Life in my head...

Be warned

Be warned:  If you call me when I'm asleep, there are no bounds to the imagination when it comes to what I might say.  Sunday on the way to church, I had one of my sledgehammer migraines.  I'd been a bit pissy while getting ready for church, but I hadn't had any other prodromal symptoms, so the migraine was a bit of a shock.  Anyway, I made it through church without vomiting or fainting or anything else that might embarrass me.  When we went home, I went straight to bed.  Sometimes I have to go to bed because that is what the migraine demands, sometimes I go to bed because I just need to escape from my reality.  My mother called at what would be, for any normal person, a reasonable time.  I was asleep.  Unfortunately for all involved, I make quite the lively conversationalist when I'm asleep.  I'll talk to anyone about anything while I'm asleep, and I'll sound like I know what I'm saying, but I don't.  Mom experienced that when she called.  I brightly told her that we would go where they were with the baby.  1) I don't have a baby. 2) they weren't anywhere special, and I had no intention of going to their house.  Mom asked me to repeat myself, which I happily did, and then she asked if I were asleep.  "Umm, yeah, I guess I'm asleep!"  At least I'm a cheerful sleep talker.

I just finished Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir, and I loved it!  I knew the ending from history class, but I just kept hoping that Lady Jane Grey would grow old and have a happy marriage.
I'm listening to Cowboy Junkies.  I had forgotten how wonderful they were until that first track started.

Another day with a good book

One of my coworkers loaned me three books by the same author, and I'm loving the first one!  It's called What the Cat Dragged In by Gilbert Morris.  I can't wait to finish this one and get on to the next! 

Today is a crap day as far as migraines go, but I'm still going to tough it out and go to work.  If I ever manage to get pregnant, I'll need the sick days.

Flood in the house

Our dishwasher flooded yesterday, and water ended up under the carpet.  Whee.  We had to pull the carpet up and run a fan all night to dry the padding out.  I guess I should be grateful it wasn't worse.  I have a migraine today, it's sort crept up on me.  I'd love to just go to bed, but I have to teach childbirth class tonight.  That should be interesting, as I'm already having dysphasia from it. 

on a happier note

I made it through the night without printing out divorce papers and having them ready for Monday filing.

On to my books!  I just finished A Thousand Splendid Suns, and I was thoroughly pleased with it.  I was so afraid that it would not live up to the expectations set by The Kite Runner.  It's definitely as good as The Kite Runner.  It was one of those stories that you can't wait to see how it ends, but when it does you are so sorry it's over and you don't know how the characters' lives go on.

life is, well, life

If any of you are still out there reading, I'm sorry for my absence.  I just get really sick of talking about my migraines.  They are my life, they consume me and affect every thing I do and think.  And now that I've thrown trying to conceive into my already chaotic, miserable life,  I have even less I feel like talking about.  We have reached the point where in vitro fertilization is probably my only option.  In vitro is expensive and offers no guarantees.  But how do I accept a "no" and go on?  I can't.  I hate that my life is so in control of others and other things.  I don't have the final say over anything.  I cannot even decide to just go for the IVF, because I'm married and it's his choice, too.  I feel bound and tied by the wishes and needs of others.  We went to a movie tonight, and because of the subject matter there were a lot of teen girls in the theater.  And I remembered what that was like, and it made me sad.  When I was 18 I had the world at my feet and all the potential to make it what I wanted.  I answered to no one except my parents, and at that point they just wanted me to make something of my life.  I was healthy, I was pretty, and I had a million choices and options.  And I made them, and I can't go back.  And I'll always wonder if they were the right choices.  If I'd married someone else, would I have started trying to conceive earlier, and therefore avoided all these problems?  If someone had told me when I was 18 that this would be my life at 35, I don't know that I would have continued on with life.  I hate hurting all the time.  I hate working every day with pregnant women, many who do nothing but piss and moan about the irritations of pregnancy; I would give anything to be in their place.  I hate being 35 and knowing that this is my life.  This is as good as it gets, unless something miraculous happens.  And I don't know if I can face that existence.

On a lighter note, my dear cat keeps me constantly entertained and loved.  I understand how women become that old crazy lady with all the cats.  It doesn't seem like such a bad way to be.  To be loved by a cat is to be truly loved, because they do not throw their affections about lightly.  A small house surrounded by cats and NO people?  Sounds like as close as we get to heaven on earth.

I feel like writing again

My head has gotten so much better!  I'm even trying to wean off all my preventatives.  Potentially stupid, I know, but I'm trying to grow a bebe here, and Class C meds often conflict with les enfants.  No pregnancy yet, but we're working hard on it.  And by working hard, I mean spending money.  This month it was $1,400.  Pills, injections, and an IUI.  I'll find out on Oct. 29 if this one took.

Harry Potter, pictures, and job interviews

On a positive note, my migraines have been very compliant and nice lately.  Pain free completely? No.  Bearable? Absolutely.  Lamictal is my new best friend.  And Toradol injections.  But on to the rest of life.

I have been waiting in breathless anticipation for an opportunity to buy Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on ebay.  Why ebay?  Because my OCD commands that I must read the British versions.  So, I get it.  I start reading.  And I realize very quickly that I am lost.  I am lost because I completely skipped Book 6!  So, off to ebay again, only to discover that Half Blood Prince is outrageously priced.  I've contacted one of my favorite British Sellers, and she says she thinks she can get it, but until then I'm frothing at the mouth.  Oh, the agony!  And this is one of the many reasons I need an anti-depressant.  Because any normal person would just go to Barnes & Noble and buy the damn paperback of the thing and have done with it.  But.I.just.can't.do.that.

Next, I have lost my bridal portrait.  We've never had it framed, and it's always been stored in a box with my college diploma and a couple of other important pictures.  We have also been collecting photographic art for years, waiting to have a "real" home to hang them in.  So I decide the other day that now was the time.  And I could only find 3 of the art pieces.  And frenzied searching ensued.  I adore Tim, but sometimes he drives me nuts.  He promised he would find them when he got home.  He went straight to the closet I'd already torn apart 3 times and said, "Hmmm, there not in here."  And this is why women snap and poison their husbands.  I KNOW they're not in there!  Finally I find the rest of the art in the bottom of one of the many unpacked boxes that populate our home, and now they are at the frame shop.  But that leaves my wedding portrait.  I cannot find it anywhere.  Tim has made me promise not to dismantle any more closets, and he has assured me that he will find it.  I'll believe it when I see it.

I've been interviewing for jobs outside of labor & delivery.  After 10 years of nursing, I think I finally deserve dayshift.  But my career path of traveling around the country and going to law school has completely removed me from the dayshift path.  So, I'm looking for jobs in outpatient centers.  I still do my birthing classes, but I need a break from babies.  It's too hard to watch everyone else in the world have babies while you're spending all your extra income at the fertility clinic. 

So, that's me now, finally updating my neglected blog.  But that's the problem with blogging about a life full of sickness--sometimes you just don't feel like talking about it.

All I can say right now has been said

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JqfGqOx2iDQ&eurl=&v3

Fertility frustrations

I started out with my fertility specialist so hopeful.  Now I've been through 3 rounds of Clomid, an IUI, a round of letrazole, and now I have to decide if we're going to do another IUI tomorrow.  That was the plan, but I only have one mature follicle, so it seems like a complete waste of money this month.  I called to cancel my IUI appointment, and the scheduling girl told me that if I changed my mind, I could call their after-hours line.  Now how could she know that I'm going back and forth in mind about this, second guessing our decision?  I guess experience working in the fertility clinic with hormonal, hopeful women.  So maybe a baby this month, with a miracle.  If not, I'll start on injectables next month.  That should be fun when combined with my migraines.  I've had 90 days of pain due to all the hormones.  Somehow, I think our future child may hear about that when they hit the Terrible Teens and say things like, "I wish I were never born!"

blah blah blah

I'm a Protestant, but I think I'm coming to believe in purgatory.  Purgatory is being almost 35 and being forced to work with two twenty-somethings.  The constant personal phone calls, texting, and inane conversation is enough to put one over the edge.  Add a brand-new marriage for one of them (let's call her I'm The Better Christian and I Have Big Fake Boobs--or Barbie Bitch for brevity's sake) that is so obviously a fairy tale here on earth, and I spend most of my work time in great need of Phenergan.  A few weeks ago, Barbie Bitch gave me a religious lecture.  Obviously if I were a better Christian, I wouldn't have migraines, and I'd be pregnant.  Look at her, she's got just the right amount of piety, and she landed Prince Charming!  I managed to hold it together after this exchange, but this weekend my bitch claws came out, helped by the massive doses of hormones I'm taking.  Apparently, my chronic illness, through my call-ins, is interfering with Her Perfect Life.  After the millionth subtle reminder that I suck, I let her have it.  I felt like I was back in high school, and I HATE that.  I'm an adult, I want to deal in adult situations and work with other adults.  Pray for me that I might get out of nursery school!