This has been a bad day so far. It all started when this guy sideswiped my car while I was driving friggin 50mph on the freeway this morning. I mean, for reals? I was on my way to work, and this guy in the lane to the left of me, which was almost stopped, decided to come over to my lane, where I and other responsible drivers were going about 50. Well, this guy must’ve not looked over his shoulder because as I was happily singing with Jack Johnson in my car, I hear a loud noise, my car moves a little bit to the side, and I fuckin realize that I had been HIT. Aaaaargh! We pull over, CHP is miraculously there (I guess he just happened to be right there, a couple cars behind us), exchange info, and I get to work 15 mins late. It was that quick.
I’m ok—but my car isn’t (at least aesthetically for now). I love my car, although it’s nothing special. But it’s the first car I’ve ever bought and PAID OFF and so I’m pretty attached to it.
Add to that just work, and realizing I made this HUGE mistake last week. YUP, I’m ready to start this weekend. With lots of wine. Ahhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hate it.
During lunch today, I shared with a girlfriend that I was nearing ovulation (because, you know, that IS appropriate conversation over Thai food and oh-my-god-I’m-so-excited-about-it). This friend is a couple of years younger than me, and is not really one to offer advice in terms of TTC. It’s just that we share things about our lives because we’re cool like that. Well, today she told me that I’m thinking too much about getting pregnant, and that it should happen soon. Because she’s the getting-preggo-guru and all. And right this second, 4 hours later, I still can’t let it go.
I feel like because I know so much now about my body, and my menstrual cycle, and statistics derived from studies conducted on reproductive capacities of females and males alike, I now think about it too much. I feel like just because I’m dropping knowledge about progesterone, basal body temperatures, luteal phases, and delayed ovulation, I now think too much about it. Of course, I beg to differ.
But, it makes me wonder, does it mean I’m thinking about it too much? Should I just let myself wonder, on the 28th day of my cycle, where my period is and when it doesn’t show for a week be CONVINCED that I’m pregnant? Without charting my temps, I would think I’m pregnant EVERY-FRIGGIN-MONTH. Oh my God that would be torture.
So yea. I guess that’s the last time I’ll mention it to her for a while. Grrr..
I actually feel some right-sided lower ab pain, and I wonder if it’s ovulation pain. It is amazing to me how much more you notice when you have an idea what’s going on in your body. My temp went down a degree today, but that doesn’t really mean anything except that I haven’t ovulated, which I already know. I think it may stay down until Friday/Saturday and then start going up Saturday/Sunday, which would totally correspond to what the OV Watch is reading because as it stands, it’s giving me ovulation days of Friday/Saturday.
Joe didn’t get home from work until midnight last night, but I DID send him a text message before I went to bed to PRETTY PLEASE wake me up so we could keep up with THE Gameplan. He happily obliged.
Aaahhh I just hope this all works!!!!! Come to think of it, this is really the first month that we’re actually “trying”, as in ACTIVELY trying to make it happen. There were so many things (ie, vacation to the Philippines, BLEEDING, a super long cycle, reintroducing vigorous running, WORK) in the previous cycles that just didn’t make it feasible to procreate. But this time I feel like we are doing it right.
I’ve been thinking on and off the last 24 hours what the gameplan is going to be now that I should be nearing ovulation (specifically, t-2 days). It has been touted that the key to getting pregnant really is having sperm already there to meet your precious egg when it is released, which is why having sex a few days before ovulation really does increase the chances of them having a very fateful meeting (and thus resulting in a little bitty zygote, aka a baby!). Then I also read about how out of the gazillions of sperm that is released when a man ejaculates, only about 400 or so makes it through the vagina/cervix gauntlet, making it up your fallopian tubes where the egg is released, and that lucky ONE penetrates the egg’s outer layer and fertilizes it. It takes 20 minutes for the sperm to claim it’s egg and win (against all the other spermies). Once it latches on, the outer layer of the egg (called the corona radiata—wow, takes me back to Bio 103!) actually “lifts” (kind of) which then prevents all the other sperm from fertilizing the same egg (of course there are exceptions).
I really want as much healthy, vigorous sperm up in there when I do ovulate. But that doesn’t equate to having sex as many times as humanly possibly in a day (thank God), because it takes at least 24 hours for men to “replenish” (at least to a good amount of sperm). Jeeeezus. I mean there are actually studies on this! Which leads me to the gameplan, because I am too type A (read: control freak sometimes) and I’m a planner by heart.
Yesterday: AM sex because my watch said FERTILE! Woot!
Today: PM sex, which is a good 36+ hours since yesterday’s rendezvous. Plenty of time for replenishment in between. I think this will actually be the one that does the trick.
Tomorrow: PM sex
Friday: All bets are off!
I think tomorrow’s temp will start going up, and I should be ovulating Friday (most likely) or Saturday. Joe goes camping with his buddies Saturday morning, so
we might even sneak another session in there I might have to coerce Joe into a quick romp before he gets ready. Oh my goodness—lovemaking down to a science, y’all. That’s what it’s all about.
The surprise was a success, and it was one of the best weekends ever. Joe had some suspicions in the morning that something may have been brewing because he knew “how I operate<d>” (his words, not mine!), but I was able to throw him off the scent. He was so HAPPY to be around his friends who came from near and far to celebrate HIM! Everybody shouting surprise when we walked in the bar was icing on the cake. I am so exhilirated to have pulled this whole thing off for him—he deserves to be appreciated. Last night, as we drifted off to sleep, he murmurs to me that is was a very good weekend indeed.
In other news, I am still waiting to ovulate. It is starting to look like my cycle this time will be just as long as the last one, if not longer. I was a little disappointed about this, BUT, I am trying to stay positive and will fake it until I make it. I just can’t let myself get too disappointed, or dwell on it. Besides, what is there to be disappointed about? Ovulating a week later? So what? Yup, exactly. There is nothing to worry about. Sometimes I think I create unnecessary angst based on too-high expectations I have of my body (read: a 28-day cycle). And I’m going to stop doing that, starting today.
I wanted to write a whole post dedicated to the other half of this journey, Joe. Mostly because his birthday is this weekend, and really because although this is my journey to motherhood, this is our journey to parenthood.
Joe and I met almost 5 1/2 years ago at a bar. Really. On a random Wednesday night in December. My girlfriend and I just had sushi, and we had some time to kill before a party that I was going to, so she suggested going to a bar that I myself have never been to. I had recently turned 21 then, so I happily obliged. I mean, a chance to go to real bar and flash my ID to prove I’m of legal age to drink? Hells-to-the-yeah! And off we went.
When we walked in the bar, there were maybe 4 people there. Two of them were Joe and his buddy, grabbing drink and watching who-knows-which-sports-show was on TV that night. My girlfriend and I ended up sitting next to the gentlemen I didn’t even notice when we walked in, and a few—ok ok, who am I kidding?!—A BUNCH of cocktails later, Joe asked me for my number. And my friend and I left to go to a party. I never thought I would hear from Joe again, really, or even remotely thought anything at all would come out of that quite fateful night, but here we are now, ready to start a family. Wow. Even I’m amazed at how far we’ve come.
I have not always been so positive about our relationship, and I think this is because I was much younger (he is 8 years older than me). Every time we hit a rough patch, I always wanted to jump ship. He never really believed I would do it though because he himself was so convinced that what we had was special, and that we were so right for each other. He always told me that we were teammates, and that we just fit. I believed him most of the time, and other times I second-guessed what we had. Until we decided we were ready to have a baby.
Our relationship has grown leaps and bounds since this whole baby-making thing was put in our agenda. I have to say that I love him more now than I ever have. He and I reveled in the possibility of creating life, and then actually rearing a child, when we first found out we were expecting. He loved me more even though the pregnancy hormones were getting the best of me. He supported me through the heartache of miscarriage, held me when I sobbed, and bought me wine when I needed more to numb the pain. And most of all, he has stayed positive as we hope for another blessing, telling me that it will happen again soon. And on my darker days when I’m feeling like it’s just taking forever to get pregnant again, I think of his optimism and cling to it like a lifeline. I believe him.
This weekend is his birthday (woot!). Joe is not big on celebrating his birthdays—he never was. I’m the one who loves parties, not him. But this year, it will be a good birthday. I have invited a few of his closest friends from out of town to celebrate with us, and it’s a surprise. My man has never had a surprise like this in his life, and it makes me so happy to know just how elated he will be when he sees his dearest friends, all gathered together to celebrate him.
I woke up this morning feeling so content, and just plain happy. And hopeful. Do you ever have mornings like that? I went to the gym, did my workout, and came home. And as I was standing in the shower, it dawned on me why I felt this way. I had the most wonderful dream last night, and it just felt so real. Joe and I were sitting together somewhere, and he had a baby—our baby—in his arms. And I leaned over and kissed our baby’s soft, pink cheek, and I was happy. Soon, that is where we’ll be.
This weekend I will celebrate the man whom I love, who is already the exact same man in my dream. We are so ready.
My wish is to be pregnant by July 23rd. Because that would’ve been my due date, and to be expecting again on my would’ve-been-due-date-day would make it so much easier to get through that day.
I consider myself a very positive person. Almost to a fault, almost to the point where people who don’t know me well are under the impression that I truly believe that everything is made up of rainbows and sunshine. And 99% of the time, I am. I try to be positive about things because to me, it’s not worth it to be negative. I do allow myself to grieve when necessary, to be sad, to be angry when the situation warrants it, because I’ve learned from experience that if I ignore these things, I tend to BLOW UP, and it’s not pretty. Lately, meaning starting yesterday afternoon, I’ve started to feel this familiar nagging exhaustion. I’m not physically tired, but maybe more mentally (and for me, thus emotionally too) tired. I pump myself up and stay positive, continually look on the bright side, wear a smile, etc etc. And then I hit a wall. And then I just don’t feel like doing that for a day or 2. It’s hard to take a break though, because then people notice and they wonder what the hell is wrong with you.
Today I feel exhausted. I have a short-ish fuse. And I just don’t feel like doing anything to keep up the positive vibes. Not today. BUT, I have to. I have a lunch date in 28 mins with a girlfriend I haven’t seen in months (Kim V), and I invited one of my friends (Imelda) for a bbq tonight. And I actually think that this will be good for me. To remind me that things are ok, and no, I don’t need to hide.
I spent the majority of my weekend surrounded by babies and/or pregnant women, and while it wasn’t awful, it also was not easy. I seriously constantly felt the pressure (which could very well be self-imposed). My cheeks started to hurt from all the fake smiling. I had to get away, and be around my girlfriends who did not have babies/babies on their minds. Because sometimes I just can’t handle all the face-to-face baby-related stimulation.
I’m currently on CD 11, and my OV watch has not given me the go signal to go at it like rabbits with Joe just quite yet. I’m hoping that I get a fertile reading this week.
While I was putting my shoes on in my garage yesterday morning, I noticed that Joe has left some of his CDs face down next to my shoes. I was curious which artist it was, so I started to read the songs to see if I recognize any of them. There was more than one CD, thus they were labeled “CD1”, “CD2”, and “CD3”. And I automatically thought of CYCLE DAY 1, CYCLE DAY 2… Not compact disc, people, CYCLE DAY. Wow. Then driving home, I saw the acronym “BBT”, for a company name or something. So what did I think of? BASAL BODY TEMPERATURE. Oh Lordy. What is this world coming to?!
And there’s not much in other news. I’m on CD7 (see what I mean?), and I’ve been religiously wearing my OV watch. I’ve also been charting my BBT (there it is again!) religiously, so I can see more of a pattern when I do ovulate. Going back to the watch though—I was actually kind of nervous that I would have lots of problems on it because I read a lot of reviews from dissatisfied customers. I haven’t had any problems though, and I am so far very pleased with how easy it’s been to use it.
I just went down to the cafeteria to get myself some breakfast, and the man ahead of me in line paid for my food! It was probably $3 total, but nonetheless, HE PAID FOR MY FOOD! I couldn’t believe it—he was standing right next to me and said “I have it. Don’t worry about it. <big smile>”. I think sometimes we all forget that all people have good in them, and today was a good reminder that this world is full of goodness. And even though people don’t pay for my food all the time (I wish!), this little encounter reminds me that sometimes, even if I need to squint to see it, people are first and foremost good.
<filing away for the next time I’m PMS-ing, which I hope isn’t in another 10 mos or so…>