Second Round

Friday we got the green light to start another round of Clomid. They did a little ultrasound, and made sure a huge tumor hadn't grown from last month's dosage. Nice, huh?

So, we spent part of our Friday evening at the drugstore. I make my poor, poor husband go with me. If I have to wait around in a dingy Rite-Aid on a Friday night, why shouldn't he? Plus, it gives us the opportunity to peruse the aisles. There are so many things you forget that you need until you have 20 minutes to kill while waiting for your prescription. Here's a few of my favorites:

Frownies - Eliminate deep expression lines while you sleep.

Wet n' Wild Cosmetics - $0.49 for lip liner!! Love it!

As Seen on TV products - too many wonders to behold!

Where do you hide yours?

Speaking of the evil one, I just went to the bathroom, hiding my little white torpedo in the sleeve of my jacket. I absolutely HATE taking my purse to the bathroom with me -it's like announcing to the world, "hey! guess what! I'm on my period and I'm taking my purse with me so you can't see my little arsenal of cotton feminine products!" So, I choose to hide mine in the sleeve of my arm. I just slip it up inside, while no one is looking - then hustle to the ladies room.

The only tale tell sign I can think of is the crinkly sound the wrapper makes. It's a dead giveaway. I wonder if anyone can hear it? I'm not sure which is worse, the paper kind of wrapper or the plastic.

I'm SURE one day I'm going to have to waive my arms unexpectedly (maybe a hornet or something) and the little white paper-wrapped missle is going to come shooting out of my gaberdine wool suit jacket and hit somebody square in the kisser. What do I say then? "Whoa! Where'd that come from?" Or, "what the...?" It'd be fine if it was my office mate Julia - but what if it was my 60-year-old male boss?

So, where do you keep yours?

Evil Aunt Has Arrived

Minutes ago, spurred on by countless cups of herbal tea, I visited the ladies room. There, in the most god-forsaken restroom ever, Aunt Flow knocked on my stall door and announced her arrival. "yoooooo-who! I'm heeeere!" I could hear her evil cackle - rivaling any Haunted House side show.

I wanted to lay her out on the cold, grey, industrial-tiled floor.

New Yoga Pose

Our Costo-bulk sized pregnancy kits came with a great picture to help you test:

Apparently you strike a Yoga Tree pose, then just hold the stick somewhere in front of your thighs.

Sleep, Please

It's 3:30 a.m. and I'm sitting on my couch, crying. No, my period hasn't arrived yet. But neither has a full-night of sleep. In the last week I don't think I've gotten more than 3 hours in one night. It's starting to really get to me.

This isn't anything new, I've had problems with insomnia since I was a teenager, but with the added stress of waiting to see if I'm pregnant, I'm just a huge emotional train wreck.

On top of that, I've had a cold for two weeks. I just can't kick it without sleep. All the elements for The Perfect Storm. I should probably wear a big sign around my neck that says, "Keep clear - 10 feet in all directions."

Of course, with nothing else to do at this ungodly hour, I've been surfing the web, reading all the postings by women, wondering if they're pregnant, too. Some of them have been trying for so long, and doing such crazy things to make it happen. I sincerely pray I don't have to go that far.

Then of course there's the 14-year olds who wonder if they're pregnant because they french-kissed their boyfriend...

No Double Line

Pulled out the first P-test this morning. I suppose it was a little premature. I pee'd on the little stick, and we both waited in our tiny, cramped bathroom to see if a second line would appear.

This particular test, only takes one minute, so we didn't have to wait long. I felt like I was standing in front of a slot machine going, "joker, joker...." and just waiting for the third one to appear to win the jackpot. There was just one line, and we needed one more - but it never appeared.

We waited an extra minute just to be sure. But no damn second line.

There's still hope. I suppose. I guess sometimes it takes a few days until your body has created enough hCG hormones to trigger the test. My basil body temperature is still high, and my monthly visitor hasn't arrived, so we'll see what tomorrow will bring.

This morning we went to a pumpkin patch with friends. They have four kids under the age of eight. They are really great kids - well mannered, sweet, considerate, and cute as buttons. My mind wandered more than once, thinking that maybe we would be watching our kids tromp through muddy fields in a few years.

To be, or not to be, that is the question

Today is the day my period is supposed to start.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up. I keep telling myself that I'm not pregnant so that I wont be completely crushed when Auntie F shows up on my doorstep.

I thought the game was over yesterday when Brian took my temperature (6:00 a.m. - every day!), and it had dropped from 98.6 to 98.1. But, this morning it was up to 98.8. SO, maybe, just maybe...

I've been having a few crampy feelings, but nothing major. I feel a little feverish, but that could be from my body trying to recover from the bad cold I got last week. Some women say they got a cold right when they became pregnant. Others say their sense of smell went off the charts. Really, who knows.

I guess I will in the next few days.

T-2, Or so.

I don't know what everyone gets all worked up about! Geesh! It's just two weeks! In fact, I should know this weekend if my eggs and DH's junk got the party started. Who's counting days? Just because my every waking moment has been CONSUMED with wondering, "Am I?" "What if I am?" "What if I'm not?" "I'm not puking and my boobs don't hurt - does that mean I'm not?" "My boobs hurt and I feel like I'm going to vomit every time I open the fridge - does that mean I am?"

I tried using the prego excuse on Brian this weekend..."Honey, I can't possibly help paint the house, I might be pregnant! You wouldn't want your little peanut exposed to fumes, would you?" Yeah...that went over like a ton of bricks.

But, we were at Costco, and I couldn't help lingering over the baby clothes. I said to DH, "Just think, honey, a year from now our baby could be wearing this little jumper, just like a million other babies across the nation with mommy's and daddy's who buy everything from this megamart." Ahhhh. "Let's go get a big slice of pizza!"

In all honesty, though, I keep recalculating the days and planning when I'm going to take the HPT. We even bought a bulk-size carton of them at Costco.

2WW

We're in the 2WW (Two Week Wait) period. It's the two weeks between the day you ovulated and the expected arrival of your next visit from Auntie Flow. I basically spend every waking moment thinking about the possibility of being pregnant. I also spend a lot of time on the internet googling for "early signs of pregnancy" and then attributing every little ache and pain to it.

I honestly felt lots of pings and spasms and cramps during the few days post "o." I kept quietly cheering my husbands little swimmers onward and upward - "get in there you guys!" Go for it! You can doooo iiiiit!" I'd like to think there was a little party going on in my fallopian tubes - a beautiful egg (or maybe two) sitting in the middle of a bunch of little guys who keep coming up and giving her the wink and nod and their best pick-up line: "how YOU doin'?" One little lucky sucker hopefully scoring the winning ticket to paradise.

The little twinges and stabbing pains have stopped for the most part. Now my boobs hurt - which is supposed to be one of the first signs of being prego. I think it must be how a marathon runner feels and then decides to put vasaline on them to keep from chaffing.

In Search of Mommyhood

I remember getting a lecture from some theological-type leader in my teens telling me that if I ever had sex before marriage, God would strike me pregnant because I had sinned. Now that I'm married and we want to start a family, we're begging God to bless us with a positive sign on a pee stick. It's quite a switch to WANT to get pregnant, vs. trying not to get knocked up - a whole different frame of mind.

We've been trying for seven months - according to fertility experts this puts us in the fast track to "fertility problems." After you turn 35, they don't mess around much. They give you six months and then you're sent off to the fertility experts.

We met with the FE (fertility expert- as they're called in fertility chat rooms) last month and she quickly diagnosed me with PCOS and a uterus with a bunch of scar tissue. Put those two together and you have a recipe for an unlikely place for the swim team and the eggs to get together for a happy hour mixer.

So, this is our first month on Clomid - the starter step for all gals condemned to a wear the letter "I" on their chest (infertile). It's just five little pills that you take day 5-9 of your cycle. It basically stimulates FSH and LH hormones that help produce the big "O" - in this case ovulation. Since I rarely ovulate on my own, Clomid could be my ticket to mommyhood.

Clomid, by the way, makes you CRAZY. I swear, I was a basket case for those five days. I yelled at my husband about every hour on the hour. Thankfully, it was just for five days. However, Hubby was all for the sex-every-other-day romp n' roll regime prescribed by the doc for that "fertile window." I'm pretty sure he'd rather we had to go through this a few more months to get the bonus frequent flyer miles - even willing to endure the Clomid-induced, two-headed crazy bitch who comes to live in house.