For Leah and Taher

For those of you who have not yet visited the fabulous Leah's blog of Life According to Leah, I highly recommend you do so. Leah and her husband, Taher, are in the process of adopting internationally after two unsuccessful rounds of IVF. While we do not know each other IRL, we have become friends via our blogs as well as email. I feel like we have made a real connection with each other. At one point, I seriously considered being an egg donor for her, until my sister reminded me that I have endometriosis and am classified as an infertile and no one would take my eggs. Oh yeah.

Since I could not give her my eggs, and she issued the call for friends and family to donate items she could raffle off on her blog in an attempt to raise money for her adoption, I answered. Today I got to spend the morning with a good friend of mine doing what we like to do best together: paint ceramics at our local Co.lor.Me.Mi.ne. I painted what I hope is a lovely vase for her cause. I have one almost just like it that I did for myself a few months back, and it has had nothing but praise filled with "oohs" and "ahhhs". Since apparently so many people liked it, I made a replica for Leah to raffle off. Below are a few pictures of the item pre-firing. Once it is fired, the colors will be very dark and vibrant, and the piece will shine.

Here is the piece "in the nude", or in its bisque state.

It has good shape and form. Perfect for raffling.

First, I drew out my basic pattern with a marker that will disappear during the firing phase.

I painted the bottom a very deep, beautiful blue.

I then painted over my patern with a chocolate brown.

Next, I began painting the first of three colors for the flowers.

(You can see my fabulous friend in the background to the right. We shared all sorts of gossip.)

The flowers have all been painted, and the vase is almost all ready for firing.

It just needs one final touch....

A reminder to the winner that they helped Leah and Taher adopt!

I can't wait to see it and post pictures of the piece once it has been fired. The colors will look totally different.

I hope you like it Leah. I thoroughly enjoyed painting the vase for you and the joy that it brought me in being able to spend time with my friend.

Artificial Insemination

It's time again for an old blog post from my MySpace blog. This one relates the details of our first and only artificial insemination. It is interesting to me to read back over these old posts and remember the thoughts and feelings of that day. I am so glad all of this is behind us, and I hope and pray we don't ever have to do it again.

Friday, August 31, 2007
Artificially Inseminated
Current mood: hopeful

Today I underwent my first artificial insemination. It wasn't a horrible experience, but its one I hope to not have to repeat. It was almost what I thought it would be, but actually a little worse in the pain deparatment.

For those of you who don't know, artificial insemination is when sperm is taken and washed and spun down so that only the heartiest sperm are left. It eliminates all of the "Homer" sperm (d'oh!), as my husband and I like to call them. The sperm are then put into a solution (I assume its some kind of saline), pulled up into a needle, inserted into the woman's uterus, and pushed out. This gives a better chance at conceiving because the sperm not only have a shorter distance to travel, but they are also enhanced through the spinning process to help them better achieve their goal. I found out this week that there are many areas where the sperm can be released, such as just inside the uterus, or up in the fallopian tubes. This explains why my doctor said he would be willing to perform this procedure up to 3 more times before requiring a laparoscopy. However, if I don't get pregnant this month, my next step will be the laparoscopy.

Once the insemination was performed, my doctor told me to come back in 14 days and take a pregnancy test if I had not started my period. The only problem I have now is trying not to get my hopes up and trying not to notice anything and everything different that I experience over the next couple weeks that I could attribute to being pregnant. During this whole infertility process I have had some abnormal symptoms before each of my menstral cycles, leading me to believe I might be pregnant, only to get a negative pregnancy test and end up in tears. These treatmenst REALLY throw a woman's body for a loop. It got to the point a couple months ago where when I experienced anything abnormal, I had to tell myself that it was normal due to treatments.

One thing that I have found helpful in this process has been telling people about my experience. There are a couple of reasons for this, the first one being that the support and love I have received from my friends and family has helped give me hope, and helped me stay strong. Thank you to everyone who has given me well-wishes in this process. They are so very welcome to my heart. It makes a big difference for me. The second reason I share my experiences is to help educate people. I have no idea if anyone else is going to have to go up against what I'm doing, but if they do, I want to be able to help educate them on what this process involves. I see no reason to be heart broken that I am going through this, or to want to keep it from people. I have found that people want to be there for you, to be supportive, and to show their love. All of the love that I have received has really helped boost me up in my low moments, and as anyone who has experienced this process knows, there are a LOT of low moments.

Thank you to all of my family and friends for your continued support, prayers, well-wishes, and most of all, love. I hope one day to be able to return the favor. Hopefully in 14 days I will be able to deliver the news I am so wanting to deliver!

I didn't get to deliver that news. Instead, I informed everyone I was going in for a lap. :(

Latest Milestones

This past weekend was a crazy roller coaster ride with Baby Bean. Why? Because she has officially cut her first two teeth! I figured she was teething about a month or so ago when she had all of the tell tale signs, but nothing ever surfaced... until Friday night when she was happily munching on my finger and I realized I could feel the beginnings of teeth. We had company over when I noticed, so I didn't feel it appropriate to react the way I wanted to, which was to go "Yay!" and then cry because my little girl is growing up too quickly.

I was a fool over the weekend too. I stayed up until 2:00 a.m. Friday and Saturday night reading blog after blog for ICLW, thinking I could just sleep in the next day or nap when Baby Bean did. Ha! She showed me. She woke up two hours early both mornings, as well as woke up with a screaming fit one of the nights around 1:30 in the morning. I got so little sleep over the weekend it wasn't even funny. By the time Sunday night rolled around, I was in bed early.

I did get in trouble with Hubs when I went in to check on Baby Bean Saturday night because she woke up screaming. I went in and her shrill cries cut my to my core. I couldn't handle listening to her scream in pain, so I picked her up, held her tightly to me, and rocked her back to sleep. The next morning Hubs was upset with me for picking her up. Especially because she then woke up two hours early the next morning screaming again. I went to her that time as well. I gave her some Tyl.enol, rocked her a bit, put her back in her crib with her mobile playing and tried to go back to bed for a couple of hours. Again, ha! I didn't sleep a wink. She was awake and cranky as hell. Poor little thing.

Hubs and I also noticed this past week that she is probably only a couple weeks away from crawling. She has figured out how to get her knees under her and then pushes back and forth. It is only a matter of time before she figures out that she can move those hands and knees to go in a forward motion. Time to baby proof the house!

But the best thing of all that she has learned to do is say, "Mama!" She has actually been doing this for about a month or so. At first she didn't realize she was saying it, but I think she is figuring out lately that I am mama. She is in the beginning phases of separation anxiety, so when I put her down and walk out of sight she yells, "Mama! Mama!" until I come back to show her I haven't gone anywhere. She is no longer content to lay on her play mat and play with toys. She would rather sit in her high chair in the kitchen with me while I cook or clean, right where she can see me.

One of my favorite things to do with her is sit her up on my bed while I fold laundry, and with a baby, there is always a load of laundry to fold. She sits there and plays with a set of toys reserved for that exact location while we listen to toddler tunes on the TV and I fold away. Once I'm done, we play for a bit on the bed and both of us giggle.

She is a very snugly and curious little girl. She loves to snug into my arms during her bottle feedings, occasionally stopping to look around. She LOVES the dogs, but especially Sadie. If the dogs stop what they are doing to look at her, she smiles and squeals with delight. Occasionally we will let the dogs lick her hands and feet, but it is only because it sends her into fits of laughter. She loves doggie licks (we promptly wash her hands and feet afterward!).

So there you have it, Baby Bean's latest and greatest milestones!

What I've Learned

I have to say that while trying to keep up with ICLW has lead to me sitting awake until 2:00 a.m. reading blogs and leaving comments like an obsessed person, I am thoroughly enjoying the experience because it has brought to my attention so many amazing women and men who are fighting the same war as me. It has been worth the lack of sleep. :)

When I started on my infertility journey, I was alone. I didn't know one other person who was going through what I was. In fact, I lived in a state that had one of the constantly highest birth rates in the country. I was surrounded by pregnant women everywhere. I honestly felt alone. I dreaded going in for each and every single appointment because my doctor was also an OB/GYN with an unsegregated waiting room, which meant I got to sit with all of the pregnant 19- and 20-year-old bitties who complained unmercifully about their pregnancies. They always took for granted that because they were there for a pregnancy, every other woman of child bearing age in that waiting room was either there because they were also pregnant, or was there for an annual pap. I can't count the number of times it took all of my will power to not jump over rows of chairs to strangle an ungrateful pregnant girl, or the number of times I tried so hard to focus on the work I had brought with me so as not to cry as I helplessly listened to complaint after complaint from an expectant mother. Too numerous were the times that I was barely able to contain my tears until the door to the exam room was shut when they would stream warm and relentlessly down my cheeks.

Then one day, I started a blog. In the beginning it was just as a joke. I had no intention of keeping it going for more than a week or so. A couple of months in, I realized I could use it as an information outlet and a journal of my journey through infertility. After a few months, I moved it over here where I had more freedom with the layout. I didn't know then that I was about to meet so many women who were fighting their own battles with infertility. I had no idea my support group was coming around the corner.

Here I am, almost two years later, and I am just now getting really involved in the Infertility/Loss/Adoption group. I've been involved with a few blogs, but not like I will be able to now that I have joined ICLW. What an amazing support all of you are. Over the past few days I have read about so many of your journeys through infertility. They are all so different, so individual, yet all the same. Some of us have been through a lot more than others, but we all want the same thing: to be parents, and we all want it more than anything.

I am so glad that I have been afforded this opportunity to meet all of you. I only wish I had jumped on the band wagon sooner. You are all incredible, strong women, and your stories are uplifting. Thank you for taking time to stop by and say hello these past few days and leave such heartfelt comments. I wish you all the best in your own journeys.

How Did I Get Here?

I am joining my first ever IComLeavWe hosted by the amazing Mel at Stirrup Queens. If you're not sure what that is and care to find out, click here. I just want to say that I am really glad I joined. I have been introduced to so many incredible new bloggers and the experience has been very uplifting. Thanks Mel for putting it all together!

I figured that since so many of you are new to my blog, perhaps only reading it for this week, I would give you a little background on how I got here. Its the first time on this blog that the whole story has been told in one post. It has been a long journey, and one that is far from over.

In September 2005 I married my sweetheart for time and all eternity. I had told him while we were dating that I was pretty sure conceiving children would not come easily for me and asked if he was willing to do infertility if it came to that, to which he replied he was if that was what I wanted. I just always had a feeling there would be complications. We chose to wait a year after our marriage to start trying for a family, but 6 months in, my cycles became abnormal and I decided it was time to start trying.

In October of 2006, I set foot in the infertility clinic for the first time. I was sure all I would need was a few months on chlomid and I'd be knocked up by Christmas. Little did I know I was about to become an infertility experiment with a specialist in training and all hell was going to break lose with my life. I sat in the waiting room on that crisp October morning thinking that no matter what happened, infertility would not best me. I would never let it break me, and I would never become bitter. I was so naive.

During that first month progesterone tests indicated I was not ovulating. The next month I started my first dose of chlomid. It was too low to induce ovulation. The second month we had ovulatory success, but not pregnancy. Before I knew it, I was on a whirlwind ride full of internal ultrasounds every other day, FSH shots, HCG triggers, ovarian cycsts, and mood swings that would make Ange.lina Joll.ie look tame. My very metal was tested, along with my marriage, and every single relationship I had. I had two choices, I could let it all best me, or I could come out stronger on the other end. I chose to come out stronger, even though that meant losing lifelong friendships in some cases.

One day in August of 2007 I was debating over whether or not to continue with the current cycle. I was tired, battered, and worn. I wanted to quit and give up the month, but I had already had two doses of FSH, and so I decided at the very last minute to continue with the cycle. By chance I got the doctor my specialist worked under because it was a Sunday and he was on call. Long story short, I found out I had been an experiment with unfounded protocols that made the doctor angry with the specialist.

As soon as the new doctor told me this, I asked if he would please take me on as his patient. He told me he would, but that my current cycle would have to be turned into an IUI. If that failed I could opt for a laparoscopy, two more IUIs, or go straight to IVF. We went ahead with the IUI, and when it failed I opted for surgery.

On October 30, 2007, I underwent a 3.5 hour laparoscopy that revealed I had moderate and extensive endometriosis around my ovaries, all over my uterus, and in other areas of my abdominal cavity. It further revealed a mild case of PCOS and a uterine septum. The endometriosis was resected, the septum removed, and ovarian drilling performed, along with a surprise appendectomy. The removal of the septum made any pregnancies an automatic c-section.

A few months after my surgery, Hubs and I needed a major change of scenery. I posted my resume in a different state, and by March of 2008 we were residents of Texas. I left my home, and Hubs returned to his. We half-heartedly continued to try for a baby as we were getting our new life in order. Within a month and a half of being here, my strange cycle returned. I wanted to give up and be done, but Hubs wouldn't have it, so I scheduled an appointment with a new OB for the following month. It was at this appointment we found out we were expecting, all on our own.

Nine short months and a very easy pregnancy later, our beautiful baby girl was born. She is worth absolutely every thing I had to go through to get her. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

But our story does not end there. It was during the c-section we found out that Baby Bean's placenta had implanted in the scar tissue from the removal of the septum and had been slowly making its way through the uterine lining during the last few months of my pregnancy. It had poked a hole in my uterus. This threw a major wrench in our plans to not wait more than a few months before trying for Baby #2. We didn't want to wait because neither of us is that young anymore, we want multiple children, and we don't know how quickly the endometriosis will grow back. We felt that the longer we waited, the less likely our chances would be of having more children.

Upon hearing of the rupture, we were told we would be lucky to have any more. That if I did get pregnant again, it would be a high risk pregnancy, I would never carry to term again, and an MRI would have to be performed as soon as the baby was viable to ensure the placenta was not making its way through scar tissue again, as a rupture could kill both the baby and me. After consulting with a high risk OB, we were told we could try again in a year's time.

That brings us to where we are today. We are currently on birth control (an IUD), much against my wishes, but necessary to help slow the regrowth of endo while we wait for the year to pass. We are hoping and praying that we will be able to get pregnant again next year and without the aid of treatments or repetition of the laparoscopy. We're just grateful that we at least get to try again.

Please feel free to join us on our journey. The love and support I receive from blog friends and especially those going through the same thing helps me make it through the rough days. Thank you for visiting, and I wish you all the best!

The Reason

Here goes nothing. I am finally divulging the reason for my trip home last month. A few months ago while I was out shopping with Baby Bean my mother called me and told me she had some bad news. She wasn't sure how to tell me, and I could hear by the emotion in her voice that she was trying not to cry. I thought she was going to tell me something was wrong with my dad. When she was finally able to talk, she told me she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer.

My head went into a tailspin. I couldn't wrap my brain around what she was saying, or the fact that she was saying it was happening to her. I wanted to sit down and cry, but I was in the middle of a store with Baby Bean on the verge of being fussy. I choked back my tears, and checked my emotion. My personal phone call was not the business of anyone in that store. Our conversation continued for a while more, as my mom told me how she felt about all of it and how she would handle treatment. The diagnosis wasn't 100% positive yet, so she had a biopsy scheduled.

A few weeks later, the biopsy revealed that she did, in fact, have breast cancer. It was in the early stages, but it was spread throughout the tissue, leaving her with the only course of action being a mastectomy.

Not very many people know my mom recently had breast cancer, or that she had surgery to remove it. I have wondered to myself many times over the months why I wasn't comfortable talking about it to anyone. I love my mother very much, and I care about her and what she is going through, but I was having a hard time expressing it to anyone but Hubs.

After much soul searching, I realized it is because if I told anyone, it was like admitting that my mother is human. She can get sick, and one day she will die. I can't handle that thought. My mom has always been the rock. The person who never gets sick. The Eternal Being. So to hear that she had a life threatening illness was something my subconscious would not let my consciousness handle.

I had suppressed my feelings for months, and still only told a few people. I didn't want people telling me they were sorry and asking how I was doing. I wasn't the one fighting the battle, my mom was. Normally I don't turn away people's good intentions, but when it came to my mom, I couldn't handle them. I didn't want them reminding me she is mortal.

It wasn't until the day of her surgery that I finally let all of it reach the surface. My little brother sent me a text to tell me she was in surgery, and I sat there, thinking of her in the OR, sedated by anesthesia, and I cried. I cried so hard. It hurt. I ached for my mother. I couldn't bear thinking of her in an OR, and it pained me to think of her trying to recover from it all.

I had booked a ticket home a month before the surgery. I would go home to be with her and bring her newest grandbaby. I didn't care how much the ticket cost or the fact that I really couldn't afford it. I knew that flying by myself with my 5-month-old could be disastrous, and at best, would stress me to the max. In the days leading up to the trip, I managed to stress myself out pretty good. Every time I thought about getting through security, take-off, and landing, I would start to sweat and panic, but I made myself get over it. I would make it work, and I would be there for her.

Since the surgery, my mom has gone back in and been found to be cancer free. It has been determined that she will not need any further treatment. They caught the cancer earlier enough that it had not spread anywhere else in her body. She has officially fought the war with breast cancer and won!

She might be sporting a battle wound, but my mother just returned to her immortal status in my eyes. She is a fighter and a healer. With my dad, she is the glue that holds our family together through thick and thin. I am not ready to be without her, which is why I could not entertain the thought of cancer besting her, and it didn't.

I love you very much mom. You are an amazing woman, and I am honored to call you My Immortal Mother.

Show and Tell

This post is in response to the Stirrup Queen's Weekly Show and Tell Thread. I am excited that I have something I feel worthy of show and tell this week.

I recently made a trip home to visit my parents. The reason for which will be disclosed in a post later this week. After marrying Hubs, but before moving to a completely different state, my dad and his siblings had the unpleasant task of cleaning out the house in which they grew up, as my grandmother had moved to a nursing home and could no longer maintain the house.

When the clean out commenced, the sad divvying of my grandparent's life possessions took place. This was the first time in my life I realized that everything physical we own in this life is just stuff. We can't take any of it with us when we die. It brings us pleasure while we are here, but it stays behind when we leave. You always hope that your possessions will go to those you love, and that they will treasure them as much as you do. In the case of my grandparent's things, I do treasure them very much.

The house cleaning was taking place right around the time Hubs and I were getting married, and so a few pieces of furniture came our way. I obtained some very prized possessions, such as my grandparent's antique writing desk, a coffee table they bought when they were newly married, and a few other personally valuable items. I accepted them, honored to have them in my home, and hoping to one day have children of my own to pass them onto.

The whole process broke my heart, and I ached for my grandmother as she watched all of her things being divided among her children and grandchildren. Some items brought tears to her eyes as she knew she would never see them again. Someone else would use her china at Christmas. Someone else would look lovingly at her trinkets. Someone else would look through her old photos, only the chances were good that the looker would not know the subjects, the subject matter, or the reason the photo was taken.

She cried and I held her in a tight hug as she instructed me to take the coffee table from her entryway. She told me it was one of the first pieces of furniture her and my grandpa purchased together. She told me that she dusted it weekly with furniture polish and to please take care of it. I promised I would.

Here I digress. It was during my trip home that my dad presented me with a cedar box full of negatives from my grandma's house. It had belonged to my grandpa. I had such mixed emotions. I wanted that box and the photos inside, but I felt an ache taking it from my dad. I know it is just stuff, but it was his father's. My dad has given me many items that belonged to his parents and were special to him, even though I could tell it was a little hard for him to part with them.

I promised myself I would get the photos printed or scanned. A few weeks ago I bought a scanner, and this past week got around to scanning the negatives. Some of them didn't turn out, but I did get some very prized pictures. They might not mean anything to most people, but they mean a lot to me. Without further ado, I present a whole slew of pictures from 1946.

My dad as a baby. THAT is fun to look at.

My dad and his two older siblings.

My aunt, at 2 years old, smelling my grandmother's flowers.

My uncle and aunt, riding tricycles on the driveway.

My great-grandmother. I never met her.

My grandmother, standing proudly in front of her flower garden.

I'm not sure who these kids are, but this picture is fun to look at.
The Christmas tree.
The table shown on the right is the one my grandmother gave me.

Artificial Insemination

It is now time for another entry from my old blog. This one talks about the day I decided we would embark on our first artifical insemination.

Monday, August 27, 2007
Oh Man. Information Overload!
Current mood: hopeful

This past weekend I was supposed to do an ultrasound to see if I would ovulate this month, and if so, how many eggs I would release. (Keep in mind, a woman normally ovulates with ONE egg per month.) I called my doctor on Saturday to schedule my appointment with her that day, but she told me it was unnecessary since my husband and I had opted not to do the hormone shots for the rest of this year, but to just do clomid. However, I got a bee in my bonnet the next day and felt like I wanted to try the shots two more times before the year was over, but that I didn't want to do them in November or December because I wanted to be normal for the holidays if things didn't work out before then.

I called over to the hopsital to have my doctor paged for the ultrasound, but she was unavailable, so I got the physician she works for instead of her. He told me that he would be more than happy to perform the ultrasound for her and to come in as soon as possible. We found in the ultrasound that I have five eggs this month. Not a shock to my husband, me, or my doctor. The doctor who performed the ultrasound asked how long I had been on clomid. I told him this was our sixth month. He replied that he would have never left me on the clomid for more than three months because after that amount of time, it actually decreases your chances of getting pregnant. (WOA! My dr was going to leave me on it through December!)

Then began the information overload.

He said that the only hope I had of concieving this month was to do artificial insemination. To which I replied I was willing. He then told me that if it didn't work, I would have to undergo a laporoscopy, which is a surgical procedure where the doctor goes in through the belly button and abdomen and looks for any endometriosis or other abnormalities. That if they did find a problem and were able to resolve it, my chances of getting pregnant would drastically increase. (YAY!) Of course, I could opt to go straight to IVF, in which case anything they would look for in the laporoscopy wouldn't matter. We also discussed a few other options that were open to me before I left with my head reeling.

I have opted to do artificial insemination this week, but my hopes are not high.

Why do I blog about any of this, you ask? Because I know I am not the only woman in the world going through this. I know that there are thousands of women out there going through what I am going through, and I want them to know that there are options. I want them to know that they are not alone. I also want to encourage them to become informed, to know what they are up against and what options are open to them. I think being educated on infertility is extremely important when undergoing this process. It is a process that comes with a steep learning curve, but one that I am glad to be on if it will help me achieve my goal of starting a family.

Every time I walk out of my doctor's office, my head is reeling with questions. The questions I asked after yesterday's appointment with a different doctor is why my own doctor kept me on clomid for so long. Why she didn't know it would decrease my chances the longer I was on it. Why she never told me about the laporoscopy. These thoughts in turn make me realize that no one knows all of the answers, and that I will have to continue to go with my gut instincts and be okay with the choices I make.

So here's to artificial insemination! I won't get my hopes up, but it would be really great if it worked for us.

Lovin' the Skin I'm In

I've done it! I've gotten below my prepregnancy weight! I am officially back to my infertility treatment weight, and I plan to keep on going down at least another 10 lbs. The only downside is that I am not quite back into my prepregnancy or infertility clothes. I'm close, but not there. It just goes to show that things really do shift during pregnancy. When I bought my size 8s a couple months after returning to work, I swore that I wouldn't buy any more pants until I was back into my size 4s. But now that I weigh less than I did last time I dawned those pants and they still don't quite fit, I've decided to give myself the grace to go buy some that do. The 8s are just too baggy on me anymore, and make me look frumpy. In addition, they don't show off all of my hard work.

I've kept walking almost every single day since 6 weeks post partum, even when the temps outside pushed 103 with 30% humidity. I walk on days when it is 95 degrees and 60% humidity. I even go on days when it is hot and threatening rain. It is downright miserable, but I persist. I do it for me, the dogs, and the baby. I want to lose weight, the dogs need exercise, and the baby needs a change of scenery, in addition to her expecting it as part of her nightly routine. So we go. And it is paying off.

Last Friday when I wore my baggy size 8 pants to work, I decided it was time to show off what I've done and to quit forcing myself to wear clothes that don't fit because I'm too cheap to go buy more. I earned a smaller size, it was time to claim my prize. I went and bought myself a couple of new pair of work pants and a pair of size 4 shorts (which I am proudly and comfortably wearing right now). I love how buying smaller clothes makes me feel so good about myself. It also motivates me to keep up the routine.

In addition to losing weight, I have not only come to terms with my post baby body, but I love it. I may have struggled with things a little bit at first, but I have come to cherish my stretch marks along with the little bit of stretched belly skin that still remains. The latter could still tighten up and go away. Chances are most of it will, but if it doesn't, I don't care. I earned all of these things. I went through a lot to get them. They serve as a daily reminder to me that I fought the war and won. I no longer apply cream to them and wish them away. Instead, I lovingly rub them, smile, and think of my baby girl.

Hubs and I want to go on a beach vacation before the year is over. Guess who will proudly sport a bikini? Me! I don't give two figs if no one else on the beach thinks my body looks hot in a bikini because it isn't all smooth and flawless. I am lovin' the skin I'm in. My opinion of me is the only one that matters. Hubs will find me sexy and attractive as long I as I find myself that way. I'm not embarrassed or shy about it. I totally understand the women who have proudly gone before me sporting the same badges of honor. Motherhood is hot, before, during, and after.

Tonight, I will strap Baby Bean in her stroller, put leashes on the dogs, and go walk 4-5 miles in the 95+ degree heat and 50% humidity because one day soon, I will get back into those size 4s!

Can a Woman Catch a Break?!

Guess who got pulled over on their way to work again this morning?

That would be me.

AGAIN!

And once again, I didn't do anything wrong.

I was shocked when the cop turned her lights on. What the F did I do?! Nothing! I pulled over, wondering if I had a tail light out, thankful I had replaced my expired registration sticker the night before.

When she came up to the window I informed her I hadn't done anything wrong. Why was she pulling me over? She refused to answer my question until she had my license and registration in hand, after which she told me I ran a stop sign.

EXCUSE ME?!

How long am I supposed to sit at a stop sign before it is considered safe to proceed without being pulled over? 60 seconds? 5 minutes? 10 minutes?

I came to a full and complete stop. So much so, that I accidentally popped my clutch when I started through the intersection.

I sat in my car and sobbed while she was back in her car writing up my ticket. You see, cops are crap here. They don't let you off for anything. Not even if they know they are wrong. You got pulled over, you get a ticket. Period.

So let's recap: I got a speeding ticket two months ago, got in an accident a month ago, and now I have a fresh ticket from this morning, which by the way already started out crappy because I felt like deuce and considered calling in sick due to the wonderful cramps and nausea my IUD has brought on. Guess I should have called in sick.

The fee for running a stop sign: $204.

Bite me. I'm not paying it.

I called my husband's aunt who is an attorney in this wonderful state of Texas and asked her for legal advice. I told her about my previous ticket and how I had opted for deferred adjudication, since I couldn't prove the school zone lights weren't flashing and figured I wouldn't get another ticket before my probation for that one was up. I've been here for over a year and didn't get a ticket until two months ago.

She told me to fax her my ticket and to not worry about anything other than taking care of her beautiful niece. She told me she would take care of the ticket and it wouldn't hit my record.

I am still pissed beyond pissed though. Every time I see a cop I'm going to freak out now because I keep getting pulled over for not doing anything wrong. Is it because my car has eczema, so they just assume I'm WT? If I get it repainted will they leave me the hell alone? Or do I need to go buy a Le.xus or a Be.amer to get off? Perhaps that is the problem with living in an affluent city and driving a car that cost less than $35k when it was brand new.

Perhaps it is just that cops here have nothing better to do with their time than try to meet monthly quotas due by the 15th of every month. They certainly seem to have an overabundance of bored ones. If there is no crime to fight, can't they transfer a few dozen to a precinct that has more crime than they can handle? Or perhaps they should quit hiring cops from New York City and that aren't complete robots.

Maybe I should just trade in my car for a bike. But then I would just get a ticket for having too much oil in my chain, or my butt being too big for the seat. They will obviously find SOME reason to pull me over, made up or not.

To my fellow drivers, I apologize in advance. I WILL be that annoying person. The one who buries the needle at the speed limit. The one who sits forever and a day at stop signs. The one who stares at green lights, wondering if it is okay to proceed through the intersection. I am seriously jaded and angry. Have I accurately conveyed that yet?

Update:
In an attemtp to cheer me up, a coworker sent me to the following video on YouTube. Freaking awesomly hilarious. Very well put! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJpoD6N782s I'm going to go watch it again... and bookmark it....

The 6-Month Shoot

Here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for, pictures from the 6-month photo shoot! My friend wants to come over and try for some shots again another day, but I couldn't resist putting together a slide show of the ones we did get the two times we've already made it out. I think some of these turned out really fantastic, despite the lack of light or smiles.

Every time I watch the slide show or look at pictures of Baby Bean it is amazing how surreal it still feels to me. I look at her and almost have to pinch myself daily. I still can't believe I am a mother. This little girl is mine. I created her, carried her in my womb for 9 months, gave birth to her, and now get to take care of and raise her. I don't know if it will feel real even 16 years down the road. I look at her every day and feel like if I blink my eyes I will discover it has all been a dream, but its not. This is my life now. This beautiful little spitfire, giggly, smiley, fire cracker baby is my world. My God it is incredible!

No Luck

I have determined that I can control the weather with my emotions. Apparently I am a very powerful woman who didn't know the strength behind my moods. If I am happy, the sun is out. If I am upset, storm clouds appear out of no where. If I am really upset, strong gusts of wind accompany the clouds, rain appears, and they begin testing the tornado sirens.

Okay, so maybe I can't control the weather, but it sure feels that way lately.

Last Friday one of my best friends came over to take pictures of Baby Bean for her 6-month photo shoot. This is the very same friend who took Baby Bean's 3-month photos, shown in this post. However, Mother Nature had other plans.

We started out the evening by wining and dining my friend at the local tapanyaki grill to thank her for her time and talents. By the time we got home and out to take pictures, it was too overcast and dark to get very many shots. We got a few, but not what we wanted. We rescheduled for Sunday, which dawned beautiful and cloudless. But alas, my friend came down very ill. Once again we rescheduled for Wednesday. The day was perfect. Then I had a rough afternoon, and the clouds rolled in at 4:00. Even though when I had checked the weather an hour before it said 0% chance of rain and predicted nothing but a sunny, cloudless sky. By 5:00 the winds were gusting. By 6:45 it was raining. By 6:46, our plans were changed yet again for tonight.

The weather tonight toyed with us for a bit, teetering on the possibility of being overcast, but decided to be merciful. I wish that someone had told Baby Bean that she was not allowed to be overcast. The poor little girl is teething and her sleep patterns are all messed up, which gives her mood swings like unto her mother's when she doesn't get sleep. One minute she is the happiest baby ever, and the next she is screaming her head off from the discomfort of the teeth. Tonight all we got was borderline cranky pants. On top of which, we headed out too late and the evening light washed out a lot of the pictures that would have otherwise been perfect.

Again, we got a few great pictures, and are going to try yet a fifth time on Saturday or Sunday. It HAS to go right next time, doesn't it? Please! All I want are some fantastic black and white, professional-looking pictures of my gorgeous baby girl half way through her first year of life.

The 3-month shoot was so flawless that we apparently got spoiled. Really spoiled.

I am further spoiled by my friend's willingness to help me out. She is saving me a ton of money by taking the pictures for me, and she is doing a million times better than any photographer I could pay. I have a few ideas on how to show her my appreciation. Please take a minute to vote in the poll and help me decide what would knock her socks off and help her realize how very much I appreciate her.

Once we get our good shoot in, I will make a little video and post it, hopefully this weekend.

Wordless Wednesday