Peace

I think it went great.

I had three different classes that I spoke to today. They all responded very well to what I said. We had a question time at the end where they could write down questions for me instead of asking them in front of everyone. I had some really great questions. It helped me feel like they heard what I was trying to say. One group had almost twenty questions for me which I thought was wonderful.

Afterwards I went to the principal to thank him for allowing me such an opportunity. I knew via the teacher I worked with that the principal had some concerns about what I would say and how I would approach a delicate subject without going too far for a school setting. He didn't know me and I can understand that. When I spoke to him this afternoon however, all of those resignations were gone. He was very happy with what had taken place today and is looking forward to the next semester.

He told me that the teacher had come to him after the first session to let him know how things went. He said she was very happy with what I had talked about and that the girls got a lot out of it. She also told him that one student had even come to her after class to talk with her more about what I had said. That one comment made me feel so good. I hate that someone has to experience what I did, but hopefully I was able to help her and give her the courage to seek out some help. It was worth every second of anxiety and fear for that one student to be reached.

I was fearful about how I would handle things. Up to this point the word r.ap.e has been an unspoken word in my vocabulary. It made me nervous to know that I needed to say it today. I did though. It was very empowering to take back a little bit of me that I lost that night. I left the room for the final time with a sense of peace and strength.

Thank you all so very much for the kind words and thoughts that you sent. I actually went in to each session with your encouragement in the front of my mind to help me stand tall.

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

I received a call from a teacher at our high school tonight. Hubby and I had just settled in after supper for our favorite television show. The teacher was so wonderful and sweet. I know of her. My mother knows her. Her son was killed in a horrific accident when I was younger and it was devastating to our elementary school and small community. She doesn't understand exactly what I have been through, but she does understand the need and desire to make something positive come from the ashes. She understands that I feel grief and pain still to this day.

Up to this point I have felt a sort of anxious excitement about all of this. Tonight I am a nervous wreck. She asked me tonight if I could speak this week. I wasn't prepared for it at all. I don't have anything more than the outline I submitted for approval, but I also know that if I don't do this, the opportunity may never be available again. My courage may never get me this far either. I'm going to go on and discuss my plans with my boss and push forward into the unknown. I will spend most of tomorrow wringing my hands and preparing some notes and jotting down info I want the girls to know. It was so great as a plan on paper and in my head, but now it is terrifying!

The teacher caught me off guard in our conversation. She talked about her little boy and about her grief. She told me that she often shared his story with her kids and how difficult it was at times. She then quietly and very gently said "I just want to make sure that you can do this. I want you to be able to handle the aftermath and all of the things you are about to stir up." To read that statement does her tone of voice no justice. She was merely speaking from experience. One survivor to another.

Her statement hit me like a ton of bricks as it sunk in. I realized that I have gotten so caught up in trying to find a positive outlet and I have forgotten to check in with myself. This is going to be hard. I don't know how I will react or what sort of feelings I will bring back to the surface. I know I am strong and I am certain I can make it through the talks. It's the days after that I fear. Hubby has been very supportive of this so far and has even said that hopefully this can help me work through a few of the issues that still hide here and there. I know that he will be there for me and I know that I have already faced the hard parts of all of this. This is a good thing. I need to remember that.

If you could, please send me all of the good thoughts and prayers you can muster this week. I guess I should get some sleep and prepare for a long couple of days!

Surprise! A Show and Tell

Guess what I got at school on Thursday?

Aren't they gorgeous?!?!

The best part was being able to tell everyone that asked me what the occasion was that there wasn't one! No anniversary, birthday, nothing. My Super great Hubby just decided that he would send me flowers! It was the first time he has ever sent me or given me anything from a florist. Don't get me wrong. I've had my lovely share of supermarket flowers which for me are almost just as nice, but this was special and made me feel like a million bucks!

Hubbies are so great to have around for things like this!

I think you should show this to your husband and tell him that these flowers were given simply to say I love you. Have a great day. Perhaps it will lead to a pretty petal or two for you this week!

Validation

The past few weeks and the whole AF mess has brought up a very frustrating situation for me. I am sure that if you suffer from PCOS or happen to struggle with cycles anywhere near similar to mine, you have run into the same crap I get. I am in no way saying that I know more than my doctor by posting this and I am not one of those people that starts out my conversations with "But Goo.gle said..." I don't call him over every little drop or twinge that is out of the ordinary. I am a young woman with a serious menstrual problemn and valid questions and concerns for the health of my body.

This all came to the surface on Monday when Hubby had a chance to talk to our doc for himself. For the past year and a half or so I have been able to brush off his nonchalance about the CSI worthy scenes played out in my bathroom from time to time. I have managed to explain away the doc's comforting words and condescending smiles as a way to reassure me and keep me from worrying about it. On Monday however, he told Hubby something that really ticked me off. He told Hubby that he understood that things were probably heavy and icky right now but that my body would never allow me to bleed too much. He told him there was no reason to be concerned and that when the time came I would simply stop bleeding. He said the fact that I was sick had a lot to do with the messed up hormones more than the large amounts of loss I had experienced.

Lemme back up here doc! I remember being seven years old and caring for my brand new baby brother because Mommy was having one of her "bad times." I knew the word hysterectomy by the time I entered second grade. Granted my parents shielded me from the details but I still knew the word meant Mommy was sick and needed an operation that she was too scared to have. She finally had a hysterectomy at around 35 years old. She had been fighting the doctor about it since she was 29 or 30. My mother would get so anemic that they threatened blood transfusions. I am positive that the only reason she didn't receive numerous transfusions was her fear of going to the doctor. When she went for her last appointment before agreeing for the surgery, she was so pale and sick that they pushed her ahead of a room full of patients. She had around half of the blood supply she should have had. She was truly sick.

I have tried to explain to doc that my mother had a severe problem with her cycles. It doesn't seem to compute for him. I have tried to educate myself on the warning signs and I know that without the intervention of a pill my periods would never stop. I have tested that theory to a point going for over four months once. In fact, that is what brought me to the doc and my PCOS diagnosis in the first place.

It isn't just my doctor that frustrates me with this. I have mentioned before that my mother is rather critical and negative when it comes to Hubby and I having a family or anything else for that matter. You would think that after going through what she has, she would be understanding and supportive. For the most part, that doesn't happen. I get a lot of "I know" and "Well now you know how I felt" sort of comments. I don't think she is uncaring really. I think some of her reaction comes back full circle to how she was treated as a patient with the same problems. I am certain I am not the only one out there that has experienced similar situations even today. To go into a doctor's office with the weak, dizzy, exhausted feeling you have from all of that is a difficult process in and of itself. To then be told that it isn't that big of a deal or it is "normal" is like a kick in the gut! How can something like that be normal? It is understandable that after years of that sort of nonchalance one would grow callous and unintentionally bitter about the whole thing.

I refuse to be minimized like my mother. I will not avoid the doctor's office for fear of the brush off or a shrug. I know that when I have a situation as horrible and scary as I had this past weekend that it is not normal in any sense of the word even for myself and that it is ok to seek help elsewhere.

I wish that just once, my doctor could see and understand what a five week period does to someone. I wish he could see just how heavy and scary my experience is and perhaps he would realize that this is not normal. PCOS is bad enough without all of the added frustration and pain that comes from feeling alone in such a nightmare!

I will step down from my soap box now and our regularly scheduled blogging may commence...

Shhhh....

Two posts today you ask? Oh yes! I just had to stop in and let you all in on a glorious secret....

Make sure that you keep very quiet though whilst you are here. I don't want to disturb the gravitational pull of any planets and in turn ruin all of the glee I am filled with inside.....


As we sit here right this very moment, my downstairs neighbor is piling up all her shit and moving away! OMGolly! I am so happy!

You have no idea. This woman has been a nightmare for the past six months and we have been in serious turmoil for the past three weeks over finding a new place to live because of her. We had already been told she was moving this month but were horrified to see that not only was she still there but she had invited another friend to spend all of his time there too. If you all had any idea what a happy dance I was doing right now!

Without disclosing too much info, this woman has decided that we are the most obnoxious, loud, irritating, and disrespectful people on the face of the earth.

I promise you all we are not noisy people. We have bent over backwards to appease her. We moved all of our living room furniture into our dining room so that we would not make noise walking on the creaky living room floor. Hubby isn't allowed in the house with his work boots on because she thinks we are intentionally stomping. We do not vaccum, wash dishes, or clean anything until she is gone, and we try very hard to ward off any visitors or phone calls until she has gone for the day or night. Our pups can't play or bark at any time. Hubby has been banned from any video gaming while she is home. We truly try to keep things as quiet as we can and have turned our lives upside down for her. We don't even argue in the house. We either whisper our disagreement or if it is a big enough issue we leave and go to a nearby parking lot to hash it out.

We used to grill a lot with Dot and Dan but have put that off all summer this year because of one icky night in which she was cursing and throwing a fit in front of the kids. There have been several times that she has stormed off after I brought groceries home even! I guess the noise of the bags on the floor pissed her off? We are only two people and I swear we don't have that many groceries! I always wondered what she would do if we did have a baby that cried all night. We tried to refrain from keeping Dan and Dot's baby, but I put my foot down there and so did Hubby. No one can get us kicked out over a baby can they? I mean really!

We have been here for almost two years and no one has ever said a word about us. We have been through numerous neighbors all around us and none of them have ever complained or commented on us being too loud. We have lived in other places and never had issues. We are boring people that don't do much. We don't have any children to disturb the noise and our dogs are relatively quiet. We don't have any visitors now and most often only one of us is up and about at a time.

You all please join me in a joyful dance of celebration. Make sure to dance on your tippy toes for now but be prepared to boogie when I give the signal that all is clear!!!!!

I can't wait to start planning a major grill out and s'more fest for the boys in a week or so! Yay!

It just keeps pouring over here!

Per discussion with my doc and Hubby and Mom, I decided to stay home today and rest with my feet up all day. Thankfully it seems to have helped things ease up a bit and I finally feel like I can function a little better.

This morning as Hubby and I sat down to a wonderful breakfast and a movie together before he went to bed, the phone rang. His mom was calling. We put it on speaker so we could both chat with her and immediately you could tell things weren't good. She told Hubby that his grandfather had been having chest pains for a couple of days. I guess they took him to the hospital finally and found three major blockages in his heart. They were life flighting him over to a larger hospital and would operate immediately. Right now the odds don't look real good apparently. We don't know very much because of our distance from the family and Hubby's parents were already on the road when they got the news so they are having to drive a very long way to get back home.

Right now we are waiting. I hate feeling so helpless like this but truly there is nothing we can do. With gas what it is and our little car the way it is there just isn't any possible way for us to go to them right now. Hubby would have to miss a few nights of work and that just can't happen. It hurts to see him so frustrated and upset. He's really close to his grandfather. Everyone that has ever met him is.

They are also meeting with the social worker for my grandfather today to work out the details of him getting home and how Hospice will help and what sort of medicines or equipment he might need. I haven't heard from my mom on that either. We just wait.

Any prayers or thoughts you can send this way would be so appreciated. I'm not sure what we have in store for us in the next few days. I feel so burdened with all of this and so selfish to still be starting our next round of Clomid tonight in the midst of all of this. I know it is what we need to do though and it won't have any effect on how things are for any of our family members, so there isn't any true reason not to. I guess I just get bothered trying so hard to bring new life into the world while we agonize over other lives leaving.

Round 2

Can you believe I missed a show and tell??? I was terribly sad for a little while about that until I passed out for the third time yesterday with an ice pack on my feet and one on my abdomen too. Provera is a nasty, ugly, hateful, heartless, evil wench!

I finally stopped my 30 plus day visit from auntie red and blissfully enjoyed three glorious days without my super absorbant levee friend down below. I found enough energy to finish up my grandfather's blanket that I have been painfully and very slowly working on for a while now. I was able to finally clean my house and hug my husband.

Four days ago tragedy struck however and the river began. I was ok at first. I knew it would happen and I was prepared to deal with a short lived and light visit like normal after one of my marathon flows. This time, no cigar. It has been a nightmare. Our bathroom once again looks like a crime scent every hour or so. I have writhed in pain or nausea many times each day. I cannot walk for more than ten minutes without having a major crisis to deal with. Then there are the hot flashes. I swear there are times when I can almost see the flesh melting off the soles of my feet. Thank you Provera for pissing Auntie off and inviting her back in!

I was off work today thank goodness and was planning on calling in my Round 2 script for Clomid. Last night as I cried sleepy tears I decided that perhaps it was best I just talk to the doctor and ask him first whether he thought I should proceed or wait another month. This morning I decided I was simply going to ask for the clomid and pray that it would help me get situated. The receptionist took my number and told me the doctor might want to talk to me and I hung up expecting to get a call that afternoon saying my script was filled.

While I was out getting lunch ( A terrible trip that will make for a great story for my kids to hear someday.) the doc called. Hubby talked to him. Now, Hubby hasn't taken much interest in my doctor's visits and such. He is really squeamish and steers as far from doctors as he can possibly get. Today was different. My doc being the surprising guy he is asked hubby if he had any questions. Hubby filled his ear full. His first question... When are we going to get pregnant?

I knew that one would have you all in stitches!

I came in with lunch, changed clothes, and sat down to a different husband. He was on my side finally. Not really my side I guess more like off the sidelines. I think he gets it now. I hope he does. It was great to hear him understanding a few things and taking an interest finally anyhow.

The doctor knows that I am having a horrible time. He acknowledged that with Hubby and said that it was actually ok. It had to get worse before it got better. He told him continuing with Clomid was the best next step and filled him in on some of our future options. I usually get nervous and I can't ask the right questions when I see him. Most often I just want out of the stirrups with my meds to head home. Hubby to my surprise had some great questions and the doctor didn't brush him off like I thought he would do to me. It feels good to have some answers and feel a little validated in feeling so bad. There is a whole other post about that but we'll save it for a rainy less reddish day.

I'm considering taking tomorrow off from school but I get so nervous thinking about it. I know I am going to need two days to speak at the high school and I'm trying to stash some days in case something happens with my grandfather. I hate calling out sick for this stuff. I feel so stupid. Normal people have periods every month just like me and here I am calling in for it. Plus it makes me anxious to leave my teachers in limbo without me for a day. I know it hinders things and puts them behind in their teaching. My mother of all people encouraged me to at least take my car in the morning that way I could leave if I needed to. She told me the best thing was to just stay at home on the couch with my feet up and all my glorious ice packed in around me. I have several days stashed from last year and I guess it wouldn't hurt to use just one but I'm going to wait until in the morning.
I just cannot imagine sitting on the floor to play ABC bingo and having to get up out of the floor without terrifying small children and causing a major mess or embarrassing issue!

Anyhow, hopefully I can snatch a pic of the blanket sometime this week to share with you. I'm going to go hunt up an ice pack and take another nap!

It Rains, It Pours, Someone calls Hospice

So, my grandfather has been asking for a while to see another heart doctor. He didn't like the first one that the VA hospital had referred him to I guess. His family doc agreed and sent him to a different doctor that was supposed to be really good.

My mom came in today after lunch and told me they were sending my grandfather home. I was so happy. I hate seeing him in that dreary nursing home and I can't bear to go in another afternoon and try to pretend to be positive and upbeat in such a place. I want him home where he can be comfortable and someone will make sure he gets his medicine at the right times. I want him to be able to get up and make a sandwich or sit on the couch and watch television. I want him to smile again. He hasn't done that in a while.

Mom kept talking about the doctor's appointment and then said, they will be sending hospice out when he gets home. Up until this point I had been happily pretending to listen while saying a quick prayer of thanks. The word hospice stopped me in my tracks.

The physical therapists say they have gotten him as far as he can go and it isn't fair to wear him out day after day like they are. The hip doc wanted him to walk 200 yards before he went home but he hasn't been able to do that in over ten years. The heart doctor has decided that my grandfather is in congestive heart failure. He's had a valve that we knew could close at any moment but this is different. This is definitive. There is no going back.

He could be with us a week, a month, even three years or so. I think we all know though. He is so tired. He is in pain and feels bad most of the time. It is a miracle we have been blessed to have him this long. It is so painful and sad to connect with his eyes most days. He just looks so tired and defeated.

I am hoping that going home will help a lot. I'm sure it will work wonders but I am also realistic with this. Hubby and I have already planned many visits and we are working to make the holidays really special this year. I came home tonight and finished his blanket. The whole time I worked, I felt like I was racing a clock. Everyone has sort of slowed down to spend as much time with him as they can.

The last time a grandparent died, I was 12. He had been sick for a really long time. He had cancer and it was horrible and painful and my parents did everything they could to protect us from the experience while allowing us to say goodbye. This time things are so different. I am an adult. I have a mother who is struggling with this. She says she is ok, but lingered in the parking lot for over an hour today talking and hurting. I just sat in there and listened. It is so weird being here. I feel so much responsibility and as we help my grandfather make plans, I find my name being brought up here and there to help. The whole time I just want to curl up in my mother's lap and let her stroke my hair and tell me that it will all be ok. Instead our roles have reversed in a way.

It has brought a very scary realization to light. I understand as I watch my mother and aunt, that someday I will be standing in their shoes. I know that I will have to make decisions about my parents someday and struggle to find a balance between quality and quantity of life.

I know now why I love my job and working with my kids every day. Being a grown up just sucks!

Provera.. Friend or Foe?

I finally gave up and called the doc. He was super nice and even made a special effort to call me back himself this time to find out what was going on. I didn't even bother asking what kind of medicine this time. I knew. In fact, I didn't even look at it until I got home and started to take it the next morning.

I took the first dose with anticipatory glee. I downed the second with a nonchalant shrug. By the third and fourth dose, the dread had filled my soul and I just swallowed them down willing myself to keep going. I usually find myself in a dark and painful place with Provera. I cramp, I get sick, I sleep, I wring sweat from my clothes day and night despite living in a freezer box. I get weepy, clingy, angry, happy, and most often exhausted. That's only minor compared to the constant hum of a very dull almost migraine the entire time I take it. Sure enough, The past week at school has just been like trudging miles uphill in knee deep mud. I can barely move. I'm usually asleep by 5, get up at 9, and I am back asleep for the night by 11 snoozing the alarm until 7 each morning.


At the same time, I welcome the medicine with open arms desperate for any relief from the internal flow I have dealt with for over a month. I am so happy that I am done with it for a few days. It feels so decadent to have undies without a mass of super absorbant protection. I can finally relax in a real chair at work or sit in the floor with the kids without worrying about embarrassing problems. I can feel my body syncing itself again and despite the icky feelings I know my hormones are working as close to right as they can again.

I know in a couple of days I will stop the medicine and af will start all over again. I know she will be brief but present and hopefully I can try another round of Clomid. I know that all the freedom and relief I have is short lived and that in a couple of months I will find myself right back in this same place reliving the same conversations with my doc and struggling to stay away past 5.

I love that Provera works so well for me but I hate that I have to resort to it. I hate the way it makes me feel and I loathe the dread I will wallow in for the next couple of months until I find myself right back here again.

I'm tired of infertility. I'm tired of wanting a baby. I'm tired of the heart aches and body pains. I'm tired of the tears and fears, pills and exams, hopes and disappointments. I'm sick of feeling bad and putting myself through all of this nonsense with no guarantee in the end.

I am not naive though. I know that despite all of the bad I will push on, unable to give up. I will keep trudging through the mud with aching muscles. I'm not done yet.

A Show and Tell.. Just because...

Today's Show and Tell is a bit random or without reason other than how it has drawn me in lately.

When I went to Belarus, we never really got any shopping or tourism time. We opted to visit families of bedridden children during our tourist time and we were much more blessed with that experience. We did manage to visit one store on our way back from our visits and I fell in love with a little bird whistle I found there. I bought it thinking I would give it as a gift to someone. Our souvenier time was so limited and mostly involved hotel and airport gift shops (that were amazingly true to culture and reasonably priced) so getting certain things for each person was difficult and rushed. I ended up just buying several little things that I knew I could find a home for and worked it out when I got home. This little bird was originally intended for my aunt's daughter or my grandparents but the closer to home I got, the more in love with it I fell.

I have just recently gotten a new shelf that I sat by my bathroom door and each time I walk past it, this little bird catches my eye and makes me smile. I don't know why but it just has a happy look. Dot and Dan's baby girl has recently discovered it and she always makes a beeline for it as soon as she gets in the door. Apparently I'm not the only one drawn to it!

In addition to the bird I snapped a picture of two of my other two favorite treasures. The matryoshka doll (or nesting doll) in the back was one of my favorite finds. It was the only one like it in a hotel gift store and I snatched it up for around ten dollars I think. The veil around her head is painted with a glittery paint that can't be seen in the picture but makes her so beautiful in person! I never really had an interest in these dolls until I came back from Belarus and now I always have to look twice if I see one while shopping. Of course, none of the ones I have seen have compared to the hand painted beauties I came across in Belarus and I am always left with a homesick feeling.

The tree is a fabulous treasure from a group of disabled women from a very rural town in Belarus that the other team passed through. They hand bead each leaf and work the copper wire into these gorgeous trees. They sell them for just a couple of dollars each and have managed to earn a living and support their little group with their wonderful art. Our missionary often picks up new trees and ornaments and carries them with him to different places he visits trying to sell what he can for them. We bought two boxes full of goodies that day and we all had to ration out what we got to make sure everyone had a chance to get one. I managed to get two trees. The other one was a gift to my mother and it is pink and white like cherry blossoms.

So there ya have it. My show and tell for the week. I hope that these things can bring a smile to your face like they do for me! Go on over to Mel's and see what everyone else has this week!

Pigskin

Is it the helmets with their gaudy logos and ugly masks? Is it the big white numbers piling upon each other with much gnashing of teeth and limb? Perhaps it is the way those skin tight spandex pants hug the pads (and bums) trying to protect said limbs?

Each year with the yellowing of the leaves, the air fills with a new "vibe." I can feel it. I get excited and began planning my Saturdays for the next few months. I toss carbs to the side and pile up on tortilla chips...made from corn (gasp!) and I settle in for some serious team spirit. I have a special pair of pants that I don each Saturday. I put off baby sitting and outings with friends. I will refuse to answer the phone, leaving hubby desperately trying to explain to my grandmother that I am not screaming in pain but in pure raptured bliss. It is football time!

For many kids, baseball was the glue that bound them to their fathers. While Dad and I did get very involved in my local softball league and found many wonderful father daughter moments there, it will never compare to the time my dad and I reverantly walked hand in hand, jaws dropped through the concrete entrance of my first ever in person football game. It was as if my dad had introduced me to a set of earthly pearly gates! We saw many games over the years and each one was as special as the rest. There was even one game, just Dad and me, sitting in puddles, draped in camo rain ponchos cheering with the other die hard fans. I will never forget it.

This feeling wraps tight around me as football begins each season. Many think I'm crazy. I'm a girl. I'm not supposed to be that enthralled with a pile of sweaty grass stained boys on a field. At first, Dot and Dan were a bit offended that I would send my hubby out to have fun with them, opting to stay home with my foam finger and a bag of oreos. They just can't understand! As a kid, I cheered when my dad cheered. I would ask him questions and he would just nod or grunt, caught up in the thrill of the play or the passionate disapproval of a bad call. Eventually, I caught on. I can't tell you every single position and its responsibilities but I know when it is good and when it is bad. I no longer wait to hear the roar of the crowd to respond appropriately. Instead, I am often seen jumping off the edge of the couch in disbelief that number 47 had the audacity to move before the clock started! I am a visual learner and therefore the details matter not. I know football just as well as some of the most die hard men in the country!

Most often, Sundays find me hoarse and saddened that the weeks festivities are over. I go through a period of melancholy as the season draws to an end. To be honest, I have a growing dread in the pit of my stomach as each week passes. If you have been visiting for very long you know that winter is a horrific and terrifying time for me. I fight desperately to make it through till March. I think football is a way for me to inch my way slowly into the shorter days. After the season, there are holidays to get me through till January. I usually crochet my way into February, coasting on the excitement that I have enjoyed for the past couple of months. By February I am clawing at the edge of the cliff and count days praying for March to rush on in.

This year is no different. Our friends are now well aware of my bizarre obsession with college football. They love to jostle hubby a bit about how backwards our relationship seems. My mother has already delivered a cautionary "Don't get too loud, you know your neighbor dates a cop and loves to call him to your house for even the slightest sqeak of a mouse! Remember that you will get a migraine if you get too carried away! Don't ruin your dinner with oreos and chips! Any by all means remember to turn off the crock pot!" I have already done my usual schedule mapping to make sure nothing gets in the way of my games. I have my alarm set for tomorrow's game and I am a bundle of excitement making sleep a difficult thing tonight.

The excitement is deceiving. You would think I had my bags and coolers packed ready for a long trip to the stadium itself when infact I am going to turn on whatever means by which I can sit at home and soak in the crowd and the game. I dream at least half a dozen times each season of that moment when you walk through the cave like doors, soda in one hand, foam finger in the other, and feel the world drop away as you enter the stadium for a real game. Hubby and I have made plans for next season already. I'm not sure if I could manage to contain myself if we actually got to see a real game. I pray if we do he can find the soul gripping passion my dad gave to me.

It's football time ladies and gentleman! Bring on the pigskin!

My 100th Post

I am infertile. I know you are probably sitting there saying to yourself "duh" but stay with me here. When I started this blog I was merely a desperate and sad woman seeking her child while riding a canoe on the river of Denial. It was a sorrow filled ride with much debris to clear and many bruises to endure.

I fought that river and found my way into acceptance. I know now that I am infertile. It is just part of my journey here. It is who I am but doesn't make me. What I mean is that my life is affected by my infertility but I am not defined by its barriers. At one point I couldn't say that. I was consumed. Every breath was an inhale or exhale of baby filled thoughts.

Being a survivor, I can recognize the grieving process in my emotions throughout time. At first I clung to hope. I ignored it willing the truth to disappear. I felt if I could stuff it away and pretend not to notice that perhaps no one else would, including my uterus. Wrong!

After a while I found the hopelessness and pain. I tortured myself with inadequacy and failure. I tortured myself with fear of never holding a child and hope that it could happen at any time. I cried so many times because I had a reason to cry. I would fall apart over a negative test and then hours later dissolve into tears because I was in that place. It was hard.

Further down the road I found the fight. I thought I would take over and force my body into submission. I could make myself pregnant. It would happen and I would overcome this label I had stitched into my tag. I refused to accept that I was different. Do you see that river again anyone?

After a few answers and a plan, a few failed attempts and a lot of desperate soul searching, I have come to a place where I am ok with the word infertile. I understand it. I realize that everything is what it is for a reason and I cannot force the universe to change course simply because I say so. I see my path ahead and I have accepted the obstacles I know will come my way. I am prepared for the fight.

I can't say that I am ok with being infertile yet. I don't think anyone can honestly say that. I can't say I don't cry with searing grief laden pain at times. I won't tell you that it is ok if I never have a child and I can't tell you that I know 100% I ever will.

I can tell you that I see hope and a chance for a wonderful future with my child. There is a faint light on up the road somewhere for me. I can tell you that I expect the crying now and I allow it to just be. It is normal and perfectly ok. I know that I am a strong person that can face what lies ahead with as much courage as I can muster but I recognize the need to hurt and grieve as well.

As I curl up and prepare for the Provera laced weekend full of hot flashes and tears, I know the journey is simply that. A journey. No matter how it ends I will be forever changed.

I've been busy this week!

I thought for show and tell this week I would show you all just how busy I have been. Yesterday (Friday) was Grandparents' Day and we celebrated it with great style! This year we did our "self" unit just before and our intentions were to have their people made and displayed for the grandparents to enjoy. When planning though, none of us thought about the fact that it would be a four day week! One day made a huge difference. There are 82 kindergarteners and each one had to decorate their own person. One of my teachers had a few parents come in and do hers. The other three teachers (including my mom) enlisted the help of another assistant and myself. Thank goodness they had ordered ready made forms that we only needed to paint. The other teacher used shipping paper and traced and cut out each child. Icky. I thought they turned out fabulous though and we had lots of grandparents come this year!

Make sure to remember your grandparents this week!

I did it.

I did it. It has eaten away at me for months now and I finally put it on paper. There is no going back now!

Last night, unable to sleep (I'm sensing a pattern lately...), I sat down with keyboard at the ready and wrote a letter to the high school principal. I outlined my intentions and what I wanted to give to the girls during my talks. I will go tomorrow and deliver it to the guidance counselor after school. She told me that she would present it for me. By doing so, she can be sure that he is free of other obligations and she will have his full focus and attention.

I thought that as this huge snowball grew I would become more and more nervous. I thought perhaps I would find myself trying to dig out an empty box to hide it all in. To be honest, I have found a great sense of peace and justification. I'm almost excited to take this step.

Feeling this way helps me know that this was the right time and place for me. I can see healing within my own self for the first time in a long time. It surprises me to pull out a box once in a while and discover how far removed I am from that place in my life. It makes me feel silly for storing things up so much. By the time I get around to dealing with them, often times, life has tossed me some new and much larger journey and I feel ridiculous stressing myself out by trying to move forward and backtrack all at once.

Let this be a lesson self. Keep moving. Sell all of your storage space! Be confident in your own strength and plow through what ever hurdles are ahead of you then and there. It is much easier to jump them one at a time. You are not a monster truck and jumping 15 hurdles at once could result in some serious injury!

The Metformin Trail...

I sooo should be asleep right now, but I just can't sleep and my hands are all tingly from crocheting so much today so I suppose I can blog right? Good.

As I have mentioned before, the beginning of school (or any major shift change for that matter) always gets me out of sync on so many levels. I am a routine sort of person. I set my brain at night before bed to do certain things and I just do them. If I need to get up at a certain time I can almost always wake myself up. How well I sleep that night is not the point of the discussion, but I almost always wake up.

Anyhow, one of the major things that almost immediately falls apart is my metformin schedule. For whatever reason it is just one thing I can not wrap my brain around. If I get out of sync I have a horrible time trying to get back on track and take it regularly. It did not help that once I found my niche I ran out of meds over a weekend in a small town and had to wait three days for more (I did plan ahead and call it in. I just had technical difficulties in actually going to pick it up). I totally believe that this has had a profound impact on my prolonged visit with af. I also know that it is one of the reasons why I feel so crummy right now.

As I struggle to get it back on track and work desperately to obtain and maintain some semblance of flow and order in my day, I am becoming more and more aware of the fact that my food intake sucks. When I first started met I was encouraged to research it while I waited for test results. I read all sorts of horror stories and decided that I would be proactive and change my diet before the doctor did so in order to help cushion some of the shock.

It worked great for a while and in fact the doctor did not ask me to modify my foods in any way. My sugar levels truly border on the lower side of things and with metformin in the mix they have a tendency to get a little too low. Still, I maintained the diet and I loved every minute! I lost thirty pounds and once adjusted to the side effects, I felt great!

When the doctor announced that my body was in wonderful working order and that we should seriously discuss our options I was all on board. He told me I would need to take prenatals. No problem. I was already on them. He told me to eat healthy. Check. He told me to stop smoking and drinking if I did. Check. He told me to cut out all artificial sweeteners....Stop! My staple had become diet sodas and splenda laden goodies to tide me over. What was I going to do?

I immediately cut them all out. I did ok for a few days. Then it hit me. I just crashed one weekend. I grabbed a soda on the way home from church and felt immediately better. So, I went out and bought a case of them. I thought, "I can ration them out one or two a day and all will be fine..." Well, one thing led to another and another. Migraines entered the picture and the neuro had a list of foods I had to cut out. Money got tight and groceries went up. It was cheap for me to eat a bowl of mac n' cheese for dinner sometimes when hubby was at work. He got used to his old favorite foods and started sneaking them in.

It all finally fell apart.

I have tried. I have truly tried to get myself back on track. I have bought certain things and refused others. I have label shopped and all that stuff. I hate going out with friends or over to my family's house and having to be "picky." I hate that it takes me hours to cook something that is safe for me to eat. I despise listening to hubby whine and complain. I detest taking three hours for a week worth of shopping because I have forgotten how to buy the right stuff and then crying as I walk out with the receipt in hand. Sugar free means more expensive.

Just to point this out.... I would think that by taking something out of the food it would be cheaper to make and therefore cheaper for me to buy!

So here I am. I am sure my cycles would be better if I got back on the wagon. I am sure I could manage and feel better if I found my way. I'm just not sure how I did it. I think before I had a huge fear of diabetes and therefore I felt there was no margin for error. Now I know that diabetes is not in any way (right now that is) a problem and I guess I just got too relaxed about it.

I need to find a way to get myself situated again. Any advice???