The Best of Times. The {semi}Worst of Times.

I feel horrible even writing this post.

This weekend was a combination of amazingness/jealously/sadness/blah. But mostly amazingness.

It all started on Friday morning when my best group of girlies were headed out to Palm Springs for a Bachelorette party. We rented a HUGE house right in the heart downtown of Palm Springs, fully stocked with booze, pool, food, and lady loves! I was excited to be heading out there with my best friend {who was in town from San Fran} and her sister. It would give us time to catch up.

{Side note:: my BFF has an almost 3 year old and has been trying to get pregnant with her second for over a year. She is having issues like myself and just went to the a fertility specialist who told her she is probably having hormonal issues and will need lots of blood work and hormones. She was excited to get answers and start the process of everything next month. I was excited for her too that she had answers and a starting point.}

So its 7:00am and we made a pit stop at 7-11. Her sis gets out of the car and my BFF turns to me and says, “I have some really exciting news…” {you obviously know where this is going}. YUP. She is pregnant. {Way too early to tell your infertile BFF that you are having a baby in 9 months}. She randomly took a test the day before we left just because, and it turned out to be positive. Dumb on her part. I mean who takes a pregnancy test before a bachelorette weekend filled with fun and Beer Olympics?? You wait until you get home people! After all that worry and doctors appointments and having sex maybe only once that month she winds up pregnant. Before me. Without me. We had even talked about being pregnant together at this friends bachelorette party and wedding. How that would suck, but would also be really cool. We had blah blah blahed about it on more than one occasion. Pretty ironic if you ask me. {ps if you know who my BFF is please don’t say anything. she is obviously not telling people yet. and don’t tell her you heard it from me. thanks. ha}

Annyyywhhooo I know I sound like a total bitch. Sorry. I am really so happy for her. And I love her so much. I am happy she doesn’t have to live life as an infertile anymore, but at the same time I am really aggravated with my own situation and it brings back all those negative emotions that I have been working so hard to get over. I know I am wallowing in self pity and its not a good look, but I don’t know how to stop at the moment. It feels again like another ally, another infertile, another empathetic person is now on the other side of the fence. At least she lives in San Fran and I don’t have to see her growing belly or talk baby talk everyday. I know. I’m a bitch.

I was somewhat distant from her the rest of the weekend even though we were sharing a room and a bed. I didn’t want to hear about it. I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to pretend that it wasn’t happening. I didn’t bring the subject up again after we exited the 2 1/2 hour car ride. I walked out of the room every time she was making an announcement of why her drink of choice for the weekend was O’Douls. Of course I put on a brave face and acted somewhat excited, but other than that I was mute about the subject. I know this is horrible, but I don’t know how to deal. In my heart I guess I knew she would get pregnant before me, but I didn’t want to believe it. So now I am having to go through my grieving process all over again, like a person who has relapsed in AA. Although I would say I am not back at step 1. Probably only a step 3. In the end I know I will learn to be truly happy for her.

Other than that the weekend was the best girls weekend ever. LIKE EVER. We had such a great time and I wish I could go on about it all day, but you know what they say… what happens in Palm Springs. Stays in Palm Springs. Unless your best friend tells you she is knocked up. Then that goes on the blog.

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LOL Thursdays

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10-ish Things Fun Enough To Cheer Up Infertiles::

Reblogged from Dog’s Aren’t Kids:

Infertiles are the most angry, bitter, resentful, bitchy, pissed off, and judgmental people in the world. And since “God” made us this way, I blame her. Yes her.

That being said, it takes a lot to cheer us up. Like a lot, a lot. None of this “Awww it’s just a bad day, not a bad life” shit. You shut your whore mouth. A bad day? Stubbing your toe is a bad day. Getting a flat tire is a bad day. Infertility is a bad life.

Basically, this list is made of magic. And because I created it, I’m like Tinkerbell. Oh! I’m totally like Tinkerbell. She can be a real, moody bitch.

1. Alcohol. All kinds of alcohol. Beer, wine, champagne, the hard stuff, the fruity stuff, the cheap stuff. Since it’s a depressant, you will feel like pure shit after it wears off, so probably you should just take a shot every couple hours to be safe.

2. Coloring. But it has to be a real coloring book with a real box of crayons. No printed shit, and no colored pencils. Those are for children. Crayons are for real adults with real problems.

3. Remind yourself that pregnant women can’t run. So if there is a zombie apocalypse or a modern version of The Hunger Games, you can just push them over and keep on running.

4. Pick your nose and eat it. In public. The reactions you get will distract you for a solid 10 minutes.

5. Start singing the theme song for “Fresh Prince of Bel Air” and feel accomplished when you realize you still know it. Then feel sad when you realize Uncle Phil just died 😦 But then take another shot and feel happy again.

6. Cocaine.

7. Just kidding.

8. Remind yourself you’re not dying. Unless you are. Then I’m sorry and you need an entirely different list.

9. Have some sex? I don’t know. I’m running out of ideas. How about tell your spouse you want to eat things off of them, you know.. as a fun sex thing? Eat all the things, then “accidentally” fall asleep from the food coma. That seems fun.

10. If you don’t drink or eat delicious things or do drugs or don’t like fun, then you’re hopeless and there is no help for you. Go cry in a closet somewhere.

Byeeeee!

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{I inserted this amazing gif. thanks.}

 

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Dogs Aren’t Kids

{This post is inspired by new favorite bloggers name…}

I have been thinking lately about our pets, mainly dog pets. Aka furbabies, aka granddogger, aka bitch, aka mans best friend. And how they become part of our families, how they become like our babies, how they fill that snuggle spot and comfort us in times of need.

Many people literally treat their dogs like they are their kids.

They get mad at you when your dog snips at their out of control kid dog.

They throw outrageous birthday parties for their kids dogs.

They dress their kids dogs up.

They feed their kids dogs the most expensive high end food.

They get defensive about their kid dog if you say something critical.

They throw balls and Frisbees for their kids dogs.

They snuggle with their kids dogs.

They play with their kids dogs.

They whisper sweet nothings into their kids dogs ears.

They pick up after their kids dogs.

They kiss their kids dogs.

They take pictures of their kids dogs and post them on instagram.

They clean up their kids dogs shit.

 

At the end of the day most of us know a dog isn’t a kid, no matter how much we might treat them like they are a missing limb. A dog is a dog is a dog {and ya’ll know I am a dog person and this is coming from someone without kids, with a dog}.  It’s funny how the same friends who once treated their dogs like kids have suddenly forgotten about the love they had for their kid dog once they have actual kids. Almost over night after having babies their once beloved pet becomes 2nd hand news. They fall to the wayside. How easy it is to forget the love of our precious mates. {Don’t worry give them all to me so I can start a small kid dog farm. Hubs would love that}.

For me, I love my dog and I try to relate to my mom friends by somewhat comparing my Dorie to their baby. People don’t like this very much and the conversation usually goes something like this:

“Ugh. You know what really bugs me? When so-and-so compares her dog to my kid. Or when so-and-so refers to his or her dog as his or her kid. Dogs are not kids! She has NO IDEA what it means to have a kid!”  You know what? Unless “so-and-so” needs professional help, I guarantee “so-and-so” knows that her dog is not a human child. She also knows that having a dog is nothing like having a kid. What she’s really saying is “Oh! Yes. I also have something in my life that shits on things AND brings me joy.” She is trying to relate to you and be a part of your life — the life where all you do is talk about your kids. I know that it’s hard to relate when you have kids and your friends don’t. What were once close relationships can become sporadic meet-ups where you do your best to try and catch up with someone with whom you have very little in common anymore. Sure, you two were best buds in college, but now you have very different lives. So, when “so-and-so” offhandedly, and perhaps awkwardly, tries to relate to your story about picking poo out of your bangs by comparing it to scraping dog shit out of the carpet, cut her some slack. She’s just trying to be nice. And she misses you. {thanks huffington post}

So we get it. Dogs are dogs. Kids are kids. But at the end of the day those little lovers where the first experience most of us had at  learning how to parent, love, discipline, and keep another living thing alive. So love the shit out of them.

Thanks.

doriedog

 

 

 

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What Now…

I can’t believe our journey is over… for now anyways. With our second failed IUI we have decided to cool it for awhile and enjoy life together. For us the next steps in trying to have a baby will come at a great cost and lots of major decisions. I don’t think hubs and I are ready for all that right now. I am definitely taking time to grieve and be sad, but I am not letting it control my life.

Ways to console ones self:

* buy a new handbag. I bought hubs bought me a new Kate Spade purse and wallet that I have been wanting for a long time. I even got a cream colored one since I won’t be having a baby that will spit up or poop on it anytime soon.

* get a new car. Yes we bought a new car. All the bells and whistles. I am in LOVE. { thanks bro and sis in law} I am making up excuses to drive it everywhere. “Honey are you sure you don’t need me to run to Target again?”

* get a chocolate malt from Cold Stone. Chocolate helps everything. It may be the cause of some of my woes, but it is the cure as well.

* dance your booty off. We had a wedding yesterday and it was great to just let it all out on the dance floor.

* drink more wine than usual. Have 4 glasses instead of 2.

* tan it out. Vitamin D is good for the soul.

* convince hubs we need another puppy. Dorie dog for sure needs a fur brother or sister.

Hubs was sweet and brought me flowers and a card when everything went down, but we really hadn’t had a conversation about what’s next. As we were sitting at the pool yesterday in silence Hubs says, “We are so blessed.” He went on to point out all the good we have in our life, how fortunate we are to have such a loving and caring family, how blessed we are to have a beautiful home, and how lucky we are to have found love with each other. That is all enough for me, he said. He told me he loves me no matter what, and that if we never have children he will still love me the same {even when I am acting like a poop sandwich}… I realized he was right. We have soooo much to be thankful for.

I am looking forward to focusing on myself. I am looking forward to focusing on my husband. I am looking forward to not peeing on a stick every day of my life, and not reading pregnancy forums, and not being stressed about “is this the month?!”, and not laying in bed for 30 minutes after the deed with my legs in the air, and not having some doctor be up in my privates every week. Most importantly, I am looking forward to having sex with my husband whenever I want to just because I want to! I don’t know what the future holds for us. I don’t know how our journey with infertility will end. All I know is that I kind of can’t wait for what is next.

moveon

 

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Post 10.

We just got back from a great mini vaca in San Felipe, Baja Mexico. This is our special place. It is not only where my husband and I met, but this is where I have had some of my best memories. This is a place where we come to relax, celebrate, and be around the ones we love most.

I was looking forward to this trip for a few reasons- lets be honest, I was really excited because I was right in the middle of my 2 week wait and I knew I was not going to be able to jump on my phone every minute to check if what I am feeling is “normal”. It was nice to be down there and forget about time and reality for a split second. I even got talked into working out a few days while I was there! { I have been making up excuses for a year as to why I can’t workout while trying to get pregnant. I am scared of starting a new routine because it might make me miscarry blah blah blah}. I didn’t even worry about it this time around. What will be, will be. I also wasn’t tempted to drink- I just sipped my O’douls like a champ. I am mainly doing this to keep my body clean and my Dr.  had also recommended not to drink during IUI cycles. So all in all Baja was a great way to pass the time.

Although I couldn’t wait to hang out with family and friends, the weekend started out with a tiny bit of anxiety for me. I was the only non-preggo to be on this trip {what have these girls been drinking?!} I was surrounded by 3 other girls who are all bumpin’-  I guess I hadn’t really thought about what my feelings might be in regards to vacationing with all pregnant girls while I was in my 2 week wait. Of course there was a lot of mama talk, but surprisingly enough I didn’t want to drown myself in the bay after the first couple minutes. I think it helped that they treated me like I was part of the club. They all knew I was in my limbo waiting period and they made me feel hopeful that this was our month. {I really hope their belly dust rubbed off on me.} I forgot to mention there were 2 adorbs babies down there as well- one being my nephew 🙂 Being around them solidified that I really do want to be a mom, but also made me understand why you need 9 months to mentally prepare yourself for the undertaking of being a patient and loving parent- especially when your baby is teething, crying all night, and being a stage 5 clinger. Just sayin’- you need to know you really want this life. If I am being totally honest with myself, I am not completely ready to give up some of my selfishness yet. I know it will change real quick, but I found myself feeling thankful on this trip that I could check out anytime I wanted to hang in the hammock and read my 700 page book.

I think this trip was a little bit of a test for me and I am happy to say that I feel myself getting emotionally stronger every day.  I am incredibly thankful that we have our little special spot where we can go to escape, regroup, and let go…

sanfelipe

 

 

 

 

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