That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

I have got babies on the braaaaain.  It’s annoying.  I just bounce from Gmail, to facebook, to to  My temps spiked half a degree… we boned 24/7 since the 6-Weeks-Post-Surgery mark… half a degree… what do other charts look like?  I’ve only been charting for a little while… maybe that’s just my normal temperature range… what about my thyroid… what about my one ovary… I should give myself 3 cycles to see what my body is doing post-surgery, right?  RIGHT?!

I’ve got to get out of here…

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Mr. Nasty Epilogue

Okay, a couple of things that deserve mentioning:

Dr. Stadler said that the pain was from a blood clot in my fallopian tube which had twisted and twisted around and around until it was super thick and gross.  How a watermelon spins around like that, I’m sure I will never know.  She said I was one tough cookie, and that to remove the cyst, she had to put her arms inside me about up to her elbows.  They took Mr. Nasty out in one piece.

Had the whole right ovary removed.  It was wrecked, there was no saving it – so now I’m down to one.  But it should work double-time according to the doc, and not decrease my ability to get preggers.  Stadler said the other one looked pristine.  So, I’d like to get pregnant NOW before it has a chance to get a cyst on it.

Uh, before the doctor in Charlotte prescribed the stuff to make me have me period, she had to feel my ovaries to make sure they weren’t swollen.  That was September.  The laparotomy was in November.  I’d sure like to know what she was feeling that she thought was a regular-sized ovary.

Mom and Haley didn’t feel too good after Guadalajara on Black Friday either.  My theory is that the food wasn’t too great, and my body was, like, in shock – wigging out.  You know how when you have a concussion you throw up?

Went to the doctor on Monday after surgery to get the staples out – the nurse over there was still a dick.  I got up to go back to the exam room and was like, can I bring my mom… and the b*tch said, “no.”  When I got into the exam room, she said, “Did they give you anything at the hospital?”
I said, “Uhhmmm…”  They had given me a bunch of stuff.  Paperwork, prescriptions, wipes, cream, gauze, socks… how did i know what she wanted.
“To remove the staples,” she said, “Where did you think you were coming today?”
“Wait.  What are you saying I was supposed to have?”  I stopped that conversation dead in it’s tracks.  Where did you think you were coming today?!  WTF.
“A staple remover.”
“No.  The hospital did not give me a staple remover.”  WHY WOULD THEY.
“Okay, I’ll have to see what we have around here.”  Yeah, you do that… see what you have lying around, the hospital did not give me an instrument to take out my own staples.

I was at higher risk for infection, so we asked everyone to pray for no infection, and guess what – it didn’t get infected.  Maybe coincidence, but I’m going to believe it was God anyway.

While we’re on this spiritual note, Tuesday night I saw a lady in a pink dress – well, actually the whole lady was pink.  Mauve.  She glowed, like, a pink outline, but I could see through her.  The mauve made me immediately associate her with Gramma Mildred, but she was small in stature like Maw Maw.  She had on a flowered straw hat, and was facing the chair where my mom sat, with her back to me and her hand on my stomach… then she was gone.  Maybe I dreamed it.  Maybe I did not.

My whole family agrees things could not have happened better.  Obviously the doctors here in Charlotte can’t be trusted…  Dr. Stadler is INCREDIBLE.  She’s really great at what she does.  That cannot be overstated.

Best Doc + Mom & Dad + Hometown + New Hospital = Absolute Best Case Scenario.

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Mr. Nasty

Crap… I wrote this whole long thing and hit delete at some point and the browser went, like, back… urrrrrgh.

Alright, let’s see if I can remember what I had, because it was pretty stinkin’ good!

I was saying that I am the mother-f*ckin’ sh*t.  I don’t know if you were aware of that, but I am.  I googled, “how long does it take to get pregnant after a laparotomy” because I’d love to get knocked up asap.  I am reading all these comments and posts from sissy, whiny, fussy babies… “oh, I just had surgery, my cyst was nearly 9 cm and I was in so much paaaaain…”  NINE CENTIMETERS?  Why don’t you go suck your nine centimeters and TRY TWENTY-FOUR CENTIMETERS ON FOR SIZE.  Excruciating?  Sure – but not after it was removed.  After it was removed I quit crying about it.

I haven’t been able to stop talking about it, but I quit crying about it.

So, I reckon you are up to date with back story info.  I vented about the doctor here in Charlotte and what she was doing to get me ovulating.

Tom and I took the dog and went up to Charlottesville for Thanksgiving.  The three of us crashed in Dad’s spare room.  I think we got up there on Wednesday night – but I’m not sure.  (Look!  I’m already forgetting stuff!  Crap!)

We had no idea that anything was abnormal, except that I wasn’t ovulating – as you’ve probably read in previous entries.

Thanksgiving was good.  We tied Jasmine up outside at the Gonsalves’.  I had good talks/visits with some cousins.  Mom, Haley, Trudy, Sunny, Dee Dee and I walked Jasmine to the beach.  Dee Dee is recovering from surgery, so we took it slow.  It was fun, and I felt good for taking healthy steps.

Tom and I wore our turkey shirts.  Later that night we had a bonfire, and sat outside with the dog.  It was a good Thanksgiving.

Black Friday, we didn’t do the shopping thing.  It was just too tough with the dog and everything.  I woke up crampin’.  Ugh – is this what constipation feels like?  I just feel like I should poop, but I got nothin’.  I haven’t felt this bad since October of ’03 when Courtney and I went to Disney World.  But, that went away, so this should too.

We planned lunch with some of my family, basically the same people who went on the walk the day before, plus Ashley.  We met at the Guad on Fontaine.  It was my deal.  I coordinated the whole deal.  I called Mom and Haley to see if they wanted to go.  I asked them if Trudy and her gang would want to come… anyway – we all met for lunch.  We brought the dog and left her in the car.

So, we’re eating, and I can’t get comfortable.  I’m sitting, kneeling, squatting, standing, bending, hunching, leaning… still cramping like no other.  I spent a good amount of time in the bathroom at the restaurant… still no relief.

After lunch, we were all chillin’ in the parking lot.  One time, I hung out and talked with Trudy in the parking lot of a Guadalajara for over 4 hours.  But on this particular day, i couldn’t stand it.  I hung out for a few minutes, felt sick and was like, “Tom – we gotta go.”  We peaced out.

We went back to Dad’s house and I threw up in the bathtub while I was sitting on the crapper.  Uh, bad idea – none of my fiesta taco salad would fit down the tub drain.  I was devastated, but Tommy took care of it.  Dang, this husband-fella comes in handy from time to time.  Nice to have someone to take care of my grossness.

I sat in an office chair in Dad’s guest room that tilted back.  I sat there for a couple of hours.

When Dad came home from work, we were all, you know, like happy to see each other – excited to hang out.  But I was dying.  Dad had come up to the bedroom and was like, “you been sitting there all afternoon?”
I said, “Yeah.”
“You know, I’ve got a couch and tv downstairs.”
“I know.”
“Hurts that bad?”
“You want to go into the ER?”
“Okay, let me eat something and see which doctor is working tonight.”

Our plan was to go in with Dad whenever he got called in.  He called, and there was a doctor in that wasn’t that bad, but not Dad’s first choice.  I couldn’t stand it.  I was really fidgety.  Anxious.  I was like, “screw this… let’s go.”

My dad was so cute, he made a bowl of leftovers (beans and franks) and we drove separate cars to the new MJH ER on Pantops.  I am not sure what time we got there.  Maybe 8?  I think Dad probably made it home around 6:30 or 7 that night, so it was probably 7:30 or 8 when we got to the hospital.

Dad called Mom and Haley.  Tom was texting Haley.  They had been shopping since lunch, but came out to the hospital.  I’m sure they came because they were worried.  I didn’t think it was a big deal – I thought they were coming to take care of Jasmine, who was out in the car while we were in the hospital.

The doctor examined me and asked me lots of questions.  He determined it was a stomach flu.  I complained about the cramps in my lower abs and back, and the doctor conceded to a CT scan to check for a kidney stone.  By that time, Mom and Haley were there.  Haley went back with me to get the scan.  I know this because as I was laying there on the table, I felt like I was going to puke, and she got me a cup.  The table on the scanner was busted, so I threw up and went back to my bed in the ER.  Mom and Tom were watching Shrek the Third.  I think Haley headed out and took Jasmine home.  Dad went to try and fix the table on the scanner.

And then there were 3.

They got some pain meds going.  And we waited.  They came back to get me and take me to a scanner someplace else, and I was wheeled waaaaay down to the other end of the hospital in my bed.  Pretty cool, I thought I’d have to walk… but they were like, “No way, you’re in pain, you’ve go the IV… we’re takin’ ya’.”

Every single nurse who tried to help drive the bed told me they were bad drivers.  Then some guy took the lead.  When I got to the room with the scanner, my dad was in there.

I wasn’t feeling sick anymore.  I laid on the bed, and listened to my dad say things like, “okay, breathe.  Exhale.  Hold your breath.  This one’s about 9 seconds…”  The table slid out from inside the scanner.  There was a long pause.  I could feel the excitement.  My dad wasn’t even in the room, and I felt his, “Oh my god!”

Honestly, I was excited, I thought I was pregnant.  🙂

I wasn’t.

Dad ran into the room with his hands making the shape of a football, his fingers extended and touching the ones on the opposite hand, you know, making that round shape.  He looked over his glasses, raised his voice and said, “Wendy!  You have an ovarian cyst the size of a large grapefruit!”

I’d love to know where Dad’s been getting his grapefruit.

So, they wheeled me back down to my room.  Mom and Tom were watching the movie and were like, “well?”  I said, “I’ll let Dad tell you.”  The doctor beat Dad to the punch, but Dad showed up right after.  The doctor said there was a very large, approximately 24 cm., cyst and that it was an incidental finding, and still stuck with the stomach flu thing – but said that I should follow up with my obgyn asap.

Well, that’s a problem, because as you all know: I hate my doctor’s office in Charlotte.

That wasn’t really good enough for Dad.  He started making phone calls to find out what surgeons were on call through the weekend.  We finally decided to wait it out until Monday and try to get an appointment with Dr. Stadler, who performed Mom’s hysterectomy.  I was feeling unsure about the whole thing, but at some point I talked to Lindsay and she said that she would drive up from Florida to see Dr. Stadler.  That was enough to convince me to stay in Cville and see if I could get into Dr. Stadler’s office on Monday.

They gave me morphine right before I left the hospital.  I remember feeling REALLY good right before we left, but by the time Dad and I got to the pharmacy, I was already cramping again.

On Saturday, Tom, Jasmine and I went to Van and Trudy’s house and watched UVA get their asses handed to them by Virginia Tech on the Herolds’ big screen.  Van let me sit in his recliner the whole time.  I ate crackers and applesauce.  I hurt.  I was popping Vicodin like Pez and nothing was happening.

On Sunday, I sat in the recliner in Dad’s guest room.  I don’t think we went to lunch with the family.  I don’t remember anything.  I don’t think Mom visited.  We might have done McLean online.  I don’t remember anything.

Finally it was Monday.  Dad called Dr. Stadler’s office.  Her office called me at some point.  Mom came over to Dad’s.  Matt Baysinger came over to Dad’s to dogsit.  Dr. Stadler’s office was really short with me.  Really rude.  They said they needed the CT scan report faxed to their office from MJH.  Dad had said that doctors love the images on disk, which he gave me at the ER, so I told Stadler’s nurse that I had that… she was like, “I understand that your Dad works at the hospital, and that’s nice that he was able to get that for you…” but basically, we need the real thing, from a real doctor not whatever your Daddy got for you.  So, I called Dad and he had MJH fax the thing.

Dr. Stadler’s office called me back.  They would see me at 11.


It’s almost like they thought that I was making it up!  “Well, we’re very busy today – I don’t know if we can fit you in.”

Now, I have noticed that if you bring up an ovarian cyst, every woman has a story about this one time when she or her friend had one… so, maybe that’s why Stadler’s office didn’t take me too seriously when I said I had a really big cyst and needed to be seen asap.  Maybe that’s why they insisted on the radiologist’s report, not the actual scan, before they would take me seriously.

Matt watched Jasmine.  Mom and Tom went with me to the doctor.  Dr. Stadler examined me and said she probably couldn’t fit me in today – but would go ahead and admit me to the ER for pain management, with surgery the next day, Tuesday.

Whoa, wait… what?  Surgery?  Is it as bad as all that?

HELL YEAH IT’S AS BAD AS ALL THAT.  I had no idea.  I didn’t really think about it, or care.  I was just pumped about pain management.  I was at about an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10.

By now, the nurse in Dr. Stadler’s office was actually being nice.  She set up everything with MJH, which took a while because it was last minute and an emergency and everything.  Dr. Stadler was a little miffed that the ER doctor sent me home – yeah, so was I!  She said that the cyst was absolutely what was causing the pain.  She explained that she would do a slice you open kind of surgery laparatomy, instead of the little incisions and we pop the cyst and suck it out laparoscopy.  She said because I have a lot of belly fat, that I am more at risk for infection.  Something like 3% of average-weight women get infections, and 12% of overweight females do… or something like that.  Anyway, it was a huge concern for me.

So… we checked into MJH.  Trudy and Van rescued Matt from Jasmine.  I was feeling good, and even ate a big dinner.


Monday night was quiet.  Uneventful, except that Uncle Todd stopped by the hospital.

They told me that I couldn’t have anything after 11:45 pm.  I think it’s interesting that’s the rule whether your surgery is at 8 am or 4 pm.  My surgery was scheduled for 3.  Of course, at midnight I was thirsty.  I am generally a rule-follower, but I did take a swig of water at midnight.

There was a pull out couch next to my bed where Tom spent every night.  I feel bad – I didn’t really think about him.  I didn’t eat, because I wasn’t hungry… so he didn’t eat either, poor baby.

I’d like to say, “I woke up Tuesday morning…” but I never really got to go to sleep.  They wake you up like every 30 seconds in the hospital.  It sucks.  I guess I slept okay Monday night and Tuesday night.  It was all downhill after that.

I don’t remember much from Tuesday.  Just waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.  I showered.  That was an adventure.  They had to unhook my IV and wrap it in plastic.  Tom helped me.  I figured it would be my last shower for a couple of days.  We spent most of the afternoon looking at the clock.  I met the anesthesiologist.  Three o’clock… nothing.  3:15, nobody came to get me… 3:30, still nothing.  I don’t know what time it was when they finally showed up.

I went down the hall, whipped around some corner and was about to turn another corner when I heard the coolest thing, “Weeeendy!!!!”  I looked up and there was my baby sister in a yellow shirt.  She came all the way from Bridgewater to see me.  All the way from Bridgewater to see me for a spit second before surgery.  That was the coolest thing ever.

I wore my glasses into surgery, the nurses weren’t too happy with that, but Honey-badger don’t care!  I guess they took them off after I passed out.

So, I said hi and bye to Haley, and was wheeled waaaaay down a few halls.  They pulled me into a very plain area.  The lady that went to get me sat by me while we waited to go into the operating room.  She was nice, but complained to another lady about how far she had to go to get me.  We went into the operating room.  I met a bunch of, like, assistants who were happy to meet me.  The anesthesiologist was there.  It was nice to see someone I recognized.  We said hi… and I was out.

Apparently so was Mr. Nasty.

This picture gives me nightmares, but you can see my twisted up fallopian tube:

Colossal Ovarian Cyst

I don’t remember being wheeled back to my room.  But I do remember Trudy, Mom, Dad and Haley said “A League of their Own” just went off.  The hospital was new and nice.  There was a pretty big tv in the room with a bunch of OnDemand movies, and a lot of them were Disney.  I really wanted M&M minis.    Tuesday night was great.  I felt like it was a new beginning.  I smiled.  I was excited.  I was on a liquid diet, but in a great mood.

Larry and Debby came by on Tuesday, I think.  Courtney and Debby came by on Wednesday, I think.  Jessie Ray came by on Wednesday.  Wednesday was alright.  They took my morphine clicker away.  I was on a liquid diet, but eating.


I threw up all daaaaay.  The hospital is retarded… they have all these procedures in place, for a reason I’m sure, but it’s like one big giant catch 22.  I was supposed to leave on Thursday, so the nurse – the worst nurse I had the whole time, Austin – was adamant that I ate so I could leave.  Whenever I ate, I threw up.  Even the thought of eating made me sick.  I just wanted to sit there.  But the nurse-dude would come in every hour and try to get me to eat, which of course made me barf.  If I didn’t have to prove I could eat, I wouldn’t have been throwing up and could go home.  They took out my IV, which was in bad shape.  It wasn’t going into my blood vessel anymore, just into my arm somewhere.  (Turns out it’s not a big deal,, but it hurt like hell for weeks.)

They hospital kind of kicked Mom out after her hysterectomy and she was still in bad shape.  So we were weary about leaving.  My dad made a great point, a typical 2 night post-op hospital stay is typical for removal of a typical golf ball sized cyst – mine was a gol-darned watermelon!  My parents were smart, they called the Patient Advocate, and just the fact that they asked for her caught the attention of the head nurse and eventually Dr. Stadler – so that bought me another night.  Way to go Old People for being smart!

Unfortunately, that meant Austin the Supernurse had to put in a new IV.  He missed twice.  *facepalm*  I trust him, you know, I know he’s a professional.  But Dad said he blew it.  I had an IV in my left forearm on Friday night in the ER, left forearm for surgery, and Nurse Austin tried both hands and missed.  He said, “they only let me try twice, let me go get someone…”  Dad left the room to ask if he could do it.

Some other lady came in to draw blood.  Dad watched her try unsuccessfully to get it out of my left forearm, so she went ahead and got it straight out of my wrist.  That hurt like hell!!  The blood was gushing out from there, I can’t explain it.  It was just a few seconds, but I could feel the tube vibrating as it filled up.  Crazy.

Turns out Dad is AMAZING at starting IVs.  (Not that I doubted him.)  He put it in a weird spot, on the back side of my thumb.  It was the only IV that didn’t bruise.  AT ALL.  It also was the only one that didn’t hurt.  He’s AMAZING.

A nurse came in around 9 on Thursday night and gave me medicine.  I told her I was going to throw up.  She said, “well, try and we’ll see what happens.”  I know it was 9, because I was excited about watching The Office, and spent the whole episode throwing up instead.  It hurt my stomach, you know, all the violent heaving that comes with gagging and throwing up – especially when the tank is empty.  There was nothing left but dark green stuff, which was kind of cool – first time I’ve seen bile and PROOF that I was throwing up like there’s no tomorrow.  I hated having to “try” eating and “prove” I couldn’t keep it down.  Fortunately, the night nurse just kind of said, “alright, I’ll mark that as not taken,” or rejected or something, and left me alone for the rest of the night.

I woke up Friday morning ready to get the F out of there.  Nurse Austin was back again – dammit.  I don’t know what happened.  I ate something, and Austin said, “okay, we’ll get you out of here.”  I DID NOT like that guy!  Dr. Stadler at some point said, “okay, well, there is one Rx that you don’t have to fill if you don’t want to…” and frickin’ Nurse Austin ripped it up in front of me.  Just… he was such a dick.  Leave it, or take it away… whatever… don’t imply that I’m a drug addict.

But with that… I was outta there!!!!!!!!!

Middle finger to tha sky!!!!

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Tom and Jasmine in the doghouse

So… the Dr.’s office called – and I don’t take things like that too seriously, so I ignored it.  They called Tom’s phone, too, and I ignored that as well.  Then, yesterday I got a letter, “Please contact us regarding your abnormal test results!”  Probably just telling me that my thyroid is abnormal… I know that.  Or I have hepatitis.  LoL.  Oh God, what if I actually DO have hepatitis?  Maybe they were running a routine test and discovered that I have AIDS!  …That’s crazy.  I pictured myself in the doctor’s office explaining that I had a partner before Tom… and how could this happen… oh, they did that other test, too.  You know, stuck the cotton swab in my hoo-hah.  Maybe THAT’s the abnormal result.  Oh God, I have cervical cancer.

Tom called them for me this afternoon.  While I took my regularly scheduled George as a sign that normalcy was returning to my body and ovulation cycle, as it turns out, I didn’t ovulate.  (It’s kind of nice to answer the question I posed the other day, you know, “idk what this means for ovulation…” well, it means nothing bc ovulation didn’t happen.)  Sooo… back to the ol’ drawing board.  They are upping the dosage of estrogen, which I am supposed to start taking on day three of my cycle… which is today.  Well, it kiiiind of started 4 days ago, but it was just a tiny bit and it was late, late at night.  So, we’re not counting that until the next morning.  Anyway… some lucky break, huh?  If I had ignored it one more day, it would have been too late.  Crazy.

I know this has nothing to do with anything… well, okay, I’ll just say it… when I do the pendulum thing, I get girl, girl, boy.  So, I am thinking this dose of hormones also doesn’t work, and we have to switch to Clomid (?), the one with a 10% chance of multiples… and I’m’a go ahead and have those multiples.  I’m thinking we’ll get twin girls and on down the line a little fella’ will show up for Tom to hang out with.

The timing would have been perfect if it had worked out the last time.  Did I mention that?  I’m sure I have… 3 months old at Kelly’s wedding, old enough to make a debut, and young enough for me to use as an excuse to not stay in the house with Kelly and the wedding party.  Baby would be old enough at Christmas to not just sit there like a slug (like baby Haley, my lil’ sister who was only 3 months old).

Le sigh.

In other news, Tom and I are going to Renn Fest in Maryland tomorrow.  With the same amount of driving, I could be at Disney World.  So, I figured we could take Megabus and get some sleep along the way.  Well, it took Tom until TODAY to find someone to drop us off at the bus stop.  For whatever reason, he was under the impression that the same person who drops us off has to pick us up – and he wouldn’t ask the two guys he works with because, “they have kids.”  …Whatever that means.  He wouldn’t ask his boss because, “…it would just be awkward.”  So, FINALLY, TODAY he nailed down someone who can drop us off and TODAY the bus is full and tickets are SOLD OUT.

I’m pissed.  We may never have kids because I don’t want to talk to him, much less… you know.

So, we have to drop the dog off at the vet and then DRIVE EIGHT FREAKIN’ HOURS to the DC Metro area.

…but I’ll get to see my cousin, so I’m excited about that part of it.  A bunch of people from AiW are also going to be at Renn Fest that day.  I don’t, like, want to hang out with them, but it would be neat to run into them.

AND my dog got into the trash.  I’m just not having a good day.  I’m not in a bad mood… I’m pissed about the bus, and the ovulation, and the dog – but I’m not in a bad mood.  Weird.


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stop taunting me

I went back to the doctor on Tuesday.  I waited for, like, an hour and a half to see the doc.  We got there around 6pm, didn’t see her until, what was it… like, 7:30.  She apologized, but I just kind of shrugged, “it happens.”  What sucks is that I don’t think she remembered me.  The computers were acting up, so I had to do some paperwork on Tuesday that I had done a month ago.

They kept asking me when my last period was… and I mean… how could anyone forget the crying?  Dooooooohyeeee… My period STARTED the last time I was in this office.  Remember?  We scheduled this appt. bc you couldn’t do the pap bc of George?  Right?  Anything?

I wish I was brave.  Wish I had said that.

Doc also kept naming drugs that she prescribed.  She said, “you took the such-and-such?  One pill?”  “Oh, no – it was for, like, 5 days.”  “But one pill?”  “Yes?”  I don’t expect the doctor to remember everything, but some of it would have been nice.  “And you’re taking the whatever-the-other-is-called?”  “Yeah.”  “We’ll have to see you in about 3 weeks to see if that’s working.”

So, the latter drug, I know, is snthyroid.  I wonder if I’m fat bc of my thyroid or if my thyroid is wonky because I’m fat.  Hmm.

Shit, I forgot to take the thyroid one today.

The main reason I jumped on here was because I think it’s hilarious that THIS BABY IS TAUNTING ME.

It’s on every page that I visit.  Bummer.  Hilarious.  Adorable.  But also a bummer.

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i hate everything

Oh, the irony…

As I was writing that last post, as I was in the middle of writing about how much I hoped everything was okay – how I was sure it was gonna be fine, George came.  I ignored him, but when I went to take a shower to get ready for the doctor it was irrefutable.  As plain as the nose on my face… er… the blood in my underpants.  (Ew.)

I thought I was two days shy of “10 weeks pregnant”.

I didn’t know what was happening, and still thought maybe this thing was salvageable.  So, I put my legs up, called Tom and we went straight to the doctor.

Okay, and… it’s like… I don’t know… I just don’t understand why God would string somebody along like this.  Even as we raced to the doctor, it was like God was punk’ng me.  We left here about an hour earlier than we planned, and still got there just in time to go to my appointment as scheduled.  There was an accident on I-77 that not only caused us to be late, but about a dozen happy pregnant women were waddling in at the same time.

They asked me to pee in a cup.  And I cried, because I knew it was over.

I went into a room and with a nurse and we talked about stuff, although I didn’t really get the chance to deal with details because I started crying again when she asked how long we’d been trying.

The doctor came in and we talked more in depth about my medical history.  I told her I felt like I was going crazy and cried some more.

She asked if I wanted to do a pap smear and I guess a pelvic exam, and I said, “That’s not going to be pleasant for either one of us.”

“Oh, yeah… right,” she said, “your period.”  We talked about an exam in 3 weeks.  We talked more about what’s going on, but not at all in the gory details I was planning to tell her.  She asked mostly yes or no questions.  Like, “any health problems?”  I said, “Well, obesity.”  She asked what I thought was causing that, she might have just said, “why do you think that is?” and I said probably soda.

So, we decided to get me in for an exam and go from there.  I don’t know… then what was the point of this whole day?  Just… omg the crying.

“Unless you want to go ahead and try some hormones now.”

“Well, I want to try SOMETHING.”

Good news: officially getting the ball rolling.  Bad news: she had to make sure my ovaries weren’t swollen first, or some shit, by sticking her hand up my hoo-hah anyway.

But I got a Rx for something.  It’s something that has to do with breast cancer.

I told Tom in the car that it just doesn’t seem right using hormones.  It doesn’t feel like God’s timing, it feels like us timing it.  We’re making it happen.  And Tom kind of alluded to that story about the guy that drowns.  (You know, there’s a hurricane coming, so the news told everyone to evacuate… but dude doesn’t leave because he knows God will save him.  Well, guess what?  The hurricane comes and floods his street.  Police come through in a boat and offer to take him to safety, but he stays with his house citing that God will save him.  Well, the levy broke and as the flood waters rise he climbs to the roof of his house just as a helicopter passes overhead.  A search and rescue team throws a ladder down to the guy and begs him to get on, but he maintains that the Lord will save him.  He drowns.  He meets God and is all, “wtf, mate?”  And God says, what more do you want, I told you it was coming, then sent a boat and a helicopter.  Tom was kind of referencing that…)  He said, “well, what about penecillan?  Not everything’s a miracle.”

Tom was with me the whole time.  It’s nice that even if we never have a kid, we’ve got each other.

By the way, I peed in the cup and it was negative.  There was no miscarriage or anything, because there never was a baby.  There was only a crazy Wendy.

And now I am even more pissed about Courtney and Geo ttc.  It’s not their fault at all, but I hate them for it.

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highs and lows

Life’s been a series of peaks and valleys here lately.  I’d say last night was a valley, although valleys are lush and beautiful, and last nigh was depressing and scary.  Tom got home from work at about 5:40, he walked in the room and immediately said, “what’s wrong?”  I talked a little b.s. about other stuff, and when we both got quiet again he said, “I can’t tell if this is your worried face or your peaceful face.”  I asked him how he knew, and he just said, “you’re my wife.”

It’s kind of nice to have someone in my corner.  So, I told him everything I was thinking, and how scared I was about spotting.  You have to understand this ALWAYS happens.  Every other month for 3 years I’ve thought we might be pregnant and my period always comes 2 – 4 weeks late.  I ALWAYS get my hopes up and it NEVER pans out for us.

After I told him, though, all of the anxiety went away.  We read some stuff that has lead us both to believe it was probably just because we made sweet love the other day, and decided to just hope for the best.  We’ll see the doctor this afternoon and ask her.  If it turns out we’re not pregnant, at least visiting the doctor is a step in the right direction.

Tom went to wushu last night from 7 to 9 pm in Rock Hill.  We were really hungry when he left.  We hadn’t had anything since dim sum around noon.  (So you know we started being hungry around 1.)  He said he’d bring home dinner, and I think we were both on Asian time, which is when we completely underestimate how long things acually take, and figured alright, he’ll be home around 9 with dinner.  Well, he probably got back to our neighborhood between 9:30 and 9:45, went to Target to get groceries, came home and cooked dinner.  He woke me up from a sound sleep (for real – I was SOUND asleep) at 11:30 to eat dinner.  I love food way more than sleep, so I was really thrilled until 3 am when I was up tossing and turning.  Anyway… the whole point of this paragraph was to remind myself how good we’re doing.  We had turkey burgers on some kind of delicious whole grain bread, big dark leafy green salads and bowls of strawberries.

We went to Zaxby’s and Chickfila over the weekend, but at least we are getting back into the swing of things for the week.

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Just in case this pregnancy nonsense pans out, I’m eating more roughage.  I watched this documentary called, “Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead.”  This guy drinks juice, and only juice, all day every day for 60 days.  It sounds crazy, but the whole premise was that he is nursing his body back to health and drastically switching from a meat and potatoes guy to a “stuff that is green” guy.  What got to me wasn’t the incredible weight loss, but a look at the average American dinner plate.  It’s 50% meat, 25% vegetable (maybe) and 25% starchy white potatoes or some kind of white bread.  And I wash it all down with a couple of sodas.

I don’t really mind fruits and vegetables.  My Dad, for example, could never do the juice thing, because he doesn’t really like carrots – much less carrot juice.  I like carrots, well, at least I can tolerate them.

Okay, so, for breakfast today and yesterday, I had Kashi Something-Or-Other cereal.  You know?  That hippie cereal with all the good crap in it?  I threw in a handful of blueberries.  I did have a burger yesterday – but I didn’t want to throw it out.  It was leftover from my birthday lunch.  Tuesday and Wednesday I had a big ol’ honkin’ salad with dark leafy greens.  The Tuesday one also had cucumber and green pepper in there.

Wait, wait, let me do it this way:
Tuesday: Huge salad w/ green pepper, pear, cucumber.  Cereal with blueberries. Chicken spaghetti
Wednesday: Cereal with blueberries.  Big dark green salad.  Banana. Carnitas burrito from Chipotle
Thursday:  Cereal with blueberries. Banana. Corn on the cob (x2).

Plus, I’m drinking water.  I’m sipping a soda right now and it’s very, “meh.”  Alright, so the diet’s not perfect.  Basically, it’s what I normally did, one meal a day at dinnertime, plus some healthy stuff.  But, I can’t go wrong cutting out the soda.   I can’t go straight to juice.  Pregnant people are supposed to do a lot of milk, right?  Don’t they say that?  So, I’m trying to do milk daily.  And eat something for every color of the rainbow everyday.

I don’t like bananas… but I’m willing to suffer through it.   I also think my lack of eating vegetables has to do with my skin burning so easily.  I forget the connection, but the guy in the movie said something about how the green stuff helps turn sunlight into something.    Tom and I both at one point during the movie looked at each other and were like, “why are they talking to us like we’re 5? Oh, right, because we never learned this stuff.”

So, on today’s menu… I need to add something red, and something green.  An orange wouldn’t hurt, although oranges and yellows are kind of grouped together. ( )  How many servings of fruit and vegetables are you supposed to eat per day?  I have no clue.  I’ll have to look into that.  I feel like it was 5 or 6.   Ok, i Googled it and it’s 2 – 4 fruits, 3 – 5 veggies.

It felt good to go shopping in the produce section and no where else.  It’s like… man… why haven’t we been doing this all along?  Why am I surprised that a diet of processed foods from boxes have left me feeling as bland as their cardboard packaging? And my addiction to soda is downright scary.

I’m thinking about a salad with pears and strawberries.  Maybe some walnuts, too.  It’s nice to feel excited about this stuff.  No weight change.  I don’t really care.  I will eventually join a pool or something to lose weight.  But, even if I’m fat… can’t go wrong eating all this green stuff, right?

Another thing that sticks out in my mind is:
“Use Sparingly: Refined Grains—White Bread, Rice, and Pasta; Potatoes; Sugary Drinks and Sweets; Salt”

Sparingly. That blows my mind. Sparingly. Sparingly is just a tiny pinch, right?  So, no more Velveeta Shells n’ Cheese every night.  No more chugging Cherry Coke.  I’m avoided stuff in boxes.  The less processed the better.


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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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