Everything Else

I know what it takes to get pregnant. Or, more exactly, I know what it takes to get me pregnant.


It takes being on a macro.biotic diet. Going without sugar and caffeine. Taking a busload of vitamins and supplements. Regular exercise. Positive thinking. Acupuncture. Chiropractor. Massage. Oh, and IVF. (Of course).


Most of which is hard to do when you have, um, a child.


I brought Spunx to an acupuncture appointment. (New insurance, different coverage, brand new acupuncturist). The acu refused to treat me since I had Spunx. "What will happen if he cried?"

Um. Yeah. Good point. (Even my regular acupuncturist gently says "a babysitter would be better...") The chiropractor doesn't care, and the masseuse has yet to be polled.

This is going to be difficult.

The diet is all me. I have no excuse for my failure here. It's been hard for me to constrain my diet. I have no willpower. A little a cheese, a little sugar, a decaf coffee and I'm a goner. It doesn't sound like a lot, but for me it is. (I don't know if I've ever mentioned, but I did innumerable IUIs. Double digits, I lost count IUIs. I got to compare how I responded to the same drugs with different lifestyles and diets. Trust me. I know of what I speak in this area...)

Crap. It's hard to go back to back to leaves and berries when W,hite C.astle has crept into your diet.

The supplements are easier. They're only pills, for crying out loud. Even *I* can manage to swallow a few times aday. It's the remembering that's a little difficult for me.

The exercise? EASY PEASY. Okay, not the "f.ertility y.oga" that I did the first time around, but I am constantly lugging, chasing or pushing Spunx. I'm not only at my pre-pregnancy weight, I'm six pounds under.

And as to the positive thinking... yeah. Working on that one next.

Here again

I'm in the waiting room, waiting. Waiting to be blooded, to be wanded, to get on the treadmill once again.

I have never been more terrified.

I keep trying to talk myself out of it, but logic doesn't help. I have a child; this shouldn't be as scarey as it is.

But it is.

Everything is pretty much the same as you'd expect. It's far too early in the morning, and I'm surrounded by sleepy, sullen people (mostly women). No one's happy, no one's ever happy to be here. Why is that? (okay, I know why.) I just wish that this felt... different.

Three Week Wait

That's how long its been since I posted. Wow, time really flies when... well, time really flies.

First, to all of you wrote and posted with your support: thanks. Thanks. Thanks. I love that you get it, that you're accepting and well, you get it. Thanks also to those who called H all sorts of lovely names (and you know who you are). It's sad how much I enjoyed that.

Second, you're right. H is trying to find himself and define himself now that he is no longer a son. No longer a caregiver. We had that conversation (prompted, largely, by comments and e-mails). And it was a good conversation. Enlightening, even. So thanks for getting involved: you helped strengthen my marriage.

All I need is sleep (and the will to go on)

So.

Last night I didn't get much sleep.

In case I hadn't mentioned, I'm working weekends now. New job, new boss, new responsibilities. New schedule. I'm working weekends because they've fired every third person in my department and it was put to me that I would either work weekends or not work. Which would you choose?

So, while H works a regulation Monday to Friday 9 to 5 schedule, I put in 14 hour days on Saturday and Sunday.

It sucks.

But—NEVER FEAR!—H has not let this stop his social life. It just that his social life no longer includes me. I have three days off a week; he regularly schedules activities (that don't include me) so I see him, total, for about 45 minutes per day. I have stopped being someone that he tries to make time for. (Was I ever?) I am just the babysitter he does not have to pay for.

In fact, next month H wants to take Spunx on a ski trip to Pennsylvania. Without me. Or, maybe, leave Spunks with a friend and still go on a ski trip to PA. Without me. (And if you're wondering, I don't have enough time off left to take that weekend).

Last night, there was a big party given by a friend of H's. So H got a sitter and went. Without me. And he didn't get home until 4:30AM. Leaving me to deal with Spunx nighttime feedings and fussiness (I take care of Spunks on the nights that H works, and the deal was that H would reciprocate).

Now, I'll skip over the "we're so broke that" type whines (as in, we're so broke that we can't afford the extra babysitting hours and we're so broke we can't afford a new filter for the air filter).

To get to work on time, I have to be up by 6:30AM. So usually, I'm turning in at 10:00PM.

Last night, I got to get to bed about 12:30AM. And was woken shortly after. Twice.

Now, I don't know about you, but lack of sleep makes me sad. As in depressed. As in I've already burst into tears twice today (and once last night, which was actually past midnight, so you could say that I've cried three times today if you were anal about such things).

And I'm starting to realize that H doesn't like me a hell of a lot. And that H would prefer life... Without me.