Sunday, August 30, 2009
Funny Funny
How am I just now finding this? Funny, Funny.
And this one... even better! (just fyi- one of the animations does contain an expletive, in case salty language greatly offends you... but, i posted it anyway, because honestly, life is real, and i've uttered... or yelled... the occasional one or six on particulary bad days of this journey...shocker, right?:-)
I want to have them over for dinner....
Thursday, August 27, 2009
And now, we wait...
I have debated and debated with myself about actually putting this on here, but I figured, what the hey, why not.
Today was our first, hopefully last, IUI. I learned a couple of things.
1. The technical description of the directionality of my uterus. (I can't believe I just typed the words "my uterus" in public... but there you go.)
2. Reinforcement of how good my God is. The worrisome details that had been present in the past were inexplicably absent today... the worrisome details that could have extremely affected the outcome of the IUI... just gone... we had a perfect procedure.
3. My husband is a big goofball, and I don't know what I'd do without him.
Why is my husband a goofball, you ask? Because he has the ability to make my laugh hysterically while in the very compromising position the IUI requires. So, the nurses helping today come in the room, and we are quite familiar already, so we get started right away. The chair is the standard one you ladies all know and love, but it has to be adjusted to the right height. Sugarbear is up by my head, holding my hand like a good husband does. The nurse starts raising and tilting the chair, and things are very much in progress. Sugarbear, in fascination, states loudly that he wants a chair like this in his living room to watch football in. Yup. My husband, ladies and gentlemen...
Then, the procedure is done, and the routine is that you stay put with the chair tilted for a bit. The nurses leave the room, and it is just me and Sugarbear. After the sweet talk, Sugarbear begins talking about how bored he is... and then proceeds to start going through drawers and cabinets, touching everything. It is all I can do in my compromised position to keep him from playing with the controls for the chair... "But I want to play with it!" he says... "What's that?" "Why are there so many speculums?" "What's in that bottle?" 'Syringes!" "I told you they were puppy training pads..." "I want to touch the buttons!" talking about the sonogram machine... I am laughing loudly. I can't imagine what the office staff thought at the crazy couple laughing their heads off in the procedure room... I wonder what they'd think if they saw Sugarbear touching the piece of equipment that had a large tag on it that said "Do Not Touch"...
And now, we wait...
Today was our first, hopefully last, IUI. I learned a couple of things.
1. The technical description of the directionality of my uterus. (I can't believe I just typed the words "my uterus" in public... but there you go.)
2. Reinforcement of how good my God is. The worrisome details that had been present in the past were inexplicably absent today... the worrisome details that could have extremely affected the outcome of the IUI... just gone... we had a perfect procedure.
3. My husband is a big goofball, and I don't know what I'd do without him.
Why is my husband a goofball, you ask? Because he has the ability to make my laugh hysterically while in the very compromising position the IUI requires. So, the nurses helping today come in the room, and we are quite familiar already, so we get started right away. The chair is the standard one you ladies all know and love, but it has to be adjusted to the right height. Sugarbear is up by my head, holding my hand like a good husband does. The nurse starts raising and tilting the chair, and things are very much in progress. Sugarbear, in fascination, states loudly that he wants a chair like this in his living room to watch football in. Yup. My husband, ladies and gentlemen...
Then, the procedure is done, and the routine is that you stay put with the chair tilted for a bit. The nurses leave the room, and it is just me and Sugarbear. After the sweet talk, Sugarbear begins talking about how bored he is... and then proceeds to start going through drawers and cabinets, touching everything. It is all I can do in my compromised position to keep him from playing with the controls for the chair... "But I want to play with it!" he says... "What's that?" "Why are there so many speculums?" "What's in that bottle?" 'Syringes!" "I told you they were puppy training pads..." "I want to touch the buttons!" talking about the sonogram machine... I am laughing loudly. I can't imagine what the office staff thought at the crazy couple laughing their heads off in the procedure room... I wonder what they'd think if they saw Sugarbear touching the piece of equipment that had a large tag on it that said "Do Not Touch"...
And now, we wait...
Monday, August 24, 2009
Too Much
I've tried and tried to put together a deep, meaningful post about our current plan and goings-on, as I thought it would help clear my head and keep me focused. But, it's just not coming. There is too much stuff floating around in my head, and everything I write seems silly and annoyingly pious. So, here is a random picture of Chica dog...
"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see." Hebrews 11:1
Confidence and Assurance. Word up, yo.
"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see." Hebrews 11:1
Confidence and Assurance. Word up, yo.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Irony
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything about baby-making. So, I thought I’d share some thoughts. I won’t go into extreme detail about ‘the plan’ and all the little things that make up the current course of fertility treatment. Sounds weird, but seriously, hashing over details is a burden for me, not a comfort, and I’m sure no one wants the nitty gritty details. Instead, I choose to find humor in the situation as it pertains to the outside world, which has always been a pretty good coping mechanism for me. I’ll keep the scary emotional stuff to myself for now, you’re very welcome.
For instance, I’ve always been a big fan of irony. Irony ranks just below sarcasm for me as far as literary devices go. I’ve always hated going to the doctor… any kind of doctor. I will avoid it like the plague, sometimes to my detriment. In the last 10 months, I’ve had more doctors’ appointments than I’ve had the rest of my life combined, and I’m not even sick. My current schedule is a visit every three-four days.
On that same note, one of the reasons why I hate going to the doctor so much is that I have a much cherished bubble of personal space, and I can be pretty modest. Gym in school was torture for me, as it involved a communal changing room. NOW- Every single one of these doctor’s appointments include the words “waist-down”, “pink drape”, and “this might be cold”. Yes, I do understand that modesty goes out the window when you are pushing a baby out, but in that instance, the baby is kind of a motivator.
Moving on- another reason why I’ve always hated going to the doctor is that I’ve had for most of my life an irrational fear of needles. I don’t know why, although I can point to a couple of traumatic events in my childhood that may have something to do with it. Don’t judge… I make up for it by being extremely rational in other areas. Anyway, this is the most ironic of all, in that my life now consists of a red sharps container on my kitchen counter, a box of alcohol swabs, a pharmacy in my fridge, and so much lab work that I’m worried about being anemic. And on top of that, I am a really hard person to get blood from. Seriously… my last appointment ended with two nurses, two needles, three tubes, my right arm, and the words “can you come milk her”. Not fun. You know it’s bad when the nurse has to pull up a chair… BUT- I am extremely nonchalant about needles now. Fear conquered!
I will post a more serious post soon, as I have thoughts in my head that need to come out … but for now, I’ll laugh at the irony…
For instance, I’ve always been a big fan of irony. Irony ranks just below sarcasm for me as far as literary devices go. I’ve always hated going to the doctor… any kind of doctor. I will avoid it like the plague, sometimes to my detriment. In the last 10 months, I’ve had more doctors’ appointments than I’ve had the rest of my life combined, and I’m not even sick. My current schedule is a visit every three-four days.
On that same note, one of the reasons why I hate going to the doctor so much is that I have a much cherished bubble of personal space, and I can be pretty modest. Gym in school was torture for me, as it involved a communal changing room. NOW- Every single one of these doctor’s appointments include the words “waist-down”, “pink drape”, and “this might be cold”. Yes, I do understand that modesty goes out the window when you are pushing a baby out, but in that instance, the baby is kind of a motivator.
Moving on- another reason why I’ve always hated going to the doctor is that I’ve had for most of my life an irrational fear of needles. I don’t know why, although I can point to a couple of traumatic events in my childhood that may have something to do with it. Don’t judge… I make up for it by being extremely rational in other areas. Anyway, this is the most ironic of all, in that my life now consists of a red sharps container on my kitchen counter, a box of alcohol swabs, a pharmacy in my fridge, and so much lab work that I’m worried about being anemic. And on top of that, I am a really hard person to get blood from. Seriously… my last appointment ended with two nurses, two needles, three tubes, my right arm, and the words “can you come milk her”. Not fun. You know it’s bad when the nurse has to pull up a chair… BUT- I am extremely nonchalant about needles now. Fear conquered!
I will post a more serious post soon, as I have thoughts in my head that need to come out … but for now, I’ll laugh at the irony…
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sibling Rivalry
This...
is the dogs' toy box. It sits in front of the fireplace, next to their blankets. It is where the toys are kept, and the dogs know that this is where they go. Now, if I could only teach them to put them back when they are done, but we just aren't there yet!
Anyway, you'll notice that there are no whole toys. There are scraps of toys. There are pieces and parts... a wing here, a body there... a foot there. I recently had to clean out the carnage of all the useless scraps. There are dried out husks of toys that have had their innards torn out by an industrious wienie dog. Seriously. Both dogs prefer plush toys. Ginger can dismantle a stuffed toy in minutes, no matter how well-made. She makes it her mission to disembowel them. She will cover a room in stuffing, and when I think that there is no more stuffing, she will dig her little wienie dog nose down into the carcass, and find more. It has come to the point where as soon as we notice she has made the first incision, we just go ahead and eviscerate the poor thing ourselves. She will then proceed to tear them apart, trying to prove how ferocious of a badger hunter she is.
Chica, on the other hand, is more docile. She likes to suck on plush toys like a baby sucks on a pacifier. She will hold it between her paws and suck for hours. She is scared of any toy that makes noise, and refuses to have anything to do with plastic toys. She loves anything made of fleece. She will almost take off a hand if you try to part her from a basted bone though... go figure.
The dogs fight over toys like siblings. Ginger will want to bury a toy in the blanket that Chica wants to suck on, and they only want what the other one has.
So, Chica gets back at Ginger by putting the toy parts to other use...
More to come.
is the dogs' toy box. It sits in front of the fireplace, next to their blankets. It is where the toys are kept, and the dogs know that this is where they go. Now, if I could only teach them to put them back when they are done, but we just aren't there yet!
Anyway, you'll notice that there are no whole toys. There are scraps of toys. There are pieces and parts... a wing here, a body there... a foot there. I recently had to clean out the carnage of all the useless scraps. There are dried out husks of toys that have had their innards torn out by an industrious wienie dog. Seriously. Both dogs prefer plush toys. Ginger can dismantle a stuffed toy in minutes, no matter how well-made. She makes it her mission to disembowel them. She will cover a room in stuffing, and when I think that there is no more stuffing, she will dig her little wienie dog nose down into the carcass, and find more. It has come to the point where as soon as we notice she has made the first incision, we just go ahead and eviscerate the poor thing ourselves. She will then proceed to tear them apart, trying to prove how ferocious of a badger hunter she is.
Chica, on the other hand, is more docile. She likes to suck on plush toys like a baby sucks on a pacifier. She will hold it between her paws and suck for hours. She is scared of any toy that makes noise, and refuses to have anything to do with plastic toys. She loves anything made of fleece. She will almost take off a hand if you try to part her from a basted bone though... go figure.
The dogs fight over toys like siblings. Ginger will want to bury a toy in the blanket that Chica wants to suck on, and they only want what the other one has.
So, Chica gets back at Ginger by putting the toy parts to other use...
More to come.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The Pets...
I thought it was time to introduce everyone to the pets... they are a lively bunch.
This is Chica. She was Sugarbear's Christmas present our first year dating, 1999. She was a pound puppy. Chica is Sugarbear's dog, but she adores her mommy. She seriously lives and breathes for me... she follows me around the house, always wants to sit in my lap, and sleeps at my feet. Sugarbear is quite jealous that she greets me at the door when I come home. He doesn't get that honor.
And this is Ginger. She is my dog. We got her in early 2003, about 6 months after we got married. She loves anyone who will play fetch. She loves to hide her toys under things, like blankets, and them dig them out. She is emotionally needy. Tennis balls are her addiction. She can sniff them out anywhere. She is delicate. If no one is watching, she will sleep under the covers with her head on my pillow.
This is Sergeant Death. Sugarbear bought her for me two years ago to make me smile one day when I didn't feel like smiling. And then he named her Sergeant Death. She loves her daddy. She sits on the top of his recliner, and tries to groom his head. She lays in his lap. She lets him pet her tummy. She almost won't let me near her. She hates my guts.
The End.
This is Chica. She was Sugarbear's Christmas present our first year dating, 1999. She was a pound puppy. Chica is Sugarbear's dog, but she adores her mommy. She seriously lives and breathes for me... she follows me around the house, always wants to sit in my lap, and sleeps at my feet. Sugarbear is quite jealous that she greets me at the door when I come home. He doesn't get that honor.
And this is Ginger. She is my dog. We got her in early 2003, about 6 months after we got married. She loves anyone who will play fetch. She loves to hide her toys under things, like blankets, and them dig them out. She is emotionally needy. Tennis balls are her addiction. She can sniff them out anywhere. She is delicate. If no one is watching, she will sleep under the covers with her head on my pillow.
This is Sergeant Death. Sugarbear bought her for me two years ago to make me smile one day when I didn't feel like smiling. And then he named her Sergeant Death. She loves her daddy. She sits on the top of his recliner, and tries to groom his head. She lays in his lap. She lets him pet her tummy. She almost won't let me near her. She hates my guts.
The End.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Regarding Side Effects...
Not Me Monday!
Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.
The other night when I was woken up by a pee-pee dancing dachshund at 3 am, I did not put both dogs outside, and then promptly go back to bed and fall asleep instead of just waiting the few minutes for them to go potty and let them back in. When they started barking a short time later, I did not pretend to remain asleep so my hubby would wake up and let them in...which he, of course, did. That would be mean.
I most certainly did not park in the "expectant moms only" parking spot at the pharmacy today, just for the thrill of it.
Of course I didn't start laughing during worship yesterday because i could not shake an egg shaker in rhythm to save my life during one song...
I, of course, didn't sample Sugarbear's orange slush on the way home from Sonic just to find out if my hate for fake orange flavoring still exists... I had my own cranberry lime slush, and i was trying to be sweet and bring him a treat... and for the record, i hate fake orange flavoring...
Have an excellent week everyone!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Side Effects...
-abdominal or pelvic pain, tenderness, pressure, or swelling
-nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, or flatulence (gas);
-fever or chills;
-headache;
-dizziness;
-rapid pulse or heart rate;
-muscle or joint weakness or aching;
-breast tenderness;
-pain, swelling, or irritation at the injection site
-dry skin, a rash, or hair loss.
-allergic reaction
-blood clots
-confusion, severe dizziness, severe headache; or
-difficulty breathing.
Sign me up.
-nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, or flatulence (gas);
-fever or chills;
-headache;
-dizziness;
-rapid pulse or heart rate;
-muscle or joint weakness or aching;
-breast tenderness;
-pain, swelling, or irritation at the injection site
-dry skin, a rash, or hair loss.
-allergic reaction
-blood clots
-confusion, severe dizziness, severe headache; or
-difficulty breathing.
Sign me up.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Not Me Monday...
Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.
I did not bust my hiney in the middle of the very slick and shiny polished hallway in my office building today... I definitely didn't slip not once, but twice, trying to get up... I most certainly did not do all of this in front of a complete stranger from upstairs... Not me.
I, of course, did not burst into tears yesterday when my best friend told me how much she and her husband have been praying for me and Sugarbear... that would be an emotional reaction, and I don't have those...not me.
I did not contemplate, at least for a second, deboning a duck yesterday, just for fun, after seeing Julie and Julia... I don't like duck after all, and that would just be a waste... (btw... excellent movie... you'll enjoy it... I promise...) Not me!
For breakfast yesterday, I most certainly did not take a handful of vanilla wafers and proceed to dip them into the jar of nutella... that's not breakfast, after all, and it is definitely not sanitary to dip the cookies directly into the jar of chocolaty-nutty goodness... that would be gross... most certainly not me!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Part III
Part III
Okay, I figured it’s about time I posted part III of the Sugarbear and Jenny story… So, I left off where Sugarbear had bought a new electric guitar and named it after another girl, as I had stood him up. The next couple of weeks had passed, with Sugarbear still making up excuses to steal my watch, and sit next to me in church. I was playing oblivious to his very obvious crush on me, because, of course I wasn’t interested, as I was going away to college. Our time together always included his best friend, and the pair are seriously two of the funniest people I’ve ever met. It was a barrel of monkeys every time we were together. One day, after something at the church of course, the three of us were walking to our cars. Sugarbear, after saying something very witty, I’m sure, got in his car and left. His best friend and I stood next to my car, shooting the breeze. His best friend got right to the point… “He really likes you, you know…” Me- “umm, uh, ummm, huh…”… “He’s a really good guy.” Me- “umm….yeah”. End of conversation. Short conversation leads to contemplating by me… maybe I should ask the chubby computer nerd out on a date… couldn’t hurt, right? It might actually be fun, and, if nothing else, I will have a hilarious time, as he was the funniest person I’ve ever met. Not to mention… he played the guitar. I like musicians. I like guitarists… just not the girly, sensitive, DMB’s Satellite playing ones… and Sugarbear was definitely not one of those. This might be fun. So, up comes our “senior banquet” at church… and the theme was the Oscars… so, I donned my favorite, at the time, black dress. Sugarbear, true to form, chose a bow tie, sweater vest, and newsboy cap… and as always with him, his guitar. The banquet was in our fellowship hall, (where are wedding reception ended up being… go figure). So, we do the whole “yea, we’re graduating” thing, and as the evening was ending, I decided to be bold, and ask Sugarbear to get a cup of coffee with me. (My favorite then and now… extra hot chai a little on the dry side). He quickly introduces me to his parents, and off we went. Coincidentally, I don’t remember meeting them, and didn’t truly meet them until after we were engaged. At this point in time, it is about 10pm, and we go off searching for an open coffee shop, me in my heels and he in his newsboy cap and bow tie. Well, A-town is not your most happening of places at times, and we cannot find a coffee shop still open on our side of town. So, we are driving, talking, laughing, and we end of in my neighborhood. At the elementary school. At the playground. On the swing set. In our dress clothes. Barefoot. I don’t even remember what we talked about. Probably something about physics, or Einstein, or arguing about music… whatever it was , from the point on, I definitely saw the chubby computer nerd guitarist in a new light... he was funny. He was witty. He was smart. He was musical. He was not afraid to be absolutely totally himself all the time. He was probably a stronger Christian then than I am now, no joke. He was a good guy… very unlike the total jerk I had been kinda seeing from work… he treated me nicely, respectfully… he treated me like the only girl on earth… still does… and the rest is history. Now, if you ask Sugarbear, he would say that our first date came much later, that we had no romantic intentions that night. I think it’s just an excuse so he won’t have to admit that I asked him out first.
Okay, I figured it’s about time I posted part III of the Sugarbear and Jenny story… So, I left off where Sugarbear had bought a new electric guitar and named it after another girl, as I had stood him up. The next couple of weeks had passed, with Sugarbear still making up excuses to steal my watch, and sit next to me in church. I was playing oblivious to his very obvious crush on me, because, of course I wasn’t interested, as I was going away to college. Our time together always included his best friend, and the pair are seriously two of the funniest people I’ve ever met. It was a barrel of monkeys every time we were together. One day, after something at the church of course, the three of us were walking to our cars. Sugarbear, after saying something very witty, I’m sure, got in his car and left. His best friend and I stood next to my car, shooting the breeze. His best friend got right to the point… “He really likes you, you know…” Me- “umm, uh, ummm, huh…”… “He’s a really good guy.” Me- “umm….yeah”. End of conversation. Short conversation leads to contemplating by me… maybe I should ask the chubby computer nerd out on a date… couldn’t hurt, right? It might actually be fun, and, if nothing else, I will have a hilarious time, as he was the funniest person I’ve ever met. Not to mention… he played the guitar. I like musicians. I like guitarists… just not the girly, sensitive, DMB’s Satellite playing ones… and Sugarbear was definitely not one of those. This might be fun. So, up comes our “senior banquet” at church… and the theme was the Oscars… so, I donned my favorite, at the time, black dress. Sugarbear, true to form, chose a bow tie, sweater vest, and newsboy cap… and as always with him, his guitar. The banquet was in our fellowship hall, (where are wedding reception ended up being… go figure). So, we do the whole “yea, we’re graduating” thing, and as the evening was ending, I decided to be bold, and ask Sugarbear to get a cup of coffee with me. (My favorite then and now… extra hot chai a little on the dry side). He quickly introduces me to his parents, and off we went. Coincidentally, I don’t remember meeting them, and didn’t truly meet them until after we were engaged. At this point in time, it is about 10pm, and we go off searching for an open coffee shop, me in my heels and he in his newsboy cap and bow tie. Well, A-town is not your most happening of places at times, and we cannot find a coffee shop still open on our side of town. So, we are driving, talking, laughing, and we end of in my neighborhood. At the elementary school. At the playground. On the swing set. In our dress clothes. Barefoot. I don’t even remember what we talked about. Probably something about physics, or Einstein, or arguing about music… whatever it was , from the point on, I definitely saw the chubby computer nerd guitarist in a new light... he was funny. He was witty. He was smart. He was musical. He was not afraid to be absolutely totally himself all the time. He was probably a stronger Christian then than I am now, no joke. He was a good guy… very unlike the total jerk I had been kinda seeing from work… he treated me nicely, respectfully… he treated me like the only girl on earth… still does… and the rest is history. Now, if you ask Sugarbear, he would say that our first date came much later, that we had no romantic intentions that night. I think it’s just an excuse so he won’t have to admit that I asked him out first.
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