Kissing the stress (and the dream) goodbye

So, about 6 weeks ago, I started my first cycle on Clomid.

In case you're unaware, Clomid is a medication that induces ovulation in women who do not ovulate consistently on their own (like me).  It does this by (literally) screwing with your brain chemistry and tricking your body into pumping your hormone production into overdrive.  So...yeah.  It takes a women already struggling with the emotional turmoil of infertility, and ramps up her hormone levels.  Hijinks ensue.

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the well-intentioned sucker punch

I love Sunday morning for all the right reasons:  worship, sermon, fellowship, etc.  But I'll admit that I also get a big kick out of getting to show my kid off every Sunday.

My son may be barely 2, but he's charming and outgoing.  Everyone seems to know this kid, even if they don't know me or my husband.  He's just that type of toddler.

So it was no surprise when we were walking in this past Sunday that everyone was greeting him and giving him high-fives.  One very nice woman who was greeting stopped me to tell me how sweet and adorable my son is.  I thanked her, and was about to move on my way when she hit me with, "Isn't it time for another one?"

Bam.  The well-intentioned sucker punch.

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"Young lady, are you lost? This is the fertility clinic. Planned Parenthood is across the street."

When I was last at my OBGYN's office, I informed my doctor (specialist/surgeon/only person I trust with a knife in my insides) of mine and my husband's intentions to start trying for another baby.  He told me, "If you're not knocked up in 6 months, come back and see us."  (Yeah, my old doctor was pretty casual.)

Well, here we are, 6 months, hundreds of temperature readings, pills taken, and dozens of sticks peed on later and, big surprise, I'm not pregnant.

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What a long, strange trip it's been...

This officially marks 8PP's 200th post!  It's crazy to think of all the varied, bizarre topics that have been covered in this blog.

Like...identifying a gay toddler...

...and anthropomorphized cartoon tumors.

In March, I covered disgusting things people do with their placenta...

...But in April, I switched it up with an appeal to my fellow Christians to stop acting like jerks in front of nonbelievers.

I became obsessed with couponing last month and started blogging more openly about mine and my husband's difficulties conceiving a second child.

And at some point this month, I just got really sarcastic.

So thanks for sticking with me this past half a year or so, and reading my rambling rants on everything from politics to bad doctors to why IT IS SERIOUSLY PERFECTLY FINE IF MY SON WANTS HIS TOENAILS PAINTED.

And if you feel like celebrating, may I recommend a hilarious t-shirt, or maybe mug, from the 8PP Store?  All proceeds go to a good cause, namely, paying off my ridiculous stack of medical bills.

As always, thanks for reading.

Accidental versus Intentional

Because I'm a masochist, I often find myself watching that stupid MTV show, "16 & Pregnant".  I'm always amazed at the stories of "accidental" pregnancy, which normally translate to "my boyfriend is too cheap and lazy to buy condoms".

A pregnant friend of mine was telling me about a patient who goes to the same obstetrician as her.  Though pregnant, the girl is so young that she has to bring her mom with her to sign all her medical forms.

It's just baffling to me because I know so many women who want to get pregnant and can't, but these young girls don't (at least they say they don't) want to get pregnant, and they seem to do so SO easily.

Look at the contradictory advice for preventing and achieving pregnancy:

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TTC Insanity

Every morning when my alarm clock goes off, I reach with one hand to silence it while my other hand goes to the thermometer I keep next to the bed.  I pop the thermometer in my mouth and wait until it beeps, getting the reading before I so much as sit up.

Once I do sit up, I turn to my laptop and enter the temperature reading onto a handy little line graph.  Normally, I'm disappointed by what I see.

I get a shower, get dressed, and head downstairs.  While I prepare my morning coffee, I pop pills from three different bottles, kept next to the coffeepot so I don't forget.  One is a basic multivitamin, one is an iron supplement, and one is a folic acid pill, which is completely uncoated and about as easy to swallow as a handful of sawdust.

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Dear Fox Broadcasting Company...

You have four primetime television series which I follow very closely.  There are, in descending order of favoritism:  Glee, House, Bones, and Fringe.

"Glee" is about singing, dancing, nerdy highschoolers.  "House" is about a misanthropic, Vicodin-addicted genius diagnostician.  "Bones" is about a forensic anthropologist and team who assist the FBI on murder cases.  No one is still entirely sure what "Fringe" is about.  (Two universes?  Creepy bald men in hats?  Practical applications for LSD?)

But there is something that all four of these very disparate shows have in common (apart from my loyal viewership).  100% of these shows have major story arcs regarding pregnancies.

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