a class newsletter that the kids would put together once every other week to keep parents engaged in what was going on and help kids develop conversational writing skills.
As far as environment - we'd have two big bulletin-type boards in the classroom with student work and achievements, and also places around the room to put up new vocabulary words, spelling words, and a place for the quote of the week that the students would have to write a couple of paragraphs interpreting and applying to their lives each week. Once a month, they'd make up their own to have someone else interpret and apply.
Most classes would be run normally, but with music, art, and physical activity built into the lesson plans whenever it made sense to do so. And we'd definitely have hands-on time with science, as well as social studies. :)
Something else I liked about the school in Federal Way - the lights weren't flourescent lights. There were lamps, and natural light, and even white Christmas lights all around. It was a bit darker than a normal schoolroom but in a restful way. Without the harsh glare, it looked more like a living room area, but in a professional way. It was really quite remarkable.
So yeah - that's my ideal setting. It's good to dream. And now Kev's staring at me expectantly, so I'm going to close. *laugh*
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Oh my goodness.
I can't believe it happened.
I'm PREGNANT!!!!
So let's back up a bit. I should probably put the whole ordeal down so I can remember it as one of those "you wouldn't believe what Mommy and Daddy were thinking" stories.
So Kev and I had invitro #2 scheduled for September 11, 2008 (yes, I noticed the date as well). We already had five beautiful little blastocysts who were in wonderful condition in their cozy little freezer, and the plan was to implant two of them this time since we wanted to give my chances a bit of a boost.
So commence the shots, the pills, the hormones . . . *laugh* Finally the 11th comes and (much to my boss' annoyance) we take the day off to have the transfer done. We get there and have an acupuncture treatment (which was actually pretty cool - I wasn't sure what to expect) and my bladder's almost full to bursting by the time it's done. I'm relaxed and happy and thrilled to not be hyperstiming like last time.
So the acupuncturist tells us the doctor wants to talk with us, and from what she's saying it just sounds like he wants to go over all the paperwork so we can get the transfer done. Fine, that's totally normal. We're ready.
Except.
He comes in and says that he doesn't know what to tell us . . . but they've thawed 4 of the five blastocysts so far. Two are dead. Two are barely hanging on for dear life. He says the chances are pretty much slim to none that they'll even implant, let alone be viable.
We were floored. How did we go from having five embryos where the lowest grade was a B (and most of them were in the A range!!!) to two dead and two at C- quality? He offered to go ahead and transfer them, and said he could also try to thaw the last one at this point and see what happened since there was basically no real chance all three would take. We told him to go ahead, and sobbed in each others' arms as he closed the curtain. We were angry, and scared, and I was ready to just put my clothes back on and go home. I didn't want to go through the "wait and see" feelings I'd had just a few months ago, this time with no real chance of success. I felt totally defeated.
So about 20 minutes later he comes back in and tells us he's thawed the last one. He says it's an A quality embryo. I didn't believe him. He said he'd taken pictures as proof. *laugh* Keep in mind that they generally thaw the ones with the best chance of survival first - so this was the runt of the litter, so to speak, but the only one with much of a chance after all was said and done. We decided to implant all three and go from there, though I hardly stopped crying until the acutal transfer took place and I saw how cute the little blastocysts were. *laugh* Yeah, I know. I'm a girl.
So fast forward a bit - I've told my school class about the invitro (which was probably not my best idea) so they're asking about it, but I'm really not feeling confident or even hopeful that things worked out this time. It feels like last time, only now the chances of the one viable blastocyst are even slimmer, so I ready myself for a negative. The next 9 days go by without much of anything - I start feeling a little bit like I'm getting ready for my period, but I have no real "pregnancy" feelings and the symptoms I am having are so light that I'm sure it's just my body getting ready to start menstruation. I even told my kids not to get their hopes up since I really felt absolutely nothing that I was told I could expect to.
Kev, on the other hand, is a mess. He's constantly worried and anxious, which makes me feel terrible because I feel like it's going to be another let down for him when the tests are negative (and another failure on my part). Two days before we're supposed to go in to have my hCG levels tested, he announces that he wants to have me take a pregnancy test.
This was after work, so not even the first-morning urine was going to be in our favor. I told him I'd take it, but he was going to have to realize that it was VERY likely going to be negative.
He said he was ready. So I took it.
We waited for a minute or so afterward and whadda ya know - I see no second line. So I head out to the kitchen to get it cleaned up for dinner and try to take my mind off of things. About 10 minutes later, Kev goes back into the bathroom and I hear his voice say "Chris? Come here."
"What?" I ask. "Do you see something?" (this was said with much doubt in my voice)
"I don't know. Just come here."
So I go in there and sure enough, there's a very, VERY faint second line. I didn't know what to say, or what to think. I just stared at it and told Kev "Yeah, there's definitely something there. I see it too." We very lightly tread on the topic that I might be pregnant (keep in mind, I'm just barely starting to think it's possible) and decide to test again the next morning, first thing.
The next morning (a Friday) comes and Kev looks for the second test that he's sure is under our sink.
No test.
So at 6:30 a.m., my dear sweet husband goes to the grocery store and buys TWO more BOXES of tests. I patiently wait and hold my bladder as best I can.
So the second round of tests are done (we do two more this time, of different brands), and we wait breathlessly for the results. I'm still sitting on the toilet at first, until I realize I should probably get washed up either way. *laugh* But I can't take my eyes off the tests, and by the time my hands are washed and things are put back on as they should be, I'm ready to see that dang little hourglass tell me SOMETHING. (I was looking at a digital test. Kev was looking at one that wasn't)
When it flashed "Pregnant," I squealed. Actually, I squee'd, which is higher pitched and often louder, then clamped a hand over my mouth as I realized it was still like 6:50 a.m. and our neighbors were not going to appreciate us waking them up. Kev's test also had a faint second line - definitely faint, but definitely there - and we proceeded to take the day off from work to celebrate (take that, Boss lady).
We took another three tests the next day before we went in for my blood draw and as they all read positive, we were on top of the world.
So that's mostly it. There have been some worries and scares so far (the first 10-12 weeks are pretty scary as far as miscarriage chances go), but I'm happy to report that we had two hCG tests and the scores went from 56.4 (pretty good) to 169 (VERY good) in three days. We also had our first ultrasound done this morning (was supposed to be Monday, but I freaked out when I saw blood in my underwear yesterday and the doctor was nice enough to let us come in today to make sure things are ok) and got to see the heartbeat! Kev was tearing up and I had such a thrill go through my body as I watched the flashing that I felt I could sit there for hours and just watch. The baby's heartbeat is 97 beats per minute (which is perfect, the doctor said), and the blood looks like it was just from my placenta growing and probably pushing through a blood vessel.
I can hardly believe it. I'm so afraid to be too excited yet, but I can't help it to a large extent. We're hopeful and I go back in two more weeks from Monday to have my next ultrasound. :D
I'm PREGNANT!!!!
So let's back up a bit. I should probably put the whole ordeal down so I can remember it as one of those "you wouldn't believe what Mommy and Daddy were thinking" stories.
So Kev and I had invitro #2 scheduled for September 11, 2008 (yes, I noticed the date as well). We already had five beautiful little blastocysts who were in wonderful condition in their cozy little freezer, and the plan was to implant two of them this time since we wanted to give my chances a bit of a boost.
So commence the shots, the pills, the hormones . . . *laugh* Finally the 11th comes and (much to my boss' annoyance) we take the day off to have the transfer done. We get there and have an acupuncture treatment (which was actually pretty cool - I wasn't sure what to expect) and my bladder's almost full to bursting by the time it's done. I'm relaxed and happy and thrilled to not be hyperstiming like last time.
So the acupuncturist tells us the doctor wants to talk with us, and from what she's saying it just sounds like he wants to go over all the paperwork so we can get the transfer done. Fine, that's totally normal. We're ready.
Except.
He comes in and says that he doesn't know what to tell us . . . but they've thawed 4 of the five blastocysts so far. Two are dead. Two are barely hanging on for dear life. He says the chances are pretty much slim to none that they'll even implant, let alone be viable.
We were floored. How did we go from having five embryos where the lowest grade was a B (and most of them were in the A range!!!) to two dead and two at C- quality? He offered to go ahead and transfer them, and said he could also try to thaw the last one at this point and see what happened since there was basically no real chance all three would take. We told him to go ahead, and sobbed in each others' arms as he closed the curtain. We were angry, and scared, and I was ready to just put my clothes back on and go home. I didn't want to go through the "wait and see" feelings I'd had just a few months ago, this time with no real chance of success. I felt totally defeated.
So about 20 minutes later he comes back in and tells us he's thawed the last one. He says it's an A quality embryo. I didn't believe him. He said he'd taken pictures as proof. *laugh* Keep in mind that they generally thaw the ones with the best chance of survival first - so this was the runt of the litter, so to speak, but the only one with much of a chance after all was said and done. We decided to implant all three and go from there, though I hardly stopped crying until the acutal transfer took place and I saw how cute the little blastocysts were. *laugh* Yeah, I know. I'm a girl.
So fast forward a bit - I've told my school class about the invitro (which was probably not my best idea) so they're asking about it, but I'm really not feeling confident or even hopeful that things worked out this time. It feels like last time, only now the chances of the one viable blastocyst are even slimmer, so I ready myself for a negative. The next 9 days go by without much of anything - I start feeling a little bit like I'm getting ready for my period, but I have no real "pregnancy" feelings and the symptoms I am having are so light that I'm sure it's just my body getting ready to start menstruation. I even told my kids not to get their hopes up since I really felt absolutely nothing that I was told I could expect to.
Kev, on the other hand, is a mess. He's constantly worried and anxious, which makes me feel terrible because I feel like it's going to be another let down for him when the tests are negative (and another failure on my part). Two days before we're supposed to go in to have my hCG levels tested, he announces that he wants to have me take a pregnancy test.
This was after work, so not even the first-morning urine was going to be in our favor. I told him I'd take it, but he was going to have to realize that it was VERY likely going to be negative.
He said he was ready. So I took it.
We waited for a minute or so afterward and whadda ya know - I see no second line. So I head out to the kitchen to get it cleaned up for dinner and try to take my mind off of things. About 10 minutes later, Kev goes back into the bathroom and I hear his voice say "Chris? Come here."
"What?" I ask. "Do you see something?" (this was said with much doubt in my voice)
"I don't know. Just come here."
So I go in there and sure enough, there's a very, VERY faint second line. I didn't know what to say, or what to think. I just stared at it and told Kev "Yeah, there's definitely something there. I see it too." We very lightly tread on the topic that I might be pregnant (keep in mind, I'm just barely starting to think it's possible) and decide to test again the next morning, first thing.
The next morning (a Friday) comes and Kev looks for the second test that he's sure is under our sink.
No test.
So at 6:30 a.m., my dear sweet husband goes to the grocery store and buys TWO more BOXES of tests. I patiently wait and hold my bladder as best I can.
So the second round of tests are done (we do two more this time, of different brands), and we wait breathlessly for the results. I'm still sitting on the toilet at first, until I realize I should probably get washed up either way. *laugh* But I can't take my eyes off the tests, and by the time my hands are washed and things are put back on as they should be, I'm ready to see that dang little hourglass tell me SOMETHING. (I was looking at a digital test. Kev was looking at one that wasn't)
When it flashed "Pregnant," I squealed. Actually, I squee'd, which is higher pitched and often louder, then clamped a hand over my mouth as I realized it was still like 6:50 a.m. and our neighbors were not going to appreciate us waking them up. Kev's test also had a faint second line - definitely faint, but definitely there - and we proceeded to take the day off from work to celebrate (take that, Boss lady).
We took another three tests the next day before we went in for my blood draw and as they all read positive, we were on top of the world.
So that's mostly it. There have been some worries and scares so far (the first 10-12 weeks are pretty scary as far as miscarriage chances go), but I'm happy to report that we had two hCG tests and the scores went from 56.4 (pretty good) to 169 (VERY good) in three days. We also had our first ultrasound done this morning (was supposed to be Monday, but I freaked out when I saw blood in my underwear yesterday and the doctor was nice enough to let us come in today to make sure things are ok) and got to see the heartbeat! Kev was tearing up and I had such a thrill go through my body as I watched the flashing that I felt I could sit there for hours and just watch. The baby's heartbeat is 97 beats per minute (which is perfect, the doctor said), and the blood looks like it was just from my placenta growing and probably pushing through a blood vessel.
I can hardly believe it. I'm so afraid to be too excited yet, but I can't help it to a large extent. We're hopeful and I go back in two more weeks from Monday to have my next ultrasound. :D
Friday, September 12, 2008
Each Life Has Its Place ...
Listened to "Virginia Woolf" by the Indigo Girls yesterday before our IVF transfer and was amazed, as I am every time, at how this song speaks to me and touches my heart. It's one of those I could listen to all day and not get tired of.
It's long, so I'll condense it a bit.
Lyrics:
some will strut and some will fret
see this an hour on the stage
others will not but they'll sweat
in their hopelessness and their rage
we're all the same the men of anger
and the women of the page
they published your diary
and that's how i got to know you
the key to the room of your own and a mind without end
and here's a young girl
on a kind of a telephone line through time
and the voice at the other end comes like a long lost friend
Chorus:
so i know i'm all right
life will come and life will go
still i feel it's all right
cause i just got a letter to my soul
and when my whole life is on the tip of my tongue
empty pages for the no longer young
the apathy of time laughs in my face
you say "each life has its place"
(another verse here and chorus)
the place where you hold me
dark in a pocket of truth
the moon had swallowed the sun and the light of the earth
and so it was for you
when the river eclipsed your life
and sent your soul like a message in a bottle to me
and it was my rebirth
so we know we're all right
though life will come and life will go
still you'll feel it's all right
someone'll will get a letter to your soul
then you know you're all right
(various beautiful harmonious lines here)
and it's all right...
It's long, so I'll condense it a bit.
Lyrics:
some will strut and some will fret
see this an hour on the stage
others will not but they'll sweat
in their hopelessness and their rage
we're all the same the men of anger
and the women of the page
they published your diary
and that's how i got to know you
the key to the room of your own and a mind without end
and here's a young girl
on a kind of a telephone line through time
and the voice at the other end comes like a long lost friend
Chorus:
so i know i'm all right
life will come and life will go
still i feel it's all right
cause i just got a letter to my soul
and when my whole life is on the tip of my tongue
empty pages for the no longer young
the apathy of time laughs in my face
you say "each life has its place"
(another verse here and chorus)
the place where you hold me
dark in a pocket of truth
the moon had swallowed the sun and the light of the earth
and so it was for you
when the river eclipsed your life
and sent your soul like a message in a bottle to me
and it was my rebirth
so we know we're all right
though life will come and life will go
still you'll feel it's all right
someone'll will get a letter to your soul
then you know you're all right
(various beautiful harmonious lines here)
and it's all right...
Please Read My Mind.
So I know I can't speak for everyone. Heck, I know I can't speak for anyone but myself. But I've been thinking for some time now and I wish some people just intuitively knew certain things about my fertility issues and the feelings I have about them.
Things I wish people could read my mind about:
1. I'm fragile. Like, REALLLLLY fragile. Two bummed adoptions and a failed IVF cycle in the space of a year make for a lot of really screwed up thought patterns about myself, my circumstances, and God. Please don't take it personally if I'm a little needy right now.
2. I seem cynical because I'm trying to protect myself. Please don't think I don't want to be pregnant because I seem to have little to no hope. I want to be pregnant more than anything right now, but it physically hurts to go through this process, and I am SO AFRAID of feeling like I've failed yet again.
3. I need to feel cared about for attributes other than my uterus' function, or lack thereof. Please continue to tell me about your day, your little annoyances, your excitements, and your own problems as though I'm not going through this. I need a sense of normalcy.
4. It's not your fault when I cry. You didn't "make" me cry. These are difficult issues for me and talking about them can be an emotional experience. My tears are a way of letting out some of that pressure. They start and stop randomly on their own (see the blog post on my most hated side effect of SSRIs), and sometimes something that didn't bring a quiver to my voice yesterday will today. It's okay.
5. I don't blame you for getting/being pregnant. *laugh* This one always gets me. If you get pregnant and are excited about it, why wouldn't you shout it to the world? I want to hear all the morning sickness stories and the first kick stories and the excitement and all the "new baby" stuff. Life is a miracle and as long as you want the baby, I couldn't be happier for you.
6. Please don't talk about how easy it is for you to get pregnant. I know this is easy to bring up with talking about #5, but in my warped mind it's a separate issue entirely and it rubs salt into the wound. Comments like "we just look at each other and I'm pregnant" or "we want to have a baby in about a year so I'll get pregnant in the next couple of months" cut deeply. I know that they shouldn't. But they do.
7. DO NOT TELL ME WE'LL BE LIKE JON AND KATE PLUS EIGHT. Seriously. I know you're trying to be funny, but it's not funny to me. It's incredibly irritating. It's only because I know you don't mean to irritate me that I don't tell you to shut. the. f*ck. up.
8. Ask me questions when you have them. Sure, some are uncomfortable. And sure, sometimes I may get a bit emotional. But the fact that you care enough to ask means a lot to me. I promise, if I get to a point where I don't want to talk, I'll tell you straight out (nicely, of course).
9. You don't have to say anything consoling. I mean, a well-placed "I'm here for you if you need to talk" always helps. But don't feel you have to tell me how sorry you are. You didn't do anything wrong. :) And please don't try to give me a pep talk with "have some faith" or "it only takes one" or "God works in mysterious ways." I know you say it because you don't know what to say. But it's really rather insensitive.
10. Help me be busy. No, don't feel you have to go out of your way to entertain me. But heck, if you want company to go grocery shopping, give me a call. Getting out of myself is incredibly helpful right now and doing things to help other people helps me feel like I do have SOME purpose to my life that I can fulfill. If I'm too tired or too depressed, I'll let you know. But most of the time, I'll be grateful for the company and fun.
Things I wish people could read my mind about:
1. I'm fragile. Like, REALLLLLY fragile. Two bummed adoptions and a failed IVF cycle in the space of a year make for a lot of really screwed up thought patterns about myself, my circumstances, and God. Please don't take it personally if I'm a little needy right now.
2. I seem cynical because I'm trying to protect myself. Please don't think I don't want to be pregnant because I seem to have little to no hope. I want to be pregnant more than anything right now, but it physically hurts to go through this process, and I am SO AFRAID of feeling like I've failed yet again.
3. I need to feel cared about for attributes other than my uterus' function, or lack thereof. Please continue to tell me about your day, your little annoyances, your excitements, and your own problems as though I'm not going through this. I need a sense of normalcy.
4. It's not your fault when I cry. You didn't "make" me cry. These are difficult issues for me and talking about them can be an emotional experience. My tears are a way of letting out some of that pressure. They start and stop randomly on their own (see the blog post on my most hated side effect of SSRIs), and sometimes something that didn't bring a quiver to my voice yesterday will today. It's okay.
5. I don't blame you for getting/being pregnant. *laugh* This one always gets me. If you get pregnant and are excited about it, why wouldn't you shout it to the world? I want to hear all the morning sickness stories and the first kick stories and the excitement and all the "new baby" stuff. Life is a miracle and as long as you want the baby, I couldn't be happier for you.
6. Please don't talk about how easy it is for you to get pregnant. I know this is easy to bring up with talking about #5, but in my warped mind it's a separate issue entirely and it rubs salt into the wound. Comments like "we just look at each other and I'm pregnant" or "we want to have a baby in about a year so I'll get pregnant in the next couple of months" cut deeply. I know that they shouldn't. But they do.
7. DO NOT TELL ME WE'LL BE LIKE JON AND KATE PLUS EIGHT. Seriously. I know you're trying to be funny, but it's not funny to me. It's incredibly irritating. It's only because I know you don't mean to irritate me that I don't tell you to shut. the. f*ck. up.
8. Ask me questions when you have them. Sure, some are uncomfortable. And sure, sometimes I may get a bit emotional. But the fact that you care enough to ask means a lot to me. I promise, if I get to a point where I don't want to talk, I'll tell you straight out (nicely, of course).
9. You don't have to say anything consoling. I mean, a well-placed "I'm here for you if you need to talk" always helps. But don't feel you have to tell me how sorry you are. You didn't do anything wrong. :) And please don't try to give me a pep talk with "have some faith" or "it only takes one" or "God works in mysterious ways." I know you say it because you don't know what to say. But it's really rather insensitive.
10. Help me be busy. No, don't feel you have to go out of your way to entertain me. But heck, if you want company to go grocery shopping, give me a call. Getting out of myself is incredibly helpful right now and doing things to help other people helps me feel like I do have SOME purpose to my life that I can fulfill. If I'm too tired or too depressed, I'll let you know. But most of the time, I'll be grateful for the company and fun.
Friday, January 4, 2008
I so need a life. *laugh*
"Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better to take things as they come along with patience and equanimity." - Carl Jung
I'm sick of sitting home. I'm sick of having nothing to do all day but play on the computer, watch TV or think. When I saw it as useful, a means to an end, it was one thing. But now it's just existing, and I don't do well with merely existing.
Found out last night that ***** (name is just ***** right now so there's no way to track this blog to her and thus to me) has been using drugs during her pregnancy. To what extent is unknown, but we've had it verified since then that not only has she had a stint in rehab in the past, but she was drinking during the first trimester of her pregnancy.
I don't get this girl. She breaks up with the guy she's engaged to because he won't go to the temple but she seemingly has no problem going out and doing drugs? The irony kills me. *sigh*
The thing that hurts the most is that she didn't even have the guts to tell me herself. I found it all out from another family member she lived with for a time, and had to have it confirmed through my dad and through her adoption case worker. Do I have "take advantage of me" stamped across my forehead or something? I'm starting to wonder.
Her case worker told ours that ***** is the least reliable of all the birth mothers she's currently working with, and that she has significant emotional and mental issues. My case worker told me that her life was chaos, and it likely would never stop if we adopted this baby and she knew where we were.
I feel like the bottom of the barrel right now. No kids biologically, and now two adoptions that have fallen through (well, technically this one hasn't fallen through YET, but like hell I'm just going to sit by and take more emotional abuse and chaos for who knows how many years from people I'm trying to help out just as much as they are me). I've been told I'm meant to be a mother by many people in different capacities - all the way from being type cast as a mom roles in theatre to friends telling me they see me as a mom to kids asking me if I'll adopt them should anything happen to their parents to receiving a patriarchial blessing that specifically mentions me being a mother and talks about my children in this life.
So what is WRONG with me?
Intellectually, I know nothing is. I'm at a good age, not too young and not too old. I have a college degree. I have a strong marriage, and I'm relatively healthy. We make enough money to get by, though we're not anywhere approaching rich. I have good friends, a good support structure in my family, and wonderful contacts to help me and my someday kids make it through all aspects of life.
But knowing all that doesn't get rid of the little voice in the back of my head, the one I banished over a year ago, that likes to come back at times like this just to laugh and say "see? I told you. You're *not* good enough."
The thing is, so much of my energy and heart have been into the mom and wife thing for the last few years that I don't even *know* what I want to do or be at this point. Pathetic much? I always swore I'd never be like those women who completely lost themselves in their wifely and motherly duties. And in a cynical sort of way, I guess I haven't lost myself in those things since I have no motherly duties to speak of. *wry smile* So I guess I only have myself to blame.
I miss my old life. I miss my old friends and neighbors. I miss the zest for life everyone's always associated with me. I'm starting to wake up in the morning and ask myself who the old fat lady is that's taking over my skin.
The problem is, I don't know exactly how to go about changing things. Maybe I'm having a mid-mid-life crisis. *laugh* I just know something's gotta give, and it's gotta be soon, because this ain't working the way it is right now.
I'm sick of sitting home. I'm sick of having nothing to do all day but play on the computer, watch TV or think. When I saw it as useful, a means to an end, it was one thing. But now it's just existing, and I don't do well with merely existing.
Found out last night that ***** (name is just ***** right now so there's no way to track this blog to her and thus to me) has been using drugs during her pregnancy. To what extent is unknown, but we've had it verified since then that not only has she had a stint in rehab in the past, but she was drinking during the first trimester of her pregnancy.
I don't get this girl. She breaks up with the guy she's engaged to because he won't go to the temple but she seemingly has no problem going out and doing drugs? The irony kills me. *sigh*
The thing that hurts the most is that she didn't even have the guts to tell me herself. I found it all out from another family member she lived with for a time, and had to have it confirmed through my dad and through her adoption case worker. Do I have "take advantage of me" stamped across my forehead or something? I'm starting to wonder.
Her case worker told ours that ***** is the least reliable of all the birth mothers she's currently working with, and that she has significant emotional and mental issues. My case worker told me that her life was chaos, and it likely would never stop if we adopted this baby and she knew where we were.
I feel like the bottom of the barrel right now. No kids biologically, and now two adoptions that have fallen through (well, technically this one hasn't fallen through YET, but like hell I'm just going to sit by and take more emotional abuse and chaos for who knows how many years from people I'm trying to help out just as much as they are me). I've been told I'm meant to be a mother by many people in different capacities - all the way from being type cast as a mom roles in theatre to friends telling me they see me as a mom to kids asking me if I'll adopt them should anything happen to their parents to receiving a patriarchial blessing that specifically mentions me being a mother and talks about my children in this life.
So what is WRONG with me?
Intellectually, I know nothing is. I'm at a good age, not too young and not too old. I have a college degree. I have a strong marriage, and I'm relatively healthy. We make enough money to get by, though we're not anywhere approaching rich. I have good friends, a good support structure in my family, and wonderful contacts to help me and my someday kids make it through all aspects of life.
But knowing all that doesn't get rid of the little voice in the back of my head, the one I banished over a year ago, that likes to come back at times like this just to laugh and say "see? I told you. You're *not* good enough."
The thing is, so much of my energy and heart have been into the mom and wife thing for the last few years that I don't even *know* what I want to do or be at this point. Pathetic much? I always swore I'd never be like those women who completely lost themselves in their wifely and motherly duties. And in a cynical sort of way, I guess I haven't lost myself in those things since I have no motherly duties to speak of. *wry smile* So I guess I only have myself to blame.
I miss my old life. I miss my old friends and neighbors. I miss the zest for life everyone's always associated with me. I'm starting to wake up in the morning and ask myself who the old fat lady is that's taking over my skin.
The problem is, I don't know exactly how to go about changing things. Maybe I'm having a mid-mid-life crisis. *laugh* I just know something's gotta give, and it's gotta be soon, because this ain't working the way it is right now.
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