Dizziness

It has been a year since I've been to the eye doctor, and I guess I wasn't as careful with my last year's supply of contact lenses as I thought I was. I figured I would end up with at least a couple of boxes left at the end of the year, but instead of being able to wait six months before visiting the optometrist, I was right on track. Much to my dismay, but not surprisingly, my prescription had changed slightly. I not only ordered myself another year's supply of contact lenses, but I splurged on a really cute pair of glasses, and my insurance completely covered the cost of a new pair of sunglasses.

The next morning at work (Friday morning), I was at my new best friend's desk having a good chat about eye prescriptions, when I decided both of us had better get back to work. I stood up to go, and fell over. The only reason I didn't fall to the floor was because my friend was sitting in the direction I fell. I didn't think much about it because I do actually have a tendency to fall asleep while moving when I don't get enough sleep for long periods of time. Yes, its very strange, I know. I will fall asleep while walking or moving for a few split seconds, complete with dreams, and then wake up. I figured my falling spell was one of those moments. However, when I got back to my desk I realized I was actually quite dizzy, but figured it would go away. About half an hour later I went to the loo, and as I was exiting the stall, had another dizzy spell where the only reason I didn't fall to the floor was because I was in a tiny bathroom stall. Now I was a teense worried, but still thought it was no big deal. After trying to battle the dizziness for the next few hours, and informing a few coworkers of my condition (one of whom informed my manager), I finally went and asked if I could please go home for the day. The response was that I could absolutely go. I took a 3-hour nap upon arriving home, but it did not help the dizziness one fig. I didn't let it completely ruin my night, however. We decided that instead of going to dinner, we would go get dinner and go home. By about 9:00 last night I was feeling well enough that we hit a movie, and I only regretted that decision for about 10 minutes after the lights were turned down and my head was spinning.

The only explanation I have for the dizziness is that I must have picked up a bug during my visit to Target Optical, or I had a very strange type of migraine, which wouldn't be unheard of seeing as I had one about two weeks ago where I lost all of the vision in my right eye for about an hour or so, and then spent the rest of the night being pretty much nauseous and sensitive to movement in any form. I've just never had a migraine that had dizziness as the only symptom.

I felt totally fine this morning, but at around 3:00 this afternoon the dizziness returned while we were at Lowes picking up yet a few more items for the house. Within about an hour of the dizzy onset, I was asleep in bed for the next two hours, and now I feel like I've just gone through a crazy workout at the gym. My muscles all feel fatigued, and my lungs feel like they've had a good workout. I guess I'll just ride it out over the weekend and see if it goes away. Hopefully I'll feel better by Monday because we are having a "team building" activity for work where the entire R&D team is going to the lake for the day. I would really hate to miss out on that, especially when they are counting on me bringing my inflatable kayaks. *sigh*

Throwing in the Towel

I realize that we haven't been trying for a baby as long as most people out there in infertility land, and I also realize that I am a slightly impatient person, but I have decided to throw in the baby towel. We've been trying for over two and a half years now. We did treatments for a year and a half, which ended with me undergoing pretty extensive surgery that included a moderate endometrial resection, removal of a uterine septum, and ovarian drilling. We decided after the surgery that we would take a year off of treatments to see if the surgery fixed our problems, and I admit, I was hopeful. Then last month I started spotting 7 days before AF was due. Of course, like a fool I got my hopes up just the teeniest tiniest bit, while the skeptical infertile in me kept my feet on the ground, so when AF did show up my bitterness increased and all hope of ever having children on our own went out the window.

The disappointment I felt with that wonky cycle far outweighed any disappointment I felt while undergoing treatments. While I was skeptical that each treatment would work, I still had hope that pregnancy would eventually happen, and so felt the urge and desire to continue. I always felt like even though I was in the infertile statistic, I would one day change to the statistic group where I underwent treatments successfully. But after my 7 days of spotting leading up to AF last month, I felt 100% completely hopeless. Yes, the bitterness of it all has finally set in. Then to top it off, I have spent more time spotting during the last 25 days than not for this current cycle. I honest to God no longer think that children are in our cards.

I realize that most people think that when you give up that is when babies happen. All I have to say to that is that those people have never been through what I've been through, and while I appreciate their optimism on my behalf, I would appreciate those words to be unspoken at this juncture of my life. I am already in a dark place, and those words at a time like this are not a comfort. I always used to think the way those people did; that if I just gave up it would happen. But now that I am to the point where I give up, I don't feel like it will happen. Ever.

I told my sweetie last week that I want to completely give up, but surprisingly, he wouldn't have it. He wants me to at least see a new doctor here and see what she has to say different from what my last two doctors said. To appease him, I will go. But I honestly do not feel like I will ever bear a belly rounded by a growing baby. The only rounded belly I will sport is the one that gets fatter and fatter despite my cutting back on sugary snacks and meal portions and daily 4-mile walks.

I do realize that there are other options, and that we probably only scratched the IF surface during our year and a half of treatments (yes, I lied and said we had been trying for a year when we started treatments because I knew we would have a hard time getting pg on our own), but to be honest, undergoing treatments made my life a hormonal living hell, and it will be a cold day in hell before I excitedly sign myself back up for that program.

Before we moved a couple of months ago I threw out the hundreds of condoms that we bought or were given when we first got married. Yesterday I threw out the Sponge contraceptives I found lurking in the corner of a drawer. I couldn't help but smile in that moment and think that the upside to not being able to get pg means we will never need contraceptives again. I will never need to go on birth control or get an IUD (intra-uterine contraceptive). We can pretty much do whatever we want whenever we want and never need to worry about putting a bun in the oven and the inconvenience of it all. Maybe not being able to have children isn't such a bad thing.

The other side of never having kids is whom do I leave all of my crap to when I pass over? Whom do I leave my grandmother's antique furniture? I want to raise a child and be the beaming mother of the bride or groom.

I guess its just time for me to leave everything baby behind and face the facts. My hope for a family is gone. I am not the first, and I won't be the last woman to go through this. I will just have to find fulfillment through my marriage, my family, my precious pooches, and the scads of money that will build up in my bank account. Now if I could just pull myself out of my current funk. I haven't been here for long, but I already hate it and want so badly to get away from it. I hate being in this mental place. Perhaps I should turn my thoughts from babies and funks to learning my new job and really excelling at what I do and really focusing on losing my newly blooming gut that makes people ask/wonder if I am expecting (I'm really not that big at a size 4, but apparently I'm big enough).

Enough dullness for one day. I'm off to read all of your happy blogs.

Another One Bites the Dust

This past week I finished yet another project around the house. We had company coming for the weekend, so I started painting our half bathroom last weekend. Although the before pictures below look nice, let me assure you, the color in the bathroom was NOT nice. It was a color that was close to a "pee" yellow. Not only that, but the ceiling was the same color as the walls, and the paint job was horribly done. There were spots all over the walls where the previous bathroom color peeked through the pee pee paint. The light switches and outlets in the pictures below are an upgrade we did upon moving in.

Before

After

Before

After

When I first stared painting the bathroom I wondered what I had done by choosing such a dark color. I was afraid I had turned the bathroom into a cave, but once I pulled the blue tape off the moldings, I really started to like the way the white items in the bathroom starkly contrasted the gray-blue paint. I have to admit, I love this new bathroom color.

We were supposed to be yet another step closer to finishing our house when all of our blinds showed up on Wednesday. Based on the way the whole day went on Wednesday, I should have cried that my blinds showed up that day because it was just not my day. As we began to unpack our 12 blinds we found that only two had survived the shipping undamaged. I was seriously upset, not only because they showed up damaged, but also because we ordered them a MONTH ago and they were shipped to the wrong place before they got to us. Then on top of that we had company coming this weekend and now had no window coverings. I believe I cried when I opened one of our three 9-foot blinds (which retails at $500) and found the head rail so torqued we couldn't hang it.

My project for this weekend is going to be to plant flowers in our front flower bed. I would normally spend the weekend cleaning the house from top to bottom while doing laundry, but I already cleaned everything during the week in anticipation of our company last night. For the first time since we moved in, I have nothing to do! I honestly don't know what to do with myself while I wait for heat of the day to subside so I can go plant flowers and take a walk with Mags.

I did fill up part of my morning going shopping for the puppy. We bought her a pink pooch collar, some puppy toys, and a gold engraved dog tag, which leads me to the dog's chosen name. First, I would like to thank all of you who voted on the puppy name poll. I did take the poll into consideration over the past week and a half and still waffled despite my firm resolution to go with the name chosen by the poll. One night I was talking to my dad and was telling him that I really wanted to name the dog Sadie. I told him that while most people would associate my finding her name on the day Roo died as a bad association, I actually thought of it as a positive association. To me it is like a little piece of Roo will live on because this pup's name came about by an inspiring moment on an otherwise cruel day. My dad told me that he felt I should call the pup Sadie. The next day I spoke with my new best friend about it, and she went one step further; she told me I should name the pup Sadie Roo. So in honor of my lost little Roo, the new pup's name is going to be Sadie Roo.

I think I will take the next hour or so of my completely free time to check out all of your blogs. I hope you all have a fun, safe Memorial Day weekend.

Texas Flora and Fauna

After a very long and busy weekend working on household projects such as hanging pictures, painting bathrooms, multiple trips to Lowes, and performing painful yard work, I treated my achy feet and sweet pooch to a nice, long walk. Last week I discovered the most wonderful little path that begins next to my house and goes all the way to the town square maybe 2 or so miles from my house.

You would think that a walk after two full days of strenuous work would be the last thing I wanted to do, but I took a few pictures of tonight's walk to show you all why such an idea is so appealing. The first picture is the view you get as you first embark on the most amazing journey. You walk right out of town into the "woods." You are instantly cut off from all sounds of traffic, and instead you hear little lizards and bunnies skittering around in the bushes.

The first wildlife we spotted on our walk was a bright red cardinal. I took a picture of him, but it didn't turn out well at all, and he flew off after his first Kodak moment.

I couldn't help but stop and take a sweet little picture of Mags as she tries to figure out what is rustling in the bushes nearby.

We continued our walk down the path lit by the sun as it was quickly setting beyond the horizon. We were encased by the twitterings and chirps of birds.

The next wildlife we came upon was a small herd of geese. These birds are apparently not afraid of humans at all because they paused and checked us out as we took their picture. Maggie sat quietly by my side.

Next up on our nature walk was a mom Mallard duck and her three little chicks. You'll have to excuse the fuzziness of the picture. All of these were taken with my phone camera and its limited capabilities.

This little shot is one of my most favorite parts of the walk. For some reason it makes me think of the movie "Wizard of OZ."

As we exited the "OZ" field, we came across two little bunnies. One of them was kind enough to hold the classic "chocolate bunny" pose before he bounded off on his merry way.

We weren't fortunate enough to get any pictures of the other wildlife we passed because the family of turtles we found blended too well into the water for my phone camera, and then there was a herein, but he was flying high overhead when we saw him.

We do get nightly and daily visits from lizards at our house though. One of my favorites is this little guy.

He suns on our window ledge almost daily and loves to pose for the camera. He and I will sit for minutes on end taking each other in every time I spot him on his ledge. He never runs away when he sees me, but turns his head and looks right at me. We also see the occasional gecko crawling around eating flys on our screens at night.

I will never get tired of the wildlife that is so abundant and so close to my new home. It makes me want to go out and walk every day just to see what new animal I will discover.

Roo

Okay, so I was barely home yesterday, and when I was I didn't have time to post, as promised in my previous post. I am sure that you all care and are so distraught that I didn't post yesterday. :p

As per my promise, this post is all about my first Border Collie, Roo.

In 2001, the day after Thanksgiving my childhood dog of 14 years had to be put down due to old age. Brisbee was a black, tan, and white Sheltie. I had picked her out when I was only 8 years old, and grew up spending every single moment I could devote of my life to her. While I was sad to let Brisbee go, I knew that had lived a long, full live.

I am the type of person who loves my dogs like they are my children. I spoil and pamper them. I spent oodles of money buying them toys, dog training, high grade dog food, etc. However, my life is so empty if I am not sharing it with a pooch, which means I can't go long between one dog passing and getting another one. Life is just too damn depressing for me if I don't have a canine companion. I don't get one dog to replace another. Replacement is impossible. I get one dog to fill the gigantic void left by the other dog passing.

In February of 2002 I decided I really needed a dog to fill the empty chasm in my heart, and had decided I wanted a Border Collie because they are the smartest dogs in the world. Yes, they really are. I am not just saying that. For weeks I perused the thrifties looking for BC pups, and then one day I found a breeder who sold red and white pups for the same price as black and white pups and decided I was ready to take a look. My dad and I hopped in the car and went over to check out the two female pups that were left in the litter. The second the breeder opened the gate, Roo came running straight for me and never left my side the entire time we were there. Her sister never came over to even check us out, which sealed the deal as far as I was concerned.

At Roo's first vet visit my vet pointed out that Roo had an overshot jaw. This means that her top jaw was a lot longer than her bottom jaw. You could put your finger between her top and bottom teeth when her mouth was closed. I didn't care. Roo picked me, and I was so in love with my pup. To this day I think she picked me because she knew I would love her no matter what, and she was right.

Over her short 3.5 year lifetime we attended hundreds of dollars worth of dog classes just because it was time for us to bond. She was always the top dog in her class. She was the only dog who would stay when I told her to stay and would walk out of sight. She always caught on to new commands faster than the other dogs. But above all of that, she had a love and respect for me that even Maggie doesn't exhibit. She would always look me right in the eyes while we were training with a look that said, "I love you so much I will do exactly what you tell me to do." We were so close that I started taking her everywhere I could possibly take her, including on long hikes up in the canyons. She was my baby dog. When I fed her, I held her bowl in my hands because it was "our time." I would even sing to her while she ate. She had this way of wagging her tail when she saw me that just exuded her love for me. She would wag her tail so hard her whole body would bend in half and her tail would smack her in the face. It always warmed my heart beyond words. Whenever we would sit down next to each other, she would put her paw on me, signifying that I was hers, and she did this from the first day that I brought her home.

When I got married Roo stayed at my dad's house with his dog whom she had grown up with and was bosom buddies with. It seemed cruel to separate them, so I didn't. Then one day, after I had been married for three weeks, my dad called me and told me that Roo wasn't eating. Since she had been known to do it before, I didn't panic. I told my dad just to watch her over the next couple days and let me know if anything changed. However, I decided the next morning that I had better go check on her. When I called her over to the gate I knew instantly that she was extremely ill. I packed her into the car right away and rushed her to the vet, who has been a family friend since before I was born. He wasn't sure what was going on, but told me he needed to put her on an IV. She ended up spending the whole weekend at the vet on IVs, and on Monday we thought she was well enough to go home. Her condition never improved, but just kept getting worse. It was about the third or fourth day that I really started to panic and wonder if she would make it.

The last day of her life my vet called me at 7:00 in the morning and told me he hadn't been able to sleep all night because he was thinking about my dog and wanted me to bring her in for x-rays right away. It was at this point I knew we were in trouble. When the vet called me in to look at the x-ray I knew it was worse than I thought, and it took all I had to keep from crying. Roo had a genetic defect that caused her to have a hole in her diaphragm, and the x-ray revealed that her intestines had made their way into her chest cavity. I still held out hope that my baby would make it. My vet had to leave town that afternoon, so he handed me Roo's x-rays and rushed me to another vet with a note, asking them to perform surgery ASAP.

When I got to the next vet's office, they locked Roo and me in an examination room for about an hour before we were finally seen. They told me that they didn't think Roo stood a chance, that they could operate, but that it would cost me $8,000 and her chances of survival were only 10%. It was at that moment that I realized my dog might not see the end of the day. I asked to be left alone to call my dad and husband to decide what I wanted to do. I looked into Roo's copper eyes and just bawled. I just didn't understand how my dog who was not even 4 years old could be dying. We had so much ahead of us, it was impossible that she could be dying. I was supposed to have 10 more years. I called my dad, and as much as he loved my dog, he told me that I needed to consider putting her down. Of course I cried hysterically and told him I couldn't do it, she was too young. Even writing it about it is making my sob.

I decided $8K was too much, but that I was not willing to let her go yet, so I packed her back up in her crate very much against the vet's wishes and drove her to my apartment where I carried her in her crate up three flights of stairs while I sobbed. Because of the situation, Roo had lost control of her bowel movements, and I had decided if I was going to put her down, she wasn't going to be covered in poop, so I took her home to bathe her and let the knowledge that our time was fast coming to an end sink in. While I sat with her and cried, Hubs called around to different vet's offices to see if we could take her for a second opinion. One vet gave us hope, so we carried my baby dog back to the car and off to the vet.

The new vet's diagnosis was not as grim as the previous one, and the price tag started at only $800 to open her up and see what they could do. I told Hubs I could not let Roo go without trying, and opted for surgery. I will never forget those last few minutes I had with my little Roo. She was laying on her dog bed near the surgery, her eyes never left me. I don't know if she knew it was over, or if she didn't understand why I was abandoning her in this strange place. It took every thing I had in me to walk away, sobbing and wondering if I would see those bright copper eyes looking at me ever again.

A few hours later I got the phone call. Roo was not going to make it. Too much of her intestines had died, and even if the surgery was a success, her life would be miserable. I asked them to please keep her alive long enough for me to come tell her goodbye, then called my dad and asked him to meet us at the vet's office. When we go the vet, the escorted us back into the surgery where Roo lay unconscious on the operating table. I sobbed and pet my baby girl for the last time, and then allowed them to put her down. I just could not believe that my little dog was gone. How was it possible that her life was cut so short?

I am also one of those people who believes that everything happens for a reason. I believe that Roo and I were supposed to be together, and as horrible as it sounds and makes me feel, I feel like her life was supposed to be short so that I would end up with Maggie. Mags was born 13 days after Roo died from the same mother as Roo. Maggie was also the last litter from Red, who also happened to be the breeder's favorite dog (so much his favorite that he had Red tattooed on his arm). Maggie shares a lot of the same characteristics as Roo, yet she is a completely different dog. I love the days when I can look at Maggie and see a part of Roo. Because I have Maggie, Roo is not gone. A little piece of her lives on in Mags.

She Has Arrived

My pup has been born! I got a phone call from the breeder yesterday informing me that he had a female pup for the taking and that he had sent me pictures of her so I could take a look and see if we were interested. I immediately went out and checked my email to take a peek at the pup affectionately dubbed, "Lorna." Yes, her name will change ASAP, and that will be addressed later in this blog entry. After viewing the sweet little puppy pictures below, I called the breeder back to ask what number she was in the litter, hoping she was the runt, but alas, she was born right in the middle. I had hoped for the runt because they are usually the smartest and snuggliest dogs, but the fact that she is not the runt can be got over. Maggie is the runt in her litter, and I picked her out when she was only 3 weeks old. The thing that is funny to me is that the new pup looks the same size at a few days old as Maggie did at 3 weeks.

Now the moment you've been waiting for, pictures of the new pup:

I love the fact that her white collar doesn't go all of the way around her neck. Maggie's doesn't either. I also love the fact that this pup's white socks go all of the way up her arms. In many ways this pup reminds me of Maggie's half sister, Roo.

Can you believe that they come so small?!

She almost looks like a little guinea pig. What a sweet baby.

Now for the naming. I know that my poll showed the favorite name for the new pup was Molly, and we had every intention of naming her Molly, but have decided against it for a couple of reasons; the first being whenever I thought of the new pup, I kept thinking of her as Sadie. The second reason is that we thought Molly might be too phonetically close to Maggie, and the dogs would get confused. Hubs doesn't care for the name Sadie, and truth be told, I don't like where I got the name.

I will post the full story tomorrow in a post completely dedicated to my first Border Collie, Roo, who was a very, very special pooch. But to keep from going into a long story now, I got the name Sadie from the day that Roo died. I was sitting in the vets office just after I had let her go, and the nurse came in with a book of options so I could choose what I wanted to do with Roo's body. I chose cremation so that I could always keep her with me, and in this book was a page where I could pick the box I wanted to have her put into. The name on the box in the picture was "Sadie." I really like the name Sadie, but I am afraid it will always remind me of the day the Roo died. Hubs and my little brother both voted against Sadie for that reason, which leaves us with Sidney.

Now I turn to my blog friends and readers again. I know you have all already voted on the puppy's name, but I hope you all understand the reason for putting the name to a vote again. This time there are only two options that are not phonetically close in sound to Maggie, and they are Sadie and Sidney. I am torn because I really like the name Sadie, and I like it better than Sidney, but I am afraid it will remind me of the day Roo died. So please take a moment and hit the poll one last time to help me make the final name decision.

A New Game

Barb over at Fertility Challened in Florida has challenged me to a new game. It was almost prophetic on her part due to the subject of yesterday's post. Perhaps its her way of telling me she's tired of the depressing posts. ;) So for a bit of fun and a change from the darkness, I give you my response to her challenge.

4 Things I Did 10 Years Ago (1998)

1. The biggest thing that sticks out in my mind from 1998 is that I was still getting over the breakup of my first love, the only other guy I have ever loved besides my husband, and the only other guy to ever hear the "L" word from my lips. Because I was still getting over him, I refused to date anyone because I just wanted to be left alone by guys.
2. My view of myself and who I was did a complete 180 and for the first time in my life I realized what a wonderful person I was and began to love me just the way I was. I learned more about myself and life in that year than any other year of my existence, and all thanks to losing my first love. I wouldn't change a thing.
3. Once my ban on dating lifted I had the summer of "NCMOs" (Non-Commital Make Outs). I made out with guys all summer long just for the fun of making out.
4. That fall at college I dated a guy who would become one of my very best friends up until I met and married my sweetie. Even though we ended up living in different states, he would still travel down to spend the weekend with me on occasion.

4 Things I Did 5 Years Ago (2003)

1. I was cementing my best friendship with my new best friend who is one of the most wonderful guys I've ever known. We would go out every Friday and have some of the best fun I've ever had. We were totally carefree and up for anything. We usually ended up having deep conversations over dinner and going to hilarious movies or just hanging out about downtown. He stood in as best man at one of our wedding receptions (we had two).
2. I went on a blinde date with a guy who was a Marine and decided I thought he would be worth looking into, only to have him called away to active duty three days later. I got a call from my cousin, who had set me up with the Marine, 6 months later to ask on behalf of the Marine if I still wanted to date him when he got home. That began another 3 months of correspondence while I waited (and dated 3 other guys non-commitally) for him to get home so I could see if he was what I thought he had the potential to be. He wasn't. LOL! But the makeouts sure were fun while they lasted! >:D
3. I frequently took my pooch, Roo, on hikes up in the mountains with my best friend. Our favorite hike was when we got caught in a downpour and were all completely soaked by the time we got back to the car.
4. I really can't think of anything else that happened in that year.

4 Things I Did Yesterday

1. I went to dinner at a local Texmex restaurant and shared chicken fajitas with Hubs on the patio.
2. I played fetch with Maggie until she fell down from exhaustion.
3. I FINALLY got to play my new SIMS 2 Vacation expansion pack.
4. I called my dad and cried because I miss him.

4 Shows I Love to Watch

1. Little People, Big World
2. Jon and Kate Plus 8
3. Ghost Hunters
4. Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares

4 Things I Love to Do

1. Snuggle with Hubs
2. Snuggle with Maggie
3. Sleep
4. Spend money (per Hubs [he thinks this should be #1])

I tag (if you see this post and want to play): Mel, from Lost, But Still Wandering; Mel, from Where's My Belly?; KEI, from Hoping for Grace; and Kara.

And So It Begins

Since it became obvious to me last weekend that becoming parents without the aid of modern medicine was not a real possibility, I went to a new fellow co-worker who recently had twins after undergoing light infertility treatments to seek out a referral. With the phone number in hand, I dialed the doctor's office and held back my tears long enough to request a new patient appointment for the next available spot one month from now. For one month I get to decide what I want to do next. Do we even try to conceive next month? Do I go buy OPKs like I had planned on doing for the past two months? Do I try to get my hands on progesterone so we can try? I still don't understand how this roller coaster has docked back on my front door step after everything we've already gone through. How I can be facing all of this again after my surgery 7 months ago? But here I am.

Its in moments like these that I go into a bit of depression and wonder why people who don't want children can have them. Why people who have children and mistreat them can have them. But people like me, who will go to these horrible lengths to become parents just can't seem to catch a break. I would like to say a big part of the reason I feel this way is because of all of the stress I've been under lately with the move and new job, but God's honest truth is that I feel this way because I can't believe after the last 2 years I am right back where I started. I feel like all of the hope I felt after my surgery has been dashed, and all I want to do is cry. Yesterday at work I holed up in my cubicle with my headphones on and rejected all social interaction. Not because I am bitter, but because I am just plain disappointed.

I can't help but allow thoughts that maybe this all just too much trouble, and that maybe it just isn't worth it. I think to myself that maybe I really need to throw in the towel and call it quits. Perhaps I need to realize that my life will never include children of my own that I will get to raise and watch grow up. There will be no weddings, no grandchildren, no one to pass my grandmother's heirlooms onto. It all just seems so unfair.

At what point do I give up? I'm not willing to give IVF a go because I can't justify spending that kind of money on the off chance I MIGHT get pregnant. I couldn't handle the small potatoes in the infertility world as it was; things like FSH shots, every-other-day ultrasounds to check my ovaries, HCG triggers, chlomid, birth control, etc. I hated who those things made me and the way they made me feel compounded with the monthly disappointments. So do I give up now? Do I go to the doctor here and seek out a third opinion? If I don't like the third opinion, do I seek out a fourth? At what point do I draw the line?

I think this recent setback is going to be the absolute hardest to get over. I could handle it better when I would do the full gamut of treatments and end up with nothing but a hormonal, crazy me. I could handle it when our IUI didn't work. But I don't know if I can handle this. I was never as depressed after those treatments failed as I am about this. I never pulled into my shell the way I did the last couple days at work. I don't even want to talk to anyone about this or about anything at all. Maybe it is the setback compounded by the stress of the past couple months. Then again, maybe it belongs 100% to itself. To top it all off, my close-knit support group is gone. The people who helped me through the past year and a half are now thousands of miles away. The doctor I trusted is thousands of miles away. My smiling, hopeful, helpful, caring doctor. This just plain sucks.

So here I stand, at this precipice, wondering, waiting, thinking, deciding.... What is my next step? What do I want my next step to be? Maybe it just isn't in my cards.

Baby Blues

I guess I should have known better than to get my hopes up even a little bit when I noticed I was spotting 7 days after I know I ovulated, but I couldn't help but hope just a little bit. Everything I read said that spotting at 7 dpo (days past ovuldation) was most likely an indication of implantation. I had had feelings lately that also helped get my hopes up, such as when I was trying to find places for all of our things in a house that has an almost complete lack of storage. Not knowing where else to put things, I began to load up the closet in the room that I hope will one day become a nursery. The entire time I was loading it up I had a nagging feeling that I shouldn't put anything in there because I would just have to move it back out in a few months. I chose to ignore the feeling and just kept right on packing our things in, and the feeling persisted. I still ignored it, and the closet is still packed full of items that I have no idea where else to put them. Usually feelings like that for me are not wrong. The last time I had a feeling that strongly about something it was after I got the first call for my new job. I just KNEW after I hung up the phone that first time that this job was mine. I even told Adam one night after my first over-the-phone interview that I knew this was it, the job we had been waiting for, even though I still had three more rounds in the interview process to go. It just felt right.

Last Monday when I saw the first signs of spotting, my heart leaped. It didn't even occur to me to think that it could be my old friend Low Progesterone coming back to visit. The only time I spotted the 7 days leading up to my unwanted visitor was while we were actually undergoing hormone injections. I had never experienced that at any other time. I also had not had that issue since my surgery 6 months ago. But by the time Friday rolled around and the spotting had not only not let up but gotten worse, I called my sister to see if she had ever had the problem with any of her babies. It was then that she suggested perhaps it was a low progesterone issue. My heart sank as I realized she was more than likely right on. The most frustrating part about all of it is that I had almost every single symptom of pregnancy, right down to the slight nausea, sensitivity to smells, and tender, enlarged "girls."

Needless to say, my unwanted visitor has now showed up further cementing the theory about the issue at hand. This saddens me on so many levels. Not only does it mean I am not pregnant and am back to not trusting my own body signs, but I now have to find a new doctor to discuss my options. It became clear as a bell that having a baby on our own is just not a reality. After everything I went through for the last two years and the surgery last October, I am right back where I started. I had not only hoped to not need to find an infertility doctor down here, but I had hoped that I would at least be able to take the rest of this year off of treatments to just try on our own. However, with this past week's symptoms, it is obvious to me that if I want pregnancy to happen at all this year, I will have to find a new doctor and at the very least get onto some kind of progesterone supplement.

I know this blog sounds like such a downer after my last positive and upbeat post, but rest assured I am not depressed. I just reserve the right to be a little disappointed today in light of last week. Like every other month where it became apparent my treatment days weren't done, I reserve the right to be a little blue and wonder if motherhood is ever going to be in the cards for me.

On a much lighter note, I finally finished completely unpacking the kitchen and breakfast area yesterday and those spaces are finally usable! We even broke in the new kitchen by making nachos last night, and Hubs made breakfast burritos this morning. We also got almost all the rest of our outlets changed out yesterday and only have half a dozen or so to go before that project is complete. It is amazing the difference something as small as changing out outlets makes. It just modernizes the house to me and makes me feel so much more comfortable here. We still have to change out a couple more ceiling fans and light switches, but those will be easy tasks once Hubs isn't busy with work.

Even better than that, my little brother is flying out next weekend to check out the new digs, hang out, and just plain party. I can't wait to have my baby brother here to show him around, taking him out for some of the most awesome food he's ever eaten, and let him experience the real Texas outside of the two military bases he has been installed on here. It will be a weekend full of creating new weekend traditions for his many future visits.

Outside of Babyland, life is getting to be as perfect as it can get.