The Innernet Sucketh

My due date, carefully calculated by the Innernets and my cycle, is January 25, 2009. While I think that is a fabulous thing (the innernet giving me a due date) I am slightly not happy about it. The last really fucked up miscarriage I had was before I got knocked up with the Chicken and I had not yet gotten a due date (long story for another post). Therefore, there was no "OMG I would have had a baby on XYZ" date.

As the new car smell wore off of my uterus MANY years ago I don't have that "oh of course I'll have a baby in January. I'll probably deliver on my due date and I will smell like roses the whole fucking time" mentality. Nope. I am going to relax and take care of myself, but I'd be lying if I wasn't checking for blood every time I visit the bathroom. I just don't want to get blindsided by badness, and this pregnancy is about two minutes old.

Bitching aside, want to hear something that is AWESOME? The first date of my last period, a day that I will have to tell a million fucking people over the next few weeks/months/etc. is April 20th. That's right people. I'm carrying a 420 baby. I'm that cool.

I Can Haz Urine?

Since blogger fucking hates me and refused to upload the picture I created, I went to I Can Has Cheezburger and created my masterpiece there. Yes, that is my pee stick. I wasn't planning on announcing in such a bold way, but since only two of you (Anna and Jenn) commented that you clicked on the link in the previous post and figured out what I was trying to say in a subtle fashion, well here you fucking go.

Humping Like A Motherfucker

When I told Anna that I was attempting to get knocked up she told me to go to Fertility Friend and use their handy dandy software to chart my temperature and other fertility signs. Like a good friend, I did. My chart looked like a fucked up motherfucker, and according to the fabulous software behind the scenes, I did not ovulate this cycle. Also, I was probably dead. This past week my uterine area has been fairly pissed off, with weird pressure and crampiness that was not appreciated. I decided that either I was pregnant or my uterus was going to up and die on me any minute.

Instead of peeing on a stick early this weekend, I decided to head to Santa Barbara and enjoy my paid mini vacation with Teddy Bear. Of course, it is fairly hard to enjoy yourself when you are surrounded by douche bags. We stayed at the Fess Parker Doubletree (about 1 mile south of State Street and across the street from the beach, Anne). Remember the cost of the room? That was the corporate "we're spending about 100k this weekend at your establishment rate." The best rate I could find online for a normal person was $465 per night on a weekend-just to give you an idea of the type of place we were at this weekend. See the pretty room? It looks just like the room we stayed in, except for the pubic hair and clogged drain.

I'm not saying all this to be an annoying braggart, more to set the stage for the fucking imbeciles that fed me wheat on Saturday night. I expect morons when you're at a burger joint, they don't get paid enough to give a fuck about me and I understand that fact. But when you (or your husband's company) are paying out the motherfucking ASS to stay somewhere I expect to be able to EAT ME SOME FUCKING FOOD. *ahem* I don't have the energy to blog about all of it right now, I will this week I promise. The highlights contain fun times like the moment I realized that my fancy dress for the fancy dinner was at home and I was in Santa Barbara. Or the moment I realized that I had just dined on sub-par creme brulee that an asshat had added Bailey's Irish Cream to in a fit of insanity. Yes, Bailey's is a Sam no-no due to the wheaty goodness they use while making it.

The weekend was pretty much a bust, I didn't drink because I wasn't sure whether or not I was pregnant, I didn't want to pee on a stick and get all excited and have my step-mother-in-law smell it on me. (The excitement not the pee you asshole!) But now I'm home and in bed loving teh innernets in my undies, listening to my Chicken procrastinate like a fucking professional. I have one more day of student teaching left and then I am fucking enjoying my summer, people. Enjoying the fuck outta it.

Annaland

I called Anna this morning stressing about my temperature chart and she was having a bit of trouble talking me down off the ledge of my insanity. This resulted in today's quote of goodness:

"Let go and Let God, Sam," quoth Anna.

And then I laughed and laughed and laughed and it was all better.

Please Tell Me

Tell me that you all know that the video wasn't my [Hallmark holiday] gift, because if any of you seriously thought that my husband is that kind of a dick AND that I would put up with said dickishness I would be ashamed. Ashamed of you. However, I do not take suggestions lightly, and I believe that Teddy Bear needs Box Lunch: The Layperson's Guide to Cunnilingus written by the lovely Diana Cage. Of course it is written by a woman for two (or more if you'd like I suppose) women to enjoy, but even the most manly man could likely get something out of it. In my opinion, one can never practice the fine art of going downtown overly much.

As far as dildos go, I had one once about fifteen years ago. I loved it dearly and it served a certain purpose at the time. Since then? Meh. I don't really have any needs that aren't well served by TB or my own two hands. You're welcome for the over share.

I had someone at the house one time that observed a random Sam bra hanging out on the couch. He was rather surprised at its plain cotton blah-ness. I suppose if you talk to me at length you might think that I have a whole ball of kinky sexiness at my disposal, including HOT HOT undies. Actually I am all about comfort in my everyday wear. I love cotton. There. I said it. I fucking hate lace, itching, tight rubbing tagged misery. I have issues with skin sensitivity, not that I get rashes but that my stupid body likes to interpret normal clothing as BAD! and HORRID! and OUCH! Some days are better than others. If society wasn't so damn obsessed with my fairly perky tits and HELLO! nipples I would never ever wear a bra. It's not like the damn things move around much without one, they just do their boob thing and occasionally attract my husband's attention.

I don't know if it is the FMS that keeps me from pursuing the crazy fun with toys sex or a unhealthy dose of apathy. I know that devoting energy to figuring out the very best vibrator seems a little silly when I am struggling to get through each day. I like to tell myself that eventually I will get tired of vanilla sex with TB and want to ramp it up to something more appliance-oriented. It's just that vanilla can be awesome. Especially big ole Wookie vanilla. RAWR!

Speaking of FMS, I haven't posted much about how I have been doing lately. The short answer is shitty. Full-time student teaching, including all the preparation before and after school is more than my body can handle. Trying to "pass" is supremely difficult right now. (By "pass" I mean appear like I am not in a fuckton of pain with every muscle in my body stiff and pissed off at me.) I only taught the equivalent of one full day last week, and I don't know if this week will be any better. At this point my supervisor is in my corner and trying to get me full credit without finishing all the hours typically necessary-due to my disability. She thinks that I am a rockstar in the classroom (she is the one that observes four lessons during the eight weeks and makes sure that I am semi-competent). So cross your fingers for me. At this point I won't go back in the fall unless I get pregnant and go into full remission. I just can't do it feeling like I do. Yay fucked up body failing me!

Damn I sound whiney today, huh? I'd really love a nice, hot bath and a couple of darvocet to take the edge off but the urge for a fetus NOT addicted to pain medication is greater. Speaking of my uterus, it's cycle day 23 and I'm having trouble resisting the urge to pee on anything that remotely resembles a pee stick. Watch out Dude and Reina!

Lamest Drug Addict EVAR!

I never updated you guys/girls on my great quest to get my drug situation in line with the baby-making situation. How about a list?

Drugs In My Big Ole Drawer of Drugs:

• Vicodin*
• Darvocet*
• Xanax
• Elavil
• Imitrex
• Qvar*
• Albuterol*
• Flonase*
• Celexa
• Cymbalta*
• Tramadol
• Ultram
• Lunesta*
• Skelaxin (sp?--too lazy to walk into my bedroom to check on the spelling)
• ... I know I'll remember something else five minutes after I hit "publish" on this post

The ones marked with an asterisk are daily medications and have been (mostly) for the last year. The doctor I saw wanted me to go down to: Flonase (allergies), Qvar (asthma), Albuterol (asthma) and .... that's it. He also recommended that I go cold turkey and just suck it up through the withdrawal. Well that sounds all good and fine if you're BATSHIT crazy. I made up my own plan: Flonase, Qvar, Albuterol and 1/2 Celexa (20mg) with the intention of going down as low as I can on the celexa without making my family and my brain hate me (more). Celexa has more acceptable side effects than Cymbalta does, and I just happened to have a shitload of it in my drug drawer from when I switched off of it to try out Cymbalta.

Now, for the what the fuck?!? part... I went cold turkey off of the pain and sleep medications. Other than the trouble sleeping (it is part of the fibromyalgia) I haven't noticed any withdrawal. Now how many people end up in rehab after becoming addicted to painkillers? How the fuck is it possible for me to have a gazillion alcoholics in my family and the only thing I've managed to be addicted to in my life is smoking (cigarettes - three years next month smoke free!!). And don't think I haven't tried when I was young and dumb and full of ... yeah. I suppose I should feel lucky but really I feel like a druggie failure. DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!! Maybe I'm developing an addiction to parenthesis. (Notice?)

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One last thing-there is a new icon on the sidebar for NaComLeavMo. The idea is that for a month you visit XX number of blogs on the participating list and leave XX comments, as well as respond to comments left on your blog. The point is to start/increase conversations on your blog, as opposed to the posting in a vacuum thing. It is also a good way to meet and greet other bloggers. Click on the picture for details about the month of commenting. If you don't know Stirrup Queen, she is the Jewish mother to the internet infertility world. Did you know that I have experience keeping a Kosher kitchen? Yes, I am talented. Remember the year I spent as a nanny for my good friend? Yep, she's Jewish and keeps Kosher so I learned the ropes. I rock.

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One last thing. I promise. Today I was out getting my eyebrows ripped off waxed and Chicken and his Little Friend found two dogs roaming the neighbor. By the time I got home they had called the owners and followed the dogs all over tarnation to keep them on the sidewalk and out of the street. I got them to hop in my car to keep them in one place until the owner showed up. She was SO happy to get her puppies back, she had been walking all over the neighborhood and park with a bag of lunch meat calling them (??). My Chicken is following in my footsteps with the saving animals thing. Good Chicken! Good Boy! Sit!

Pr0n

I love me some good porn, and at I Really Should Be Working Thanksgiving Mom is giving away a copy of Porn for New Moms. Speaking of new moms, I am currently in the throes of the two week wait (2ww). For those not in the know, this is the time between baby-making nookie and the expected arrival of the period. Is there something in there? I have no idea. I can tell you that TB and I worked on this project like champions and we'll do it all over again next month if need be. Damn sex!

I have a small request. Let's pretend that you read my blog and you know me (or TB) in real life. Okay? Then let's pretend that I post "OMGWTFBBQ!!!" the instant I pee on a stick and it is positive. THEN let's pretend that I miscarry and post it on here. IF this happens I will likely not talk about it in real life. So DON'T FUCKING BRING IT UP YOU DOUCHE CANOE! It is your responsibility to keep up to date on the blog OR don't read. There is no fucking way I am telling friends that I am pregnant and then calling them all XX number of weeks later to say "Oops! Didn't stick!" Get it? Fabulous. I knew you could do it. Go team uterus!

Return of the Cooter

Some of you may have noticed that I have been out of town (mostly) since Thursday evening. Yes, it was time again for my semi-annual scrapbook retreat on top of ole Smokey. A fitting nickname considering that I was on top of a mountain and most of the way up to 5000 ft there was an abundance of crispy-fried trees from the 2007 fires. I don't know why it upsets me so much to drive by mile after mile of burnt land but I really hate it. The reason I say I was "mostly" out of town is that although I left Thursday night I came home Friday night to get insperminated. Yes, that isn't a word but just roll with it for fuck's sake, okay? One of my scrappin' buddies commented that I was leaving for a "booty call" which is not exactly the way I saw it but whatever. I got me some sperms up in my hoo-ha and that is what matters. Did I mention that I think I am ovulating? So it wasn't just FUN sex it was BABY MAKING sex. And here is where I feel like a total asshole because either I am going to get pregnant and stay pregnant right away and feel like all the internal worrying I do is for nothing OR I'm going to have trouble and feel like an asshole for thinking that sex is going to easily lead to baby making. Because I'm not the proud owner of a vagina if my brain isn't totally fucked up and twisted like that. Whereas TB is saying, "Woot! I deposited my payload and we're going to have a baby." Can you imagine being that um...optimistic? Me neither. But I'm trying. Guess what? Chicken butt! Also, this is the longest fucking paragraph EVER. Sorry! Lastly, I've caught up on my Twitter comment responses but there were more than will show on my blog so if you're REALLY curious/nosy you may click on the OMG Not Twitter! link to see the rest. Okay? See you tomorrow. Byes!

Shit! I forgot something. The book that a few of you recommended, Taking Charge of Your Fertility? Well Anna, preggo Queen of Annaland owns it and offered to let me borrow it! TB picked it up Saturday (I had returned to scrappin') and NOW I HAVE THE POWER.


Or, um, I have the book. YAY!

PS I can't stop watching the Suck My Ass, Touch a Damn Dick video. Just. Can't. Stop. Loving. It.

My Obsession

For a long time I have been a wee bit involved with reading infertility (IF) blogs. My dear husband doesn't understand or approve, but I have my reasons. I think that he viewed it as a way to worry about what could happen when we started trying, but that wasn't it at all. I have lusted for another baby since before Chicken was out of diapers. My baby lust has resulted in a few random things, one of which is the Dude. Chicken was 6 years old and OMFG I wanted a baby and it just wasn't in the cards. So I adopted a cat. Luckily, Dude has allowed me to treat him like my baby, up to and including dressing him up on occasion. Dude is very patient and spends much of him time sleeping on me, sometimes on my head. I love it and it helps take the baby crazies away a little.

Back to IF blogs-reading about women trying to have babies soothed me, because at least they were TRYING. When they succeeded I could silently applaud and when they failed I cried with them. I was vicariously trying to conceive (TTC) through these blogs, and a small bit of me could understand the pain.

My latest obsession has been reading about the adoption triad. For those of you not up on the latest lingo, the triad includes the Adoptive parents, the Birth (or First) parents and the child. I have only posted about my adoption story once, but I am mentally working on the issue. My feelings have changed greatly in the last few years as I have gotten to a place in my life where I can open up the past and poke at it a bit. It is painful, gut-wrenching, and devastating but I am trying to get to the point where I can blog about it.

This is all a long-winded way to explain what has been going on in my head lately, as well as the changes to my sidebar. I've added and moved and deleted links, plus introduced new categories. I am going to continue to fiddle around with my template, and I have a new request from My Brand of Crazy for a purdy blog so my creative juices are a flowing. If I have fucked up your blog link/deleted you/did something else stupid like forgotten you entirely leave me a comment or something.

Annnnnnd... I am thinking about going to the dark(er) side and signing up with Twitter-but for a good cause. You know how I fuss occasionally about replying to comments and such? What if I use Twitter exclusively as a means to reply to you and your comments?

Verbal Diarrhea

Dear Reader(s),

Thanks to your fabulous advice and tasty comments (along with a small helping of brains on my part) I have concocted a master plan which is subject to change without notice. Here's the scoop 'o poop:

1. The soonest appointment I was able to make with an ob/gyn was May 7th. According to my complicated calculations involving my fingers and a little cervical mucus (totally kidding!!) I will be WAY past ovulation by then, making this cycle a bust before I even got to enjoy a round of thoroughly deep dicking. And that sucks.

2. The soonest I was able to make an appointment with MY ob/gyn was the end of May. Which meant that by the time I am able to switch medications allegedly given to me on that day I will be past the fertile time of my NEXT cycle. Please remember (for fuck's sake) that this ob/gyn I have only seen once anyway because I moved from San Diego a year ago. My old one was only good for my annual visit and not much else. I fucking hated her a little bit. Another post. Remind me sometime okay?

3. Certain RAD and AWESOME readers mentioned that I probably would not get the drugs I wanted from an ob/gyn even if I went down on him/her and my best bet would be to visit my regular doctor, which of course I left in San Diego. I really need some new doctors, huh? My San Diego doctor (not pussy doctor, just general practice doctor) was also very highly demanded and getting appointments was a pain in the ass which would lead me back to numbers 1 and 2.

4. I have gone to the local Urgent Care a few times since moving to *redacted* and noticed that there was a "normal" doctor in the same office. Meaning EASY! and CLOSE! and in my network so CHEAP! I couldn't remember the name of the place and couldn't be bothered to attempt to find paperwork to get a phone number so I just drove the 1/2 mile to Urgent Care and made an appointment for Monday afternoon. WOOT!!

5. I have two Rx for my asthma, Albuterol and Qvar. My fibro specialist does not feel comfortable refilling them. Although he'll gladly hand over Rx for vicodin and darvocet like they are yummy for my tummy. I am on the last refill of my Qvar and I will end up in Urgent Care without it. The only solution is to find a regular doctor or a pulmonologist. I try to avoid doctors with specialties. It creeps me out. I'M NOT SPECIAL DAMMIT!!

6. I looked up the medications I really want to keep taking on Safe Fetus (thanks Amanda!) and HOLY FUCK with the extra digits and cleft palate and I just couldn't keep reading any more. Everything there IS scary.

So! I may save this cycle and create a fetus playmate for my knocked up friends. Yay for me. While you are giving me input, I have a specific pregnancy/medication advice request: I want to switch my anti-depressant/anxiety medication to one more baby friendly. I would like to have some information in hand when I go to my appointment on Monday so I can say, "Well my friends inside the computer said..." My current prescription is for 60mg per day of Cymbalta, however I am taking 30mg at this time due to ramping down medications for impending fertilization (please and thank you oh gods of babydom).

The reason for this particular drug is that the fibro pain can be alleviated by the Cymbalta AND I tend to be anxious due in large part to the fibro. Thanks fibro!! I never found the pain relief side to work, however I might have needed to take more than that dosage according to my fibro specialist (one specialist is enough, thank you). Um, where was I? Oh yes. Need drug for anxiety. I have taken: Effexor (FUCK NO!), Celexa (have 3 month supply sitting in drawer), Lexapro, and Wellbutrin (to quit smoking) in the past. The Wellbutrin was horrible - don't give the anxious chick uppers! Any suggestions? Bueller?

Oh My Fucking Fuckity Fuck!

I have been trying for MINUTES!! HOURS!!! DAYS!!! to make a pre-pre-natal appointment. I want to know which medications I can continue to take without creating a three-headed baby. I have already weaned myself off of an assload of medications and reduced the amount of several others. I know that without my asthma medication I will not be able to breathe, but should I stay on Qvar or switch to something more fetus friendly? I figure that this appointment should be relatively easy to make, right? HA HA HA!

Receptionist: What kind of insurance do you have?
Sam: (Uh? Who the fuck cares if you can't answer my question? Are you going to bill me for asking if you are competent? Maybe?) I have BlahBlah which is a PPO. I'd like to make a pre-natal consultation appointment.
Receptionist: How far along are you?
Sam: I'm not pregnant, I'm taking medications and I...
Receptionist: (interrupts) Oh you're infertile!
Sam: No. I'm not infertile. I have a medical condition...
Receptionist: (interrupts) You're high risk!
Sam: NO!@!! I fucking want to talk to a doctor. About medication. To avoid a three-headed baby. BEFORE I get pregnant.
Receptionist: Oh, you want a consultation.
Sam: (OH MY FUCKWAD DIDN'T I JUST SAY THAT!!!) Yes. I want to know which medications I can and cannot take and replace medications that will not work while pregnant.
Receptionist: Well the doctor will not prescribe medication that is not approved for pregnancy.
Sam: (Fucking bloody hell...)

Seriously people. How fucking difficult is this to understand? Really? I know I should have done this BEFORE but I missed my appointment last month due to that whole school/teaching/fucking fuckwit fuckers. Now I cannot get an appointment until May 7th. That is after I called just about every place in town. I'm considering dropping all non-essential medications and stealing TB's sperm in the middle of the night when I ovulate. Anyone want to hold him down while I get the goods?

Cycle Day Uh What?

I was expecting Aunt Flo to visit on Friday, which would make it cycle day (CD) 1. However, she sort of popped by and then left again, returning for a cup of tea on Saturday and then nothing. Finally, today she returned with a vengeance so YAY! But? Was Friday CD 1 or is it today? ARGGH!!! It is totally fucking with my master plan. Now I'm going to have to engage in LOTS MORE intercourse with TB just to be sure. *sigh* Any helpful words of wisdom out there in blogland?

And Another Thing...

I have a lot of things on my mind. Some good, some difficult, none indifferent. I apologize for the recent radio silence, sometimes I need to wrap my mind around things before I blog them for the world to read. There are a few topics that I don't feel ready to address, but they are bouncing around the empty space in my noggin and eventually will come out to play. First off, I have a little "business" to discuss. I am in the (lengthy) process of removing all facial pictures from my blog as well as direct references to the city that I call home. I am student teaching for eight weeks and feel that it is inappropriate for the parents of my kids to see my face AND my naked ass if they should find this blog. I felt I was left with the choice of censoring my blog (fuck no!) or removing my face. And Chicken's face. And Teddy Bear's face, etc.

When I am no longer in the classroom my face will (probably) reappear for your amusement/enjoyment. One might ask, "Well Sam, that is all good and well but what about your tattoos? Those tend to identify a person rather easily!" I'm glad you asked, gentle pretend reader. As you might guess, I do not wear clothing in the classroom that displays my tattoos. I do not talk about my tattoos with students or parents. I think I'm good. If you (not pretend gentle reader) feel that I have forgotten something important, just let me know!

For the good news: Teddy Bear and I are going to try to get pregnant next cycle. You might recall that I put getting knocked up on my New Year's resolution list, however I did not discuss the prospect any further. Teddy Bear and I have been talking about it privately and I did not feel comfortable blabbing about it here before we had reached a decision. Which brings me to another thing...

I have always claimed that I do not let the my readership cause me to censor myself. Uh? Wrong! The baby discussion is a HUGE example of self-censorship. Here is a simple equation for you to ponder:

I am 34 years old.
+
I have been off the pill for 6+ months to allow my body to remember how a "normal" cycle works.
+
I have wanted to give Chicken a sibling for a VERY long time.
+
I am finally in a relationship where I feel comfortable saying, "I want a child with this man."
=
The loudest clanging of any biological clock that has ever clanged.

And yes, I understand that I am not the first or only woman to ever lose her collective shit about wanting a baby. However, I have not felt able to blog about it because I didn't want any real-life readers in TB's camp to give him shit/feel sorry for him/suggest heavy sedation for me. Therefore, I have kept most of the crazies bottled up except on those occasions when ovulation made me especially crazy and I bugged the shit out of TB. The logical side of my knew that I am in the middle of school (which ends December '08) and it would be stupid to have a baby now. But! Logic is irrelevant when one's eggs are screaming: "For fuck's sake FERTILIZE ME!!!"

Through careful calculation I arrived at May for the penis-in-vagina without condom date. If I manage to get preggers in the first two cycles I will be out of the first trimester barf-fest in time for the fall semester to start and deliver well past the last day of school. Because everyone knows all about the best laid plans and blah blah I'm not listening.

This all leads to a gentle warning: I will be blogging about Trying To Conceive (TTC). I will NOT discuss actual acts of conception in mind-boggling detail, however I might say casually that we are "trying" in the next five minutes so DON'T FUCKING CALL ME AND INTERRUPT!!! Also, Chicken and I discussed the whole thing (again not in detail-ew!) and he wants to know when we find out that we're pregnant. He's excited but knows that I've miscarried before so there is a goodly chance of a pregnancy not sticking the first or (insert number) time around.

I hope it works. I hope it "takes" the first time around. I hope we get a healthy baby. *crosses fingers* I can't wait to share the experience with my two favorite people, my Chicken and my Teddy Bear.

Post Script: I know that I'm the only one that pays any attention to my labels, but I have added two new ones. Who Am I? is for any post that I removed pictures due to privacy concerns. Baby should be pretty fucking obvious, but is also a warning to any readers that do not want to hear about baby shit.