A friend from an infertility support forum sent me this poem. I'm normally not one to make weepy posts but this captures perfectly the anguish that that spousal unit and I have been dealing with.
Just Those Few Weeks
For those few weeks
I had you to myself
And that seemed too short a time
to be changed so profoundly.
In those few weeks
I came to know you
and to love you
You came to trust me with your life.
Oh, what a life I had planned for you!
Just those few weeks
When I lost you.
I lost a lifetime of hopes,
plans, dreams and aspirations...
A slice of my future simply vanished overnight.
Just those few weeks
It wasn't enough time to convince others
how special and important you were.
How odd, a truly unique person has recently died
and no one is mourning the passing.
Just a mere few weeks
and no "normal" person would cry all night
over a tiny vanished baby,
or get depressed and withdrawn day after endless day.
No one would, so why am I?
You were just those few weeks my little one.
You darted in and out of my life too quickly.
But it seems that's all the time you needed
to make my life so much richer
and give me a small glimpse of eternity.
...Author Unknown
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Humph
I saw a clip of Bill Clinton stumping for his wife a couple of days ago. Bill usually tends towards eloquence, but the guy must be running on way too little sleep.
He was addressing Obama's campaign saying something negative about Hillary, and said something like:
"Apparently Mr. Obama thinks it's OK to pick on a girl."
I don't remember the exact wording other than he did call his wife a girl.
Huh? No, it's not OK to be mean to a 7 year old female. Is that really how a presidential candidate wants to represent herself? As a helpless child? Sheesh.
He was addressing Obama's campaign saying something negative about Hillary, and said something like:
"Apparently Mr. Obama thinks it's OK to pick on a girl."
I don't remember the exact wording other than he did call his wife a girl.
Huh? No, it's not OK to be mean to a 7 year old female. Is that really how a presidential candidate wants to represent herself? As a helpless child? Sheesh.
Monday, March 24, 2008
The Easter Miracle
A few years ago we did Easter brunch with my in-laws and my sister-in-law's in-laws. The spousal unit decided to sit his nephew on his lap and tell him the story of the Easter miracle.
He told of how, on Good Friday, the Easter Bunny laid an easter egg. The bunny sat vigilantly on that egg until Easter Sunday, when lo and behold the baby Jesus hatched from that sacred egg.
His nephew listened, wide eyed. The in-law-in-laws are churchgoing, stern folks, and were not amused. The rest of us got a good chuckle from it.
Hope you all had a lovely Easter yesterday. I'm going to pick up some sticky-yummy-sweet marked down Cadbury Creme Eggs today. Thanks Easter Bunny, bwak bwak!
He told of how, on Good Friday, the Easter Bunny laid an easter egg. The bunny sat vigilantly on that egg until Easter Sunday, when lo and behold the baby Jesus hatched from that sacred egg.
His nephew listened, wide eyed. The in-law-in-laws are churchgoing, stern folks, and were not amused. The rest of us got a good chuckle from it.
Hope you all had a lovely Easter yesterday. I'm going to pick up some sticky-yummy-sweet marked down Cadbury Creme Eggs today. Thanks Easter Bunny, bwak bwak!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Comic Relief
OK, I think after my last post you might need a laugh. I know I do.
I've decided to share my most embarassing moment ever with all my dear bloggies. This is a privelege to be cherished. The spousal unit once told this story among friends without my permission and got the cold shoulder for days.
About 5 years ago I got laid off. My company had been a startup, was purchased by a huge defense contractor and was subsequently run into the ground. I was one of many victims of their incompetence.
The weekend after the axe dropped we went down to New Mexico to visit family. We stayed with my mother-in-law. I'd made plans to have a night out with some girlfriends, and the spousal unit went out with his own friends that same evening.
I got TANKED. My friends did too. They were smart and got picked up/driven home by the men in their lives. I was too drunk and full of self-pity to be that responsible and drove home. Luckily the story continues and does not involve me heading to jail.
Back at my mother-in-law's, I was fumbling to dress for bed. Where in the hell is that pajama top! Ah who cares, I don't need it, I slurred to myself and crawled into bed.
The next morning, I awoke with a pounding headache and a suspicion that I had done something incredibly embarassing. Must have been a bad dream. I rose, found the missing pajama top on the floor, and fell back into bed. The spousal unit was already awake and came back into the room braying with laughter. Looks like it was no dream.
Apparently after I'd partially dressed for bed, I went into the bathroom to pee. When I came out, I stumbled back into the bedroom. My mother-in-law's bedroom.
I proceeded to crawl into bed topless with my mother-in-law and spoon her. Seems in my stupor I thought she was the spousal unit. She tried to right the situation but I dismissed her protests, saying I was quite comfortable. I didn't leave her bed until the spousal unit got home and managed to drag me back to our room.
I'm very lucky that my mother-in-law has a good sense of humor. Her biggest concern was that I'd driven home in that state.
I've decided to share my most embarassing moment ever with all my dear bloggies. This is a privelege to be cherished. The spousal unit once told this story among friends without my permission and got the cold shoulder for days.
About 5 years ago I got laid off. My company had been a startup, was purchased by a huge defense contractor and was subsequently run into the ground. I was one of many victims of their incompetence.
The weekend after the axe dropped we went down to New Mexico to visit family. We stayed with my mother-in-law. I'd made plans to have a night out with some girlfriends, and the spousal unit went out with his own friends that same evening.
I got TANKED. My friends did too. They were smart and got picked up/driven home by the men in their lives. I was too drunk and full of self-pity to be that responsible and drove home. Luckily the story continues and does not involve me heading to jail.
Back at my mother-in-law's, I was fumbling to dress for bed. Where in the hell is that pajama top! Ah who cares, I don't need it, I slurred to myself and crawled into bed.
The next morning, I awoke with a pounding headache and a suspicion that I had done something incredibly embarassing. Must have been a bad dream. I rose, found the missing pajama top on the floor, and fell back into bed. The spousal unit was already awake and came back into the room braying with laughter. Looks like it was no dream.
Apparently after I'd partially dressed for bed, I went into the bathroom to pee. When I came out, I stumbled back into the bedroom. My mother-in-law's bedroom.
I proceeded to crawl into bed topless with my mother-in-law and spoon her. Seems in my stupor I thought she was the spousal unit. She tried to right the situation but I dismissed her protests, saying I was quite comfortable. I didn't leave her bed until the spousal unit got home and managed to drag me back to our room.
I'm very lucky that my mother-in-law has a good sense of humor. Her biggest concern was that I'd driven home in that state.
Monday, March 17, 2008
The definition of bleak
Our baby has no heartbeat. It's about half the size it should be at this stage.
We're going back to have one last look on Friday (we've had 2 already) but it doesn't look good.
Cruel twist? Apparently the placenta is still growing normally. So my hormones are still through the roof, I still have morning sickness, and my uterus still thinks things are hunky dory. This means that on Friday we probably get to figure out how to make my body void itself of our lifeless child.
My mind knows that it's for the best. That something went wrong and it wouldn't have been a normal child anyway. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.
The bitterness is starting to set in too. I'll spare you the details, but it really blows to experience this as the latest of a series of many disappointments in our 4 1/2 year quest to have a child.
We're going back to have one last look on Friday (we've had 2 already) but it doesn't look good.
Cruel twist? Apparently the placenta is still growing normally. So my hormones are still through the roof, I still have morning sickness, and my uterus still thinks things are hunky dory. This means that on Friday we probably get to figure out how to make my body void itself of our lifeless child.
My mind knows that it's for the best. That something went wrong and it wouldn't have been a normal child anyway. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.
The bitterness is starting to set in too. I'll spare you the details, but it really blows to experience this as the latest of a series of many disappointments in our 4 1/2 year quest to have a child.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
NEW and IMPROVED
Morning sickness - now you too can have it all day long!
On the bright side, I haven't actually puked. But I do feel like I'm going to yak nearly constantly.
I need to get some saltines. And an accupressure bracelet. Any other remedies you want to share?
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Blimey!
Have been in Phoenix since Wednesday visiting the spousal unit's dad. We'll call him the SUD for short. I should mention that he's originally from Scotland.
Thursday morning I get up and scrounge around for something to eat. The SUD gets up and mentions that his wife eats porridge every morning if I'd like some of that. Porridge? Images of Goldilocks and stories from the Brothers Grimm pop into my head, and I am indelibly intrigued. I express enthusiasm at trying porridge for the first time.
A few minutes later, his wife (American) approaches me with a chuckle. She explains that what she eats for breakfast is oatmeal.
Bloody Brits! Who knew that porridge = oatmeal? I'm convinced that the SUD knew darn well that I'd misunderstood and kept up the gag.
The rest of the time here has been spent working (boo), golfing (nice to see quail and roadrunners on the course in addition to the usual ducks and geese), and learning how to play the nifty game of pickleball. I managed to crush the spousal unit, stowaway and all.
How was your weekend? Would you have fallen for the porridge gag?
Thursday morning I get up and scrounge around for something to eat. The SUD gets up and mentions that his wife eats porridge every morning if I'd like some of that. Porridge? Images of Goldilocks and stories from the Brothers Grimm pop into my head, and I am indelibly intrigued. I express enthusiasm at trying porridge for the first time.
A few minutes later, his wife (American) approaches me with a chuckle. She explains that what she eats for breakfast is oatmeal.
Bloody Brits! Who knew that porridge = oatmeal? I'm convinced that the SUD knew darn well that I'd misunderstood and kept up the gag.
The rest of the time here has been spent working (boo), golfing (nice to see quail and roadrunners on the course in addition to the usual ducks and geese), and learning how to play the nifty game of pickleball. I managed to crush the spousal unit, stowaway and all.
How was your weekend? Would you have fallen for the porridge gag?
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Appalooslave
This is what my ass is looking like these days.
I'm on daily progesterone shots until the 26th to help sustain the pregnancy. The needle is is an inch and a half long and must be inserted into my posterior muscle. In addition to the bruises, I've got little knots on each side too. It feels like my ass is full of marbles.
The spousal unit, who has the pleasure of administering the torture, is becoming much more comfortable as a sadist.
I'm on daily progesterone shots until the 26th to help sustain the pregnancy. The needle is is an inch and a half long and must be inserted into my posterior muscle. In addition to the bruises, I've got little knots on each side too. It feels like my ass is full of marbles.
The spousal unit, who has the pleasure of administering the torture, is becoming much more comfortable as a sadist.
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