Monday, June 28, 2010

Gee, how about some cheese with that "whine"?

It's a little embarrassing to go back and read through my posts because the majority of them are SO WHINEY and WOAH IS ME. After a while, I would be surprised if anyone came back to read. But I have to remind myself that the purpose of this blog is to work through my feelings about our situation and not necessarily for the enjoyment of my 3-4 readers. Yes I think i have that many readers, jealous? I am BIG TIME in the blog world.

My friend had her son's 1st birthday party this weekend and that morning she called to inform me that two of the chicks that will be there are expecting and one of them is already griping about being pregnant. Yay. I could tell she felt awkward and I hate that people feel that way about telling me something that would otherwise be happy news. I hate that people need to try and warn me if a pregnant woman will be within 20 feet of me, especially when I barely know the knocked up chicks. It makes me wonder sometimes why they tell me beforehand. Do they think if I didn't know and when it came up, I will burst into tears and run out the door screaming or make some kind of big scene, kidnapping babies to call my own on the way out? In reality, I know they don't know what I will do and are just trying to protect me.

Well, it isn't fun or happy, but just so you know, I will cry. Not in front of anyone but Josh. I have become the queen of holding myself together in front of people when fertility is involved. In my head, I will curse but on the outside I will smile and be as normal as I can possibly be. After my good cry, I will pull myself back together and think about the happy side of this, that someone else is pregnant. I will quit being selfish and only thinking of me me me and think about the other person and I am truly happy for them.

My therapist (infertility has driven me to seek professional help) thinks that I need to tell family and friends the best way to share this news with me. The problem is, I don't know that there is any way that would be better than the other so I am still working on that.

Here is my earliest draft:

Dear Friend and Family,

The following are acceptable ways to break the news to me that you are pregnant.

1. Send it in a letter by pigeon.
2. Singing telegram
3. Write it on a $100 bill and give that to me (to keep of course) I will also take anything over $100.
4. When you start to notice I have lost weight then you can tell me in person (only after telling me how good I look)
5. In Morose code
6. Call me when you are in labor
7. Just tell me but then promise me that I will be the kid's favorite person in the whole wide world and follow through after said kid is born
8. While on space mountain at Happiest Place on Earth
9. After I win the lottery
10. After I have my own perfect baby in my arms



Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The thing that actually broke me down.

After all that has happened over the past few years, I cannot believe that a dog is what is going to break me down.

A Little Background:
This past April my mom found some Collie puppies in the paper and after trying to convince my brother and his wife to get one with no luck, she set her sights on her youngest child (me). I was an easy catch. I mean who doesn't love puppies??? Especially after another miscarriage. I thought that if I got a puppy, I could get over the feeling of not being pregnant or having a baby. We thought Josh would be a hard sale so I sent in the big guns (MY MOM). After a 20 minute phone call she had Josh on board (SHE IS REALLY GOOD).
We got Max and I won't go into detail about his behavior but he is very reminiscent of Marley in "Marley and Me". He is a handful or as my dad likes to put it "he is a joy to be around".

I am the one who wanted the dog and I know that. Maybe that is why I am so stressed over it. And believe me, I am reminded every day by someone that I am the one who wanted the dog. And so I know he is MY responsibility but the only times I am not having to watch him so he doesn't tear up a chair or shit in my floor, is when he is outside. Yes, Josh's idea of watching the dog is watching tv or playing on the computer while the dog follows me around the kitchen while I make dinner. When I gripe, what does he do? He puts him in the backyard. That is not OK with me. I don't think it is right to just stick a dog in a backyard b/c you don't want to watch him/her.
Then I get the people who are dog experts or think they are looking down their noses at me saying "well he is a puppy. what did you expect?" Yes, I am a failure. I am not strong enough to handle a dog. I get it. I lose. Game Over. Next Please.

Everyone tells me how strong I am for what I have gone through the last few years. Well now they will get to say "Man, did you hear Kelley finally lost it? Yeah, the puppy pushed her over the edge and after all her infertility issues"

I will admit it. We weren't ready for a dog. This is all my fault. So here comes all the guilt. I am 30 years old and if I can't handle a puppy, how on earth would I handle a baby or babies? Maybe God knows what He is doing by not allowing me to have a child. I don't think I could mentally take it. Just having this dog is about to push me off the deep end.

Friday, June 18, 2010

The Fat Girl's Nemesis - THE GYM

So I finally got my butt back to the gym last night. It's funny b/c the anticipation is much worse than actually going. And I know that if I can just force myself to go that first time, I will actually enjoy it and start to get back in the routine. It is getting there that is the problem.

All day yesterday I kept thinking about how much I loathe the gym, how hot it is outside, how I have 10,000 other things I need to get done, how I wish I had gotten up early and gone before work and how I should just wait and start Monday. Anything and everything to talk myself out of going.

Then 4:30 came and it was go time. I dragged myself out of the sweet bliss of air conditioning in my office to get into a STEAMING 100+ hot car. I drove to the gym still debating in my head if I should go, my legs sticking to the hot seats (rethinking the decision to get leather seats in a black car in Texas). I am not going to lie, I pulled in and sat in my car thinking "I don't wanna" I was throwing a little girl fit in my head, pouting and all. But the "mature" side of my brain was saying "just go in and do it. You will fill tons better and will actually enjoy it" My immature side of the brain was now sticking its tongue out at the mature side. As in most cases, the mature side won and I went in and did 35 minutes on the elliptical. And just like my mom normally is, the mature side was right. I did enjoy it and I had tons of energy after to go to the store and get other things done around the house.

Monday, June 14, 2010

June 14th, 2010

Today would have been my due date. Normally I am really bad at dates but this date stuck with me because today is also my best friend's 30th birthday. I remember when the nurse told me the due date a sense of excitement came over me. As soon as she left, I turned to Josh and said "that is Steph's birthday. That is a sign from God that everything is going to be OK." I was so happy and could not wait to get through this appointment and call her to tell her the awesome news. But I never got the chance. Less than 5 minutes later that all changed when the Dr came in and couldn't find anything on the sonogram. My heart broke right there in that chair and it stayed broken for a very long time.

Today, 9 months later, my heart has mostly healed and my best friend is 30. Do I wish things had turned out differently? OF COURSE! Am I happy where I am today in my life with Josh, family and friends. I can honestly say "yes". (and this is the first time I have said this in the past 9 months) I am so proud of the person I am. I am stronger than I have ever imagined I could be. What I have been through the last few years has not only showed my strength but has also helped me realize how important it is to surround yourself with loving friends and family that will be there at your best and your worst.