Tag Archives: holidays

Dec22

The Annual Woestman Christmas Card!

Posted on by
The Annual Woestman Christmas Card!

One of my favorite things to start thinking about at the beginning of the Christmas season every year is what we’ll do for our Christmas card.  The first few years of our marriage our cards were pretty bland (and last year’s was Analie’s birth announcement), but I’m getting more and more interested in making unique cards that express (some of) our personality.

This year, we had tons of fun with our card.

And I would have loved to be able to mail it to all of you.  But as it is, our Christmas card list has 100 names on it and postage was getting super expensive.

SO, please enjoy our Christmas card in blog version.  (Incidentally you will not find the phrase “Merry Christmas” anywhere on it, because we were getting so down to the wire that we weren’t sure it would be going out before Christmas.  Hehehe.)

We love you!  Even you blogosphere friends I have never met and/or don’t know are creeping on my blog.

Merry Christmas!

(This was a 5×7 front and back flat card in real life.  But the internet version can be whatever the heck you want it to be.  POSTMODERN!)

Jul6

This Is About The Time I Crushed Up 13 Boxes Of Black Snakes And Lit Them On Fire

Posted on by
This Is About The Time I Crushed Up 13 Boxes Of Black Snakes And Lit Them On Fire

Did you grow up doing Black Snakes on the Fourth of July?

I totally did.

I think they’re amazing.  Joey thinks they’re super lame.  (Sometimes I think JOEY is super lame.  I told him this in the fireworks store when he was making fun of me for freaking out about the black snakes, so don’t worry.  He knows.  And he’s cool with it.)

Anyway, I happened to be talking to The Brother about a totally different topic on Sunday afternoon, and he suggested that I try something one of his compatriots grew up doing.  Smash up 10 boxes worth of black snakes and put them in a coffee can and light it on fire.

Um, YES PLEASE.

So yesterday, I bought 13 boxes because they were on sale for super cheap.

And we don’t buy coffee that comes in cans so I used a diced tomato can, which is a little smaller and I figured would intensify whatever happened with the crushed snake powder.

I put the 78 Black Snake pellets into a freezer baggie (for extra durability) and took them out to the driveway and crushed them up very good by walking on them.  It’s the one time in my life that I have found it convenient that I weigh over 100 libs.

Then, I went inside and informed Joey how many snakes I had bought.  I didn’t think he would care about my experiment so I’d planned to do it while he was at work because:

a.) he had told me black snakes were stupid

and, b.) he had told me black snakes were stupid.

I didn’t figure he’d want to waste his time on watching something stupid.  HOWEVER.  When I informed him how many snakes I’d bought, he was all, “Wow, that sounds really stupid.  Uhhhhh, you’d better wait until I get home to do it.”

Yeah.  He obviously think it’s really stupid.

(How many times can I use the word “stupid” in a blog post?  LOTS!  and LOTS!)

I also invited Angel to come over, because she had seemed skeptical that I’d really try this and she kept being the voice of caution, suggesting I could blow and arm or eyeball off.  (That’s obviously why we moved so close to a hospital.  Safety first.)  At 6:00 yesterday evening, conditions were right to light my can of smashed up snakes on fire.

It was my favorite.

Angel’s commentary in the background was totally worth the $3.00 I spent on the snakes.  It’s pretty much the 2nd best part of the video (hi Angel!), a close second only to the erupting mound of flaming snake.

And of course we had to destroy the flaming mound of, um, Black Snake after its fire was extinguished.

Nov21

Rotten pears and tomatoes

Posted on by
Rotten pears and tomatoes

Good morning.

I am skipping church.

But not because I am in labor, or any stage of early labor.  Just because I don’t feel well at all.  I feel like one of those rotten pears at the grocery store that got buried under the perfectly ripe ones.

I want a pear now.  A ripe one.

I had this epic moment at 4:30 this morning: I feel like I need to share.  I was laying there, asleep, and for some reason I suddenly felt like I was going to lose whatever I had eaten for dinner the night before. (What WAS that, anyway?)  So, half asleep, I shot straight up, launched myself out of bed and somehow missed crashing into and destroying the Pack ‘n Play, and ran to the bathroom.

And once I was in the bathroom, I realized I felt completely fine.  There was no reason for that whole lunging from the bed thing I had just done.  Must have been in my dream?

In any case, I haven’t moved that fast in about…ten months.  I kind of wish it had been caught on tape so I could relive it.

So far this morning, I have eaten some breakfast, threw lunch in the Crock-Pot, and sat on the couch.  Today’s agenda is going to be basically take my sweet time cleaning the house (so it’ll probably take about 5 hours instead of the usual 3 1/2 hours…lame) and maybe put up a few Christmas decorations.

Maybe if the child senses Christmas decorations, it’ll inspire her to want to come out into the oxygen.

I’m not getting my hopes up.

Also, Henry needs a bath.  It has been at least three weeks (he usually gets bathed once a week) and he smells not unlike the rotten tomato I discovered behind the vegetable drawer in the refrigerator of our first apartment.  Thing had been in there so long and was so rotten that it completely disintegrated when I touched it….and oozed its rancid guts all over the bottom of the fridge.

It was one of the grossest moments of my life.

Jan3

Last Year’s Christmas Present Makes A Whole Lot More Sense Now

Posted on by
Last Year’s Christmas Present Makes A Whole Lot More Sense Now

Last year for Christmas, the Grandparents Laird gave us all clock radios with ceiling projection.  They had recently discovered the wonders of not having to turn over to look at the clock to discover what time it was in the middle of the night, and wanted to share the love with all of their grandchildren.

We were quite pleased with our gift and immediately put batteries in it and read the directions.

“Huh, this is weird,” Joey said.  ”The time only projects on the ceiling if you press the snooze button, but if I press the snooze button, the face of the clock lights up shows the time anyway.  And if I’m looking at it to press the snooze button, I don’t need to look at the ceiling also.”

“Yeah that is weird,” I said.

So we keep ours in the bathroom.  It tells the temperature on it and I’ve learned that if the bathroom gets over 71 degrees then my hair won’t cooperate, no matter how hard I try.

Turns out that the other siblings had the same question about the clock and its ceiling projection, but we all chocked it up to the fact that maybe Grandpa or Grandma preferred to look at the small red numbers on the ceiling instead of the large, glowing numerals that appeared when the snooze button was pressed.

I mean, my grandparents are pretty hip; Grandpa even has an iPhone.  Sometimes we just can’t understand their ways.

Well, fast forward 365 days to Friday afternoon.  The Grandparents Laird were visiting us for a few days as they do every year at this time.  They’re on their way through to Arizona with their RV, and we’re on the way.  Actually, I’m not sure if we’re really on the way, or if they just turn the map upside down and pretend we’re on the way.  In any case, they stop by and see us annually.  It’s great.

Joey and Gramps were at NorthPark doing who knows what (and I can’t believe Joey got Gramps into a mall at all) when Gramps asked Joey about how we were liking the clock.

“Well,” Joey said, “I’m not really sure if ours is set up right, because it will only project on the ceiling if you press the snooze button.  And I’m already looking at it by this point so I don’t need to see it on the ceiling.”

“No way,” Grandpa said, “It should always project on the ceiling.”

“Well, ours doesn’t.”

Grandpa paused.  ”Do you realize what this means?” He asked.

“Uh, no,” Joey said.

“This means I KNOW SOMETHING THAT YOU DON’T!”  I can only imagine that the planets must have stopped rotating on their axes as Grandpa came to this realization.  I think he’s been shooting for this since Joey married into the family, but that is unconfirmed.

“I’ll set it up for you as soon as we get back to your house,” Grandpa replied.  (And I wasn’t there, but I’d be willing to be my entire 1999-2008 State Quarters collection that he was pretty smug when he said it.)

Well, they got back to our apartment and Gramps went into the bathroom to fix the clock; he emerged several moments later hollering, “THIS THING WON’T PROJECT ON THE CEILING!  I don’t think it’s the same model we have!”

This immediately sparked a debate between the Grandparents, because Grandma seemed to recall that the clock they gave us plugged in.

“No, the clock doesn’t plug in,” Joey said.  ”It only runs on batteries.”

“And…does the time not project on the ceiling?”  Grandpa asked.

“That man at Radio Shack TOLD me it was the same clock we had,” Grandma huffed.

“The time must not always project because it’s not plugged in,” Grandpa mused.  Then, “If the time doesn’t project on the ceiling, you all must have thought we were really weird to give you these time-projection clocks if they didn’t even project.”

Joey and I looked at each other, then we nodded sheepishly.  ”But we like it in the bathroom,” I said quickly.  ”It’s very handy.”

“But it’s not doing what it was supposed to do!  We got it so it would always project on the ceiling for you!”  Grandma was really upset at that Radio Shack man.  I would not want to be him, no siree.  Not at all.

“So…” Grandpa asked, “Did all you kids discuss this amongst yourselves since it wouldn’t project on the ceiling?”

“Well, sort of,” I said.  ”We did all think it was kind of weird that it only did the ceiling thing if you pushed the button.  BUT IT IS STILL USEFUL AND VERY HANDY,” I emphasized.  I learned from my Mom to always, always, always be thankful for a gift, even if it doesn’t project the time on the ceiling as advertised.

After about ten minutes, the fervor surrounding the clock and its lack of ceiling projection died down.  But today? Just ten minutes ago?  The thing started beeping for absolutely no reason and it reminded me that I should let you all know that now I understand my Christmas gift from last year a whole lot better.

Radio Shack dude sold the wrong model to my Grandma, that’s what.

Dec7

Several Things

Posted on by
Several Things
  1. I swear our Christmas tree is crooked.  Joey swears it’s not.  (One of these days I’ll take pictures of it and prove it to all of you that the thing really is crooked.)  I keep saying Dad will have to help fix it when he comes, and Joey says no way is Dad going to help fix it, because he prefers have me all riled up about it being crooked.  I think that’s mean
  2. Tomorrow is our embryo transfer day.  That is a weird, mind-bending concept.  But more on that later, I’m sure all of you are getting SICK TO DEATH of reading about me being all OH MY GOSH IVF IS SO CAH-RAY-ZY!  (I know getting sick of writing about it; I need new material.)
  3. I ate a grapefruit for dinner because that is what my hormones told me would be acceptable.  I often wonder where they get the hormones in the medicine I’m taking.  Are they from cows?  Because that would be awesome and just fine with me.
  4. Joey lost his cell phone somewhere in the house.  I’m supposed to be helping him look for it but I keep getting too tired, so I take breaks to read or lay on the floor or, in this instance, post something on the interwebs.  Hi.
  5. We built a really nice fire and then tried to put it out to go somewhere, but then I got too tired so we decided not to go anywhere after all.  Then Joey had to rebuild the fire.  I think this annoyed him.
  6. Joey just walked past me, laughed and said, “You’re blogging about trying to find my phone”.  He knows me well.
Nov27

Doin’ Shots: Day ?? (or, The One Where Joey Sprays The Ceiling With My Medicine On Accident)

Posted on by
Doin’ Shots: Day ?? (or, The One Where Joey Sprays The Ceiling With My Medicine On Accident)

Most people go shopping on Black Friday.  We go to the doctor, get scanned, and do shots.  Oh, and set up our Christmas tree.

I absolutely forget how many days into the shots we are.  At this point, my stomach is a combination of bruised, itching and burning so what’s one more shot?  Bring it on, Dr. Babyplease. WE CAN TAKE IT.

We had a scan this morning to see how the maybe-babies were progressing.  A very nice nurse with a Russian accent, who reminded us a lot of Marya from Hogan’s Heroes, performed the scan painlessly.  I told her she was awesome and painless and, Internet, you should have seen the look on her face.  She said to me, very seriously, in her cute Russian accent, “I haff beeen doing thees for twelf years.  I do NOT hoort peeeeple.”

I told her she wouldn’t have to ruin her record on me, then, because I couldn’t feel a thing.  Not like the last time where I almost screamed.

Then the nurse cracked a smile and said, “Welll, I do not hoort peeeeeple unless they are makingk me mad.”  Then she winked at me.

The moment she left the room Joey and I began whispering Marya quotes to each other.  ”HOOOOOGAN DAAAHLINK!”  And the entire way home we talked to each other in Russian accents.  Pretty much the best doctor’s appointment ever.

OH WAIT.  Except that Dr. Babyplease caught us outside and told us to go home and mix up a dose of Menopur (yep, you read us right: we are mixing drugs in this house now, in addition to shooting them up) and then add an injection of Ganirelix.  Two more shots every day, only these two new ones will be in the morning.

I successfully gave myself a Follistim shot, but I wasn’t about to trust myself with mixing the Menopur powder with the saline and filling the syringe, so I told Joey he’s on shot duty from here on out.  He very seriously laid everything out on the bathroom counter and closed the toilet lid so he could lay the directions there for easy reading.  (We don’t have a lot of counter space, so we make do with what we have.)

A few minutes later, he had drawn up a syringe and was flicking it to disperse the air bubbles.  He was so serious that I started giggling.  Then he pointed the needle at me and told me to swab off because here it came.

This one hurt, so the most logical thing to do was to scream bloody murder.  Joey looked at me with eyes full of terror because he was only half way through the shot.  ”I’m almost done!” He squeaked.

Unfortunately the next shot, Ganirelix, was actually the problem shot.

I tried to read the instructions because I thought I’d give it to myself, but they freaked me out and confused me, so I handed it off to Joey.  They did the same to him, so after he read them two or three times, he gave up and called my doctor.  It was taking forever for them to call back, so he went in the bathroom to try to figure it out again.

This was proving to be complicated still, so Joey gave up and started calling all the medical professionals he could think of since our doctor hadn’t called back yet.  First he called his mom, but couldn’t get ahold of her.  Then he called Deanine, and she happened to be available.  Joey read her the directions and somehow she translated them and instructed him in the way he should shoot me.

I was sitting on the couch attaching hooks to ornaments when I heard him say to Deanine, “Um…what would happen if I pushed the plunger thing in instead of pulling it out, and sprayed medicine all over the ceiling and stuff? … Yeah, it went everywhere … OK, I’ll go get another one.”

This really piqued my curiosity, but no way was I going to go in the bathroom to see what he meant by “medicine all over the ceiling and stuff” because if I went in there, he might stick me with a needle.

Shortly he got off the phone with Deanine, and a few minutes later, Joey told me to stop putting the hooks on our new ornaments and get in the bathroom, because it was TIME.

Miraculously, once we got the whole how to inject it thing down, I was pleased to discover that the Ganirelix didn’t hurt at all.  Not one tiny bit.

Well, not until I walked out of the bathroom and said “Oh, sweet!  That one was painless!”  That’s when it hit me.  OH THE BURN, INTERNET.

It still hurts.  They both still hurt.

Conveniently, we probably had one more dose of Ganirelix than we needed, so it doesn’t look like we’ll have to re-order any more.  This is good news, because it’s not generic and we’d have to throw down a $25 copay for one box of a yicky shot.  So…way to screw up, Joey.  We don’t have to buy extra, and we get a good laugh out of knowing there is fertility medicine on the ceiling in our bathroom.  Not too many people get to have THAT awesome decoration…

Our next doctor’s appointment is Monday; Dr. Babyplease told us we could go on Sunday or Monday, and we picked Monday.  They’ll probably retrieve the maybe-babies on Wednesday or Thursday.  I can’t believe we’re getting so close.  This entire process becomes such a blur!

I’m so glad I have Nurse Joey, though.  Because I could never do all these shots by myself.  He is my rockstar.

Nov26

Thankful

Posted on by
Thankful

Wanna know something weird?  Our annoying neighbors, the ones with the feral dog that bit Joey once, seem to be having a Thanksgiving shindig at their house and they left all their windows open.  As we walked past just now, we heard them singing.  Now, I come from a musical family and I have nothing against large groups of people getting together and singing just for the heck of it but…but our neighbors and their friends can’t sing.

Also, they weren’t even singing any type Thanksgiving song.  They were singing, all of them, the tag to some Top 40 song from last year.  I can’t remember the name of it, unfortunately.  And this was not just a freak thing, they are all STILL singing in there.  They’re singing so loud that if I stand next to my windows that are close to their apartment, I CAN HEAR THEM.

They haven’t improved any, either.  They still stink.

All this to say – Happy Thanksgiving, Internet!  I hope y’all had a good day.  I did.  We went to Ft. Worth and hung out with like 4,000 of Joey’s relatives.  I dozed during the Cowboys game and we all ate lots of food and did lots of talking.  On the way back to Dallas, Pops called from Laird Central and we participated via phone in the traditional Laird Thanksgiving Circle.  You know, the one where everyone goes around and says what they are thankful for from the past year.  It always takes a really long time, 45 minutes minimum.  (And usually we burst into song directly following.  I am not joking, just ask Joey.)

What am I thankful for this year?  Honestly, it was hard to come up with something at first.  Doesn’t that seem ridiculous?  We have all these blessings, all these wonderful opportunities, so many wonderful and supportive people…and all we get hung up on is HOW MUCH THIS SUCKS and WHY DID GOD PICK US ANYWAYS?!!

It took a concerted effort for Joey and I to come up with something that we were thankful for this year.  We had to step back and look at our lives almost as if we weren’t in them.  And, once we did that, we caught a glimmer of the blessings.

Sometimes, when you’re still so enmeshed in your struggle, it’s impossible to figure out what you’re learning.  We’ll catch ourselves thinking, “Gosh, are we even learning anything from this?” and I think the answer is YES.  We are learning.  But what we’re learning we won’t get to see for awhile, not until things aren’t so fresh and we don’t feel like we’re getting salt sprinkled in our wounds daily.

But we’re getting there.

Just this week I told Joey that I felt the rawness of grief of our miscarriage was starting to subside.  Of course, if I think about it for even a few minutes together you’ll find me in a mass of tissues, but I don’t feel like I’m carrying it around on my back anymore.

We’re getting there.

We realize that in the center of the hurricane that it’s easy to get self-centered.  Self-absorbed.  FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!!  All that garbage.  That doesn’t do anyone any good, not to mention it’s ugly.

So when I step back and take a look at my blessings, how am I thankful this year?  Hmm.

  • I’m thankful for Joey.  He’s brave, he’s strong, he’s supportive.  He loves me enough that he gave me my shot in the Walmart parking lot in Arlington tonight.  Joey fills in my gaps, holds my hand, and I can’t imagine doing this without him.  This year has taken our marriage to a completely different level of closeness, and I am starting to see it and be thankful.
  • I am thankful for those of you who pray for us.  So many days when I feel overwhelmed, I can’t figure out how to pray.  I am thankful for you who lift us up when we have no words and don’t even know where to start.  You bless us.
  • I am thankful for being able to try IVF.  Even when it stinks and I wonder if it’s worth it, I’m still thankful.  Every shot is a blessing.  I’m also thankful for our ten little follicles, our maybe-babies, which we will go see again tomorrow morning.

This year I feel like all we’re capable of being thankful for is basic stuff.  We’re thankful for each other, for your support, for your prayers, for the friends that we have.  It’s so basic that it almost seems trite.  But, I’m learning, when things are so hard you can’t see past tomorrow, that’s when we simplify.  That’s when we get back what is basic, what is absolutely necessary.  When we simplify.

This year for Thanksgiving, we’re are beginning to see how we are simply thankful.

Nov26

Random Stuffs

Posted on by
Random Stuffs

Ohai Interwebz.  Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.

First and foremost, I accidentally gave myself a shot last night.  I KNOW!  SO COOL, right?!

Here’s how it went down.  I got my Follistim Pen all loaded up, sanitized, needle loaded up and alcohol-swabbed the spot I had selected.  I have this pretty major problem of forgetting which side I shot up the day before, but Joey is always on top of things.  He came skidding into the bathroom just as I swabbed off my right side and stopped me.  ”You did that one yesterday,” he said.  ”Other side.”

“Serious?” I asked.

“Serious.”

“Can’t I just do this side anyways since it’s already clean?”

“No.  Other side.”  Don’t mess with  Joey, Internet.  Don’t do it.

So I sighed and cleaned off a spot just to the left and a little below my poor bellybutton and held the Follistim pen at the 45 degree angle that we discovered is much less painful.

“Are you doing it yourself?” Joey asked me.

“No,” I said.  ”I’m just seeing how it would look if I were going to try it.” But as I said this, I accidentally jostled my right arm and felt a tiny twinge.

“Well…you just did,” Joey said.

“OH MY GOSH!” I squeaked.  The arm twitch had caused me to accidentally shoot myself, and I was somehow past the painful part of the process.

WEIRD.

I stared down at my hand and realized the way I was holding the pen made it next to impossible to actually depress the thingy that shoots the medicine into my person.  I tried to adjust my grip on the pen, but it was really awkward.  I pushed it in the rest of the way, and it didn’t hurt at all!, and awkwardly pushed the “button” (I don’t have a clue what that thing is called, I am such a bad druggie).  I was careful to leave it in for the prescribed 5 seconds and then, out it came.

“Victory!  I DID IT!!” I yelled, throwing my arms into the air, one of which was still holding the exposed-needled Follistim pen. Fortunately I didn’t nick Joey with it; can you even imagine what would happen to him?  He doesn’t even have ovaries.

“Nice job,” Joey congratulated me as I twisted apart the needle from the pen and disposed of it in my sharps container.  ”But this is terrible, now I don’t get to be part of the process anymore!”

“Well, you can still give me some shots,” I assured him.  ”Don’t worry.”

Joey suddenly laughed and said, “You know, if I’m the one giving you the shots, it’s like I’m more involved in the process than I would be the, um, Other Way.”  I laughed too.

The state of marriage during infertility treatments: spouses fighting over who gets to give the injections.  What is this world coming to?

Following my victorious shot-giving session, we stayed up an hour past our bedtime and web-cammed with my family as we did a really, really early version of Christmas/Birthday.  Sister and Pops have birthdays that each wind up on Thanksgiving day every few years.  Sister’s was Monday and Pops’ is TODAY (Happy birthday to Pops!), so they shared a birthday dinner last night.  We didn’t start presents until 10:00 because The Kid was taking for-ever to get to Iowa from Ohio, where he goes to college.

After all the presents were opened and the table was so covered in wrapping paper it was starting to block the webcam, we finally got to bed at midnight.

MIDNIGHT.

And this morning when Joey and I woke up, we realized I had used all the eggs in the house yesterday (6 to be exact) to make the pecan pie last night, so our plans for a brunch were kind of squelched.  That is, until we decided to go get some eggs.  But we were not self-starters at all this morning, not at ALL, and we sat on the floor playing with Henry and drinking our Ghirardelli Chocolate Peppermint coffee (and none of you will report me to Dr. Babyplease or you’re fired from reading this blog; yes, I have that power.)

We were also listening to the new John Mayer album, which totally rocks me.  So there we were, staring blankly off into space with really messy hair, lounge pants, coffee mugs and sitting on the floor.  The absolute picture of marital bliss.  Then Friends, Lovers or Nothin’ came on;  it has that sweet power chord piano line and fancy guitar business, so Joey and I spontaneously began playing air guitar (Joey) and air piano (me).  We were serious about it, too, with emotive head-banging and everything.

I am a way better air piano player than Joey is at air guitar, but 12 years of real piano lessons will give that added benefit. Then we realized how ridiculous we were and we laughed until my Follistimulated ovaries hurt and I had to cry “Uncle!”

It’s going to be a good day, Internet.

I’ve got Joey and my air piano skillz.

Nov25

Doin’ Shots: Day 5

Posted on by
Doin’ Shots: Day 5

I feel only slightly better knowing that fatigue is a side effect of Follistim. I guess it’s really hard to crank out extra egg follicles or something, because I’m absolutely bushed. I could fall asleep typing thiszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Anyway, the shot is going much better. Joey’s a pro. That’s the good news.

This morning we had another doctor’s appointment, this time with ultrasound and bloodwork. I got to see another doc in the practice because they were slammed today and were trying to squeeze in over 50 ultrasounds. This other doc was quite nice, and I liked her.

As near as I can tell, there are quite a few follicles on my right side, but lefty isn’t looking so good. He isn’t feeling so good, either. The doctor went to check that side, and I gasped and almost shot off the table it hurt so bad. Turns out there is a bunch of endometriosis and cysts over there (YAY!) and no follicles.

“Hmm, what’s going on with your left side,” were the words that came out of my doctor’s mouth.

I wanted to beat my head on the exam table. I am so tired of hearing that phrase when it comes to my insides.

She cut the left side exam mercifully short because every time she went over there to look, I gasped or tensed or winced. I guess she figured it wasn’t worth it this early in the game, but OH GOODY won’t Friday’s exam be fun? She also mentioned that it’s so strange that people like me who have such bad endometriosis (which she referred to as a “disease” and freaked me out) don’t usually seem to be in as much pain as the lucky ladies who don’t have it very bad. She also said that Endo patients tend to do pretty well with IVF. She also said that Endo can choke out your ovaries and cause them to not produce any eggs. Oh lovely…

She also assured me that the uncomfortable pressure I feel around my midsection will get worse, probably to the point where I will be wearing only sweatpants to keep pressure off my poor, overstimulated system.

Then Dr. Babyplease came in to look at the pretty pictures of my follicles and cysts. I’m not supposed to start my additional two injections tomorrow (and THAT is something to be thankful for!) but we’ll revisit after Friday’s appointment.

When we left and walked through the waiting room, there were quite a few shell-shocked looking couples sitting there. Several of them were young like we are, and I felt really sorry that they have to be in the same boat that we are. It’s really weird to be sitting in the waiting room at a fertility clinic when you’re still in your 20s. I always thought this was a problem for older ladies or something. (There was a lot I didn’t know back then, though.)

So tomorrow, for Thanksgiving, I will be thankful that I don’t have to start extra shots that day. I will be thankful that we have the chance to try IVF. I will be thankful for Joey, that he gives me shots even though he doesn’t like hurt me. I will be thankful that he is strong for me when I can’t do it anymore. I will be thankful for supportive family and friends. I will be thankful for all y’all who are praying for us.

I have lots to be thankful for, especially in the middle of all of this. Sometimes it’s hard to see the forest for the trees, but doing this right in the middle of Thanksgiving can give me a chance to step back and see what I have to be thankful for that I so often overlook.

Nov13

Alert, Alert

Posted on by
Alert, Alert

Friendlies:

Due to the massive amounts of you who have moved in the last several years, our address list is majorly out of date.  If you want a Christmas card and you’ve moved…email me your address.  (If you need my email address, comment on this post and I’ll reply via email.)  And if you don’t remember if you got one three years ago but you’re like OH MY GOSH I NEED ONE OF THEIR CHRISTMAS CARDS THIS YEAR, same drill.  Email me your address.

I have marked on my address list those of you who have moved, but I may have missed one or two.  Because, like I said, there were a lot of you.

So email me your addresses, y’all. (Michelle!)

Love,

Jenna