That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

you ARE NOT the father

Today is a milestone. It’s officially the longest that I have ever gone between periods, which makes me hopeful and sad at the same time. Hopeful because maybe this time is our time! Sad because this has all happened before, multiple times, and will probably just happen again – setting bigger and longer personal records.

So, I was watching a bit of Maury today, which rounds out my top 3 as far as daytime television is concerned, and it was a typical paternity test episode. It freaking blows my mind how many people are able to have kids while so many of us in the TTC universe continue to POAS and get -HPT’s with 0 hGC, would kill for a BFP, meanwhile it’s been 8 freggin weeks since my LMP… AFNW (that’s a new one, I just learned that one, just now)… ***Baby Dust to ALL***

wtf is with the baby dust crap… I don’t get it. Do other bloggers think I’m an asshole bc I don’t sprinkle baby dust on my posts? ASTERISKS! HAVE SOME SEX! ASTERISKS!

Anyway… so, I’m kickin’ back, suckin’ down some Velveeta Shells & Cheese on the couch watching Maury during Judge Judy’s commercial breaks and there’s this lady on stage that went to Vegas one weekend and gang-banged DOS hombres in UNA NOCHE. (They were black – idk where my spanish came from.) The episode is called “4 Women, 4 Babies… Is Sam the Father?” and originally aired on 11/5/2010, but I can’t ‘xactly find a transcript to see how that one turned out.

So, anyway… this lady goes to Vegas for a fun-filled weekend and gets filled with some strangers’ little swimmers (and while we’re on the subject, uh, hello? STDs much?) and she gets pregnant. Of course. And, it’s not just her! A typical Maury episode has, like, a dozen women who don’t know who fathered their little “surprises.”


What a waste. We’re trying so haaard, my committed, lifelong soulmate and I. I have this friend on facebook that I often commiserate with who’s also trying so haaard… and got nothin’. So, I don’t know. Are the people on Maury less entitled to have a baby? Less deserving just because it’s not planned? Maybe. Yeah, for real, maybe. I guess that sounds AWFUL, but for real… One year I really wanted a laptop at a Black Friday sale, so after Thanksgiving dinner I went to Walmart and started the line. I slept outside – and it was the coldest night EVER. Lots of people showed up at 4:30 AM for the store opening at 5. I wanted a laptop more I guess, because I worked a lot harder. I sacrificed my whole night. I was in line for, like, 8 HOURS! I was there FOREVER! Did I deserve a laptop more than them? You betcha’.

And don’t get me started on this Casey Anthony lady. She got to have this beautiful little girl (like, srsly, the only thing I fear more than no baby is an ugly baby) and drugged her lil’ girl, or drowned her, then taped her face shut.


How do you feel about Kit Avery? I saw “Avery” on a piece of stationery on Etsy, and was all, “Tom, what about Kit Avery La?” He likes it a lot. I keep suggesting “Kit Camille La” and he keeps responding, “Kit Chameleon?” He picked the Kit, he might as well pick the Avery. I’m happy that it’s not Chloe or Madison or Bella* or Oliva or some other name that everyone else has. Sounds like a cowboy name. No wait, I am thinking of Tex Avery.

*#1 Names for 2010 were Jacob and Isabella. No joke. Twilight, huh? Crazy right?

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to whom it may concern

Dear Baby I May Never Have,

If I ever get knocked up, and you are born, and you are a girl, and your name is Kit, this is why.

You dad and I were talking baby names on our drive from Charlotte to Charlottesville last Saturday morning. Ever since my period decided not to show up 3 weeks ago, baby naming has become a bit of a hobby for us both. Not because we’re expecting you, but because we’ve always been wishin’ and hopin’. 

I don’t remember how it started, I think because I like names that hearken back to simpler days when kids still ate dirt and no one really cared. You know? Like, names that my grandparents and their classmates would have had. Charlotte. Lillian. Emma. Ruby. Louise. Truman. John. I hate to say it, but I really like Verna, too. Vera is good, like Vera Wang – but I like Verna with an “n” in it. It goes back to this ol’ firecracker that I worked with at Rag Shop when I was in high school. I loved that lady. 

On that old-timey note, your dad, to the best of his ability, started naming off American Girl dolls. I am really impressed, because he started right away with my 2 favorites, which are retired by the way, Samantha and Felicity. He REALLY liked Felicity. I like that he is sensitive enough to think about the things that I love. It means so much that he thought to think of AG dolls. You know what I mean? Who does that? Anyway, I took the reigns and started naming everybody else: Kirsten, Addy, Josephina, Kaya, Molly, Kit… 

“KIT!” We almost swerved off the road. “I LOOOVE THE NAME KIT!” Tom was freaking out. 

I can’t resist that kind of enthusiasm. Like, this whole trying to have a baby thing is based on his enthusiasm in the first place. I could do the baby thing, but it’s scary. I wouldn’t mind having a kid – but I don’t know whether or not I’m cut out to be a grown-up yet. However, when I see how excited he is, it becomes this thing that I would love to do for him. It turns into this whole different creature. I don’t know it I would have picked it, but I really don’t mind it either way. So someday, if I ever have you and you ever ask, I can say – despite what anyone else may think – your name is Kit because your dad LOVED that name.

Incidentally, the name of the American Girl, Kit, is a nickname. “Kit” is short for Margaret Mildred Kittredge. Your mom’s grandma was Gramma Mildred. Weird coincidence. Moving on.

*facepalm* I bought a dress for you to wear to Kelly’s wedding. The wedding is a year away – and I don’t even know whether or not you actually exist. Proof positive that I am just crazy enough to name you after a toy. 

By the way, finding a n̶i̶c̶k̶n̶a̶m̶e̶ middle name to pair with such an awesome first name is proving to be a real challenge. All we’ve come up with so far is Cloudkicker.

Let me know what you think.

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I have this calendar online that automatically color codes my days. Don’t know what that means? Yeah. Neither did I until about an hour ago. Apparently, fertile days are yellow, pre-fertile days are light yellow, infertile days are purple, and the default color is light purple. It’s frustrating – the entire month of July is light yellow, the 6 – 13 of August are regular yellow, the rest is purple and it’s all making me blue in the face.

I’m on day 52 of my current cycle. Nice. Almost 2 months with no sign of George. I’m kind of glad. Hate that guy.

Feeling really crampy tonight.. no me gusta. I felt like that when I was first suspicious of pregnancy, but it all subsided when I got my first -hpt a week ago. (Look at me, all fancy with the lingo. That’s “negative home pregnancy test” people.) So, all crampy, my boobs hurt… there was something else I was going to say, but I forget what it was… anyway: it all seems to me like George is on his way, and this looks to be a repeat of the Feb. – Apr. situation. The great passover. My buddy George, my Auntie Flo, passed over me for the month of March.

Backaches! That was it. That was the other ting, but I think it’s from sweeping.

So, it’s all kind of teasing me with pregnancy symptoms… but since they’re remarkably similar to George, and bc of my -hpt, I’m not getting my hopes up.

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I just read something that struck a chord with me, a quote that I really like:

“A hysterical pregnancy is a wish that a desperate uterus makes.”

LoL- sounds like me!

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oooooh baby

I thought about writing this in an actual journal, but then realized that no one reads this – so it’s okay.

So, Tom and I have been unofficially trying to make a Tom or Wendy Jr. for 3 years now.

Three.  Freaking.  Years.

It started out as an “oh, cool – let’s give it a shot” thing and now it’s downright cruel.

Starting the very first month, three years ago, I thought we were knocked up and as it turns out, I was incorrect.

So anyway, we recently banged – and the timing was right.  (I found out later, I mean, there’s no guarantee bc I didn’t take my temperature or anything – but the timing was most likely right.)  A week after that, I had some spotting, which was about a week earlier than my monthly buddy, George, was due to show up.  The spotting was one day… and exactly a week after we… you know, and then it went away.

Alright, so, soon after that, I felt nauseous, like, all the time.  Okay, on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being perfectly fine and 10 being doubled over the crapper, VIOLENTLY ILL, it was at about a 3, just some minor digestional discomfort that wouldn’t go away.  My tatas were sore.  My back hurt.  I had ridiculous heartburn.  I would just, like, fall asleep for no reason.  Things smell funny.  Things taste funny.  Plus, a bit of, uh, discharge (I know, ew) and still no sign of George.

So, you tell me!  In my imagination, I put myself in a doctor’s office and I see myself explaining all these symptoms to a doctor as he smiles knowingly, has me pee in a cup, and then is as bewildered as I am when his office test, like my home test, comes out negative.  He looks at his clipboard, scratches his receding hairline and shakes his head.

And ya’ knoooow… it would be one thing if this were the first time.  I’m going on 6 weeks since my last period… a 42 day cycle, which would be notable if it were the first time.  Or, maybe it’s notable because it’s not the first time.  Am I crazy?  Am i that delusional?  Am I so desperate to have a kid that I am telling my body, “look – we’re pregnant whether you want to be or not!”

I must be some kind of sorcerer, because apparently I can turn my period on and off at will.

Since most tests can detect the pregnancy hormone as soon as a day before your missed period, I find it hard to believe that mine couldn’t detect it 2 weeks after.

And, I don’t know… I could just assume that this is a false negative, because really my period isn’t 2 weeks late, it’s more like one… because I’m very PCOSish… and my periods tend to run late… but I think the only thing worse than believing in the fairy tale until I pee on a stick and my uterus turns back into a pumpkin, is continuing to hold on to that fantasy after I’ve seen the negative test with my own eyes.

I tested negative (as usual), and then the nausea mysteriously subsided.  Wow.  What a shocker.

Okay, alright… since no one reads this anyway… for my own personal use here’s some notes on when George has shown up:

June 30 – July 6.
May 23, maybe he was here for a couple of days after that, but I didn’t mark it in my calendar.
May 13,  see, that mid-month single day spotting thing?  Not so unusual.  I guess I turned off my period for my trip to Disney World.
April 17 – 22 & 25.  By June it had pushed back 2 whole weeks – so it’s not really a 28 or 30 day cycle, it’s more like 5 weeks or 35 days…
Feb. 20 – 23, look at that, no March period, period.
Jan 22 – 26, wow Jan – Feb was actually a pretty short cycle.

See… it’s totally sporadic and basically just shows up when I’ve finally accepted the fact that I’m not knocked up.

I kind of forget where I was going with this… I just wanted to make a note of everything that I’m thinking.

I know, I know… I need to see a doctor.  I just KNOW so much time/effort/money is going to be wasted… because they automatically want to rule out stuff that I have already ruled out – like actually being pregnant.  It’s like they’re saying, “yeah, I know you peed in a cup at home and took the test, but that could have been a user-error, and operator malfunction bc pissing in a cup and dipping a pregnancy test in it can be difficult… so, yeah, we’re going to need you to go ahead and pee in a cup… so we can dip a stick in it…”

I know, too, that the doctor will say, “oh, ya’ know your chances would be much better and the pregnancy would be much lower risk for complications if you weren’t morbidly obese.”

Yeah.  I do know that.  I also know a lot of fat a** mother f***ers that have had baby after baby after baby with no problem.  Seriously though, I need to get my BMI under 30 if I want to adopt a Chinese baby at some point.  Apparently that’s a rule.

I know what else you or the doctor are thinking… “just relax.”


I’ll tell you what, I think I really am sick.  Like, mentally retarded sick.  I think I do need to see a doctor, like, a mental doctor.  How does this continue to happen?  How crazy am I, that I can run my body and emotions and husband’s emotions through the ringer month after month after month!

I don’t know what else to say.  I am thinking more thoughts, but… yeah… they’re just all muddled.

I had a dream the other night that my mom had a 2 month old baby.

Last night I kept waking up and trying to remember this dream I was having.  I would wake up and remind myself – “okay, Wendy, you absolutely have to do this FOR REAL when you wake up.  Make a mental note, this is SUPER IMPORTANT.”  Like, all night I would wake up and remind myself that I MUST do this thing in the morning…

The thing was: purchase Electric Blue nail polish.  It was very specific, it had to be electric blue, because I would never remember the name of the white one, but if I found Electric Blue, I’d find the white.  The white one went on really smooth and was just really nice.  I have to get that… but the only way I’ll ever find it is to find Electric Blue.  Buy them both.

Yeah, I know, makes no sense.  Hilarious, but makes no sense.

So that’s what the desperation was about, huh?  Blue nail polish.  I haven’t worn blue nail polish since 6th grade… and I can’t remember ever wearing white.  Actually, I think Ginny Eller and i painted our nails with white-out once… but I feel like we just did french tips… because we’re classy.

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