That La Kid

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!

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.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ytx1P7P4XXk

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.”

THREE F***ING YEARS.  YOU 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.