the (mis)adventures of jenna

a memoir in eleventy billion parts

One Thing I Know January 21, 2010

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 06:30
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Finally.  I think I know what I learned.  (At least one thing, anyway.  There had really better be more than just one thing.)

Last night, Joey and I got to talking through the past year kind of with the “what if we hadn’t” perspective.

  • If we hadn’t put in the work, we could have grown apart easily.
  • If we hadn’t been actively looking for each other’s strengths, all we would have seen is weakness.
  • If we hadn’t been careful, we could have started to blame each other for what has happened.  (And this terrifies me, because I really still do feel like it’s all my fault if I let myself.)
  • If we hadn’t gone to church when we didn’t want to, we could have quickly lost our perspective and lost our faith.
  • If we hadn’t tried to pray, we may never have started again.
  • If we hadn’t looked for things to be thankful for, we could have grown bitter.

Our list really could go on and on, and as I look at what I’ve written…it kind of looks like we’re more awesome than we really are.  Truth is, we aren’t.  But the what-ifs that come out of a really hard year are enough to scare me.  Nothing is certain, nothing is guaranteed.  We know that now more than we ever did.  Rough, awful spots can sneak up on you and hit you with all the force of an 18 wheeler going 60 miles an hour…and then what.

Here’s what I know:

I never want to be unprepared again.

I’ve learned from my last year that I am not who I need to be, that I’m not ready for another year like 2009.  I’m not ready for another year where I try and try and try to keep it together and put on a brave face and hope that this HAS to be over soon…right?

The only reason that Joey and I didn’t implode on each other this past year is because of our faith, of Who we believe in.  I definitely couldn’t see it then.

But I don’t ever want to be the same.

And now that I can at least see one thing I’ve learned, that I don’t ever want to be the same, I don’t want to settle for status quo in the way I follow Jesus, that I don’t want to settle…I can start to change.

Because I can’t handle another year without it, no matter what happens to me in 2010.

Sing to the LORD all the earth; proclaim his salvation day after day.  Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among the people – 1 Chronicles 16:23-24

 

Dear Samuel January 6, 2010

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 19:29
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I missed you on your due date.  It came and it went and nobody knew how badly I just wanted to take your one ultrasound picture and curl up with you on the bed.  I will always wonder if you had blue eyes like your daddy, or brown eyes like your mommy.  Would you have been short like me?  Or maybe you would have been born with a Rubik’s cube in your hand like your daddy?

We wanted you for so long.  You were our miracle, and I don’t understand why God gave you to us just long enough to take you away again.

I will never forget you, I remember every single time I see my scar.  At first I thought having such a big, obvious reminder would upset me every day, and sometimes it does.  But I never have to worry about losing your memory, because I carry you with me everywhere I go…in my heart and on my stomach.

We called you Samuel because we asked the Lord for you, but he asked for you back. And we still don’t know what we were supposed to learn from you, but you can bet we’ll learn it so we can always look back on what you taught us.

I love you.  We miss you.

Mommy

I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him.  So now I give him to the Lord.

For his whole life, he will be given over to the Lord.

1 Sam 1:27-28

 

The Best and Worst of 2009 December 31, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 21:51
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OH MY WORD, in just a few hours 2009 is going to be O-VER!  No New Years Resolutions for me this year, just a good, hot shower at midnight to wash every last vestige of 2009 away.

So, it’s weird; when I look back on the year I realize that yes, this is the worst year I can remember and it will probably be the worst one in a long time.  But let’s be honest, the only other rough year I can think of (during our marriage, that is) was probably the last year when we lived in Iowa and I worked with those nasty people who hated me from the moment they snitched a peek at my resume and thought “gosh, I think this one is a Christian” based upon where I went to college (and I know this because they told me). Those two made me cry on a regular basis.

But in perspective, I’ve had a pretty easy life.

So let’s flash back to 2009, month by month.  Come on, it’ll be fun.  Well, it’ll be fun until May, that is.

JANUARY

I noticed that somehow the phrase “picture of a cow’s head stuck under a fence and along comes a bull” was bringing a lot of traffic to my blog.  (I still can’t figure it out.)  So I told Brother, and he drew this picture using Microsoft Paint and that post is now the #1 most-viewed on this blog.  WEIRD.  Also, we got a new shower head.

FEBRUARY

We got new glasses and, fortunately!, Joey did not choose this pair.  I thought I finally saw an armadillo but it turned out to be a skunk. It was a major disappointment for me.

MARCH

The Kid came to visit us for Spring Break.  We had fun.  I quit watching The Office because it wasn’t funny to me anymore.  We went to Branson for a five days with my parents, and after they left Joey and I had crazy adventures. As usual.

APRIL

I flew to Chicago to visit Sister and Stephen over Easter.  Joey and I planted tomatoes and herbs on our balcony and were successful.

MAY

We tried to celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary, which fell on the same day we found our our baby was gone.  (Re-reading these posts to link them here is killing me.) Then I had crazy surgery because there were abnormalities.  Mom came to take care of me for a week, and after she left, Sister came.

JUNE

It drove me crazy to think about our baby as an “it”, so we named him Samuel. I overdid it post-surgery and had painful relapses more often than I should have because I can’t sit still.  I discovered that going to church can be difficult.

JULY

For Independence Day, we jetted home to IOWA! see some fireworks.  I remembered how to smile again.  We went to Mexico and had the absolute best vacation ever.  Being together.  And let us not forget the smacking Iguana from the Tulum ruins, which was a highlight for me of course.

AUGUST

Joey had sinus surgery and he looked fully awesome afterwards.  I had a birthday and I survived.

SEPTEMBER

We tried to go backpacking, but there was no water in any of the creek-beds so we had to turn back; we had a great time at Beavers Bend working Plan B.  Then, Joey decided he wanted to a coffee experiment, which ended with him deciding he liked coffee.

OCTOBER

My awesome friend Michelle handed down their Grind & Brew coffee maker to us, which we named Jeeves.  It’s such a handy machine that has changed our lives in so many ways.  Oh, and we decided to do IVF to treat my infertility.  Um, that was HUGE.

NOVEMBER

I started my first round of medicine for IVF and hated it.  A few days later, we received a ginormous box of IVF injections and began the shots.  Joey is awesome.

DECEMBER

We had ten healthy embryos which we transferred and then..our IVF procedure failed.  Ugh.

I realize that nobody will probably click through those links to read those old posts, but it was really cathartic for me to look back on this year and remember that, YES, there were good times.  We did enjoy parts of it.  (A few parts.)

Happy New Year, Internet!!  May it be so, so much better than 2009.

 

It’s Like A Compound Fracture December 27, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 19:39
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Joey and I were heading out this afternoon, it’s brisk and cool and a bit icy in spots down here in Texas right now (WEIRD!), and as I shoved my hands deeper in to the pockets of my down vest that I usually never wear, I said, “It feels like…it’s like a compound fracture. You know, the kind where you have, like, bone sticking out of your leg.”

He just raised his eyebrows at me like, OK…I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about but sure…compound fracture.

“No, I mean how I’m feeling right now.”  Obviously, right?

I’m trying to put words on it.  I’ve been unnaturally quiet for about the last four or five days; I just don’t want to talk about It.  I don’t want to talk about any of it.  I just want to push through the holidays, survive our baby’s due date, and get January over with.  So I turn my cell phone off and don’t reply to emails and keep to myself.

It’s working OK.

We made it through Christmas and we managed to have a mostly enjoyable day.

My former due date is looming, though.  And I feel like I could shatter at any minute, and I just have to keep it together.  I’ve cried enough over the last six months, haven’t I?  I’m so over it.

But back to the compound fracture business.  (Yes, yes, I’m circling this plane so I can land it, y’all.)

I feel sequentially broken right now; it’s gross and disgusting and deep, sticking out of my skin and disfiguring.  And the only way to get my nasty compound fracture to heal is to go through more pain to get it set.  Maybe even more intense pain, but I SURE HOPE NOT, INTERNET.  Once it’s set, eventually I’ll have to do physical therapy and whatever.  That will hurt and stretch, but it will be healing, even though it sounds awful.  And eventually, it’ll be whole again.  But never the way it was, and never without a dull ache when the barometric pressure changes, to remind me of what once was.

I’m in the morphine for pain stage right now.  Maybe in a few weeks I’ll be ready to try walking on it.  But oh….not yet.  It still hurts too much.

 

Enough December 22, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 21:05
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Enough 2009.

Enough tears.

Enough hurt.

Enough infertility.

Enough everything.

Enough, already.

Sometimes, I just feel like I’m awake every day for long enough to get cage matched by a professional wrestler.  Then I go to bed, sleep for a few hours, and wake up and do it all over again.  I’m so weary of it all.  Carrying around the weight of grief is really, really exhausting.

Joey and I were talking the other day.  We were talking about The Question that people ask us a lot; the one we really hate.

“So…rough year…what do you think God is trying to teach you?”

We never know what to say.  We don’t know the answer and we’re not sure we want to yet.  But a couple of days ago, Joey said he thought maybe he knew what it was.

God’s trying to teach us that He is enough.

UGH.  What a lesson.  I don’t want to learn that.  I don’t want Him to be enough, I want babies.

See?  I haven’t learned it yet.  That puts the fear of God in me, too, because I’m like, better hurry up and learn your lesson, Jenna, before He does something else nasty to you.

That’s called having an incorrect view of God.  I know in my head that he’s not up there being the professional wrestler in the cage match I feel like I’m losing daily, but I can’t convince my heart.  I’m not sure how you fix that, either.

Somehow, I have to learn to be satisfied with God.

He is enough.

We just got the phone call that my sister is in labor.  Every other person in my family is glittering with excitement, and Joey and I feel like we just got sucker punched.

I don’t understand why she and I had to have the same due date in the first place.  I don’t understand why we couldn’t both get to have our babies.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand.

But I don’t feel like He is enough right now.  I just don’t.

I wanted to have my baby.

 

Three Days Later December 20, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 11:37
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All I can think about lately is how my body betrayed us.  HELLO UTERUS, didn’t you get the memo you were supposed to IMPLANT the EMBRYOS because we spent LOTS OF MONEY on this?!

I look at my still-bruised and sore stomach and think what a waste of money those $1,000 shots were.  I still have an unopened box of Menopur sitting behind my dresser, complete with needles and syringes and everything.  I’m not sure what we’ll do with it.

Sometimes I just look up at the sky and think, God?  Are you up there?  It’s me, Jenna, the one you gave the gift of infertility to; remember me?  Because lately it feels like you forgot.  Anyway, remember that IVF thing we thought we were supposed to do?  THE ONE THAT COST US GOOD MONEY!?  Why, why, why did you let it fail?  What is up with that?

Joey and I have had the goal of getting out of seminary debt free.  And we were doing really, really good until about two months ago.  Granted, we don’t have to bear the full cost of IVF, but we’ll have to do at least 10%.  And they’re running tests on some of our embryos and heaven knows how much that will cost.

I hate being a monetary raincloud, but if we wanted to not get pregnant, we could have done that for free just like every other month.  I could have skipped the shots, could have skipped the ultrasounds, could have skipped the nearly daily bloodwork and the fun of having a left arm so bruised I couldn’t even fully extend it.

Julie Powell (of Julie & Julia fame) put a Paypal button on her blog for people to donate to her cooking experiment.  Maybe I should put one up to pay for our failed IVF.

Just kidding.  I’m really not trying to beg for money.

I’m just mad at my body.

I’m mad that we’ll have to spend some of our rainy-day savings to pay for something that didn’t even work.

That’s when I look back up at the clear blue sky and say, GOD!!  We’re getting ready to go into the MINISTRY FOR PETE’S SAKE!  To serve YOU!!!  And you take our savings and leave us barren yet again around Christmas and the due date of the baby we lost.  Can you cut us a break?!

Maybe you read this blog and you’re not a Christian.  Hi.  You’re totally welcome here.  See, up until about two years ago, I thought being a Christian was all nicey-nice with flowers and puppies and nativity scenes and crosses hanging behind the choir loft.  So warm and fuzzy!

But it’s not.

It has taken this emotional roller coaster to make me realize that the nativity scene and the cross represent something many Christians (and people who aren’t Christians) overlook about following Jesus: suffering.

And once I throw that word out there on the Internet I immediately feel hypocritical.  I’m not suffering in the sense that I’m hated and beaten and people are trying to crucify me, but I’m definitely hurting in my heart.  And this kind of hurt, if you’ve never felt it, is deep and intense and I’d say it’s pretty close to suffering.

So what do I do now?

Right now, I’m just a little ticked off at God.  He has hurt my feelings, and I’m OK with admitting that because it’s true.  I am not the kind of Christian who is willing to sit here and tell you that being a follower of Jesus is always my favorite thing.  Sometimes (like right now) I’m not really sure why I do it.  Except that I know it’s true.

And for those of you who aren’t Christians, I’m sure you think I’m nuts.

But the alternative of either believing in nothing, or believing only in myself (which, let’s face it, I suck), sounds more hopeless than trusting a God who has hurt my feelings deeply.

Those of you Christians who have prayed for us over the last few months, thanks.  I don’t understand why the answer was “no”, but it was and it will take us awhile to figure it out.  But I have never felt more supported by fellow Christians, and I’ve never really understood how amazing the church is until now.

And those of you who aren’t Christians and you still prayed?  Thank you; I know that was probably weird for you.  You are amazing and all I can say is that the God to whom you prayed did hear you, and he did answer…but the answer wasn’t what we all wanted.

I wish God was a genie in a bottle and I could have three wishes.

But that kind of god wouldn’t be as powerful as my God is, even though sometimes I don’t like his plan.

And that’s where I am three days later.  I’m about 3/4 angry, and 1/4 numb.  I don’t really want to talk about it, or think about it, or remember that it happened.

Maybe this is called denial.

But here I am.

For now.

 

About the Silence December 15, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 21:12
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So…maybe you noticed how there has been a major lack of postage on this blog lately.  Even though I’m doing really fun stuff with really cool people.  You want to know why?

BECAUSE I AM STRESSED, THAT’S WHY!

I tell you what, I was cool as an IVF cucumber until about Sunday morning.  Ever since then, I have been a stressball of gargantuan proportions.  I can’t think, I can’t not think, I can’t really function well at all.

We’ve had a couple of scares, and I am just about ready to explode with WELL, AM I OR AREN’T I?! tension.  The test is Thursday morning.  Thursday morning.

Everything is either beautiful or entirely destroyed on Thursday.

Do you know what that feels like, to have a day on your calendar that can make or break life as you know it?

And…and it’s so close to the date when we were supposed to be having a baby.  I can’t even breathe when I think about that.

WHY did we plan it like this?

I’m terrified either way.  I have only enough energy to push myself to function normally right now.  I can’t make small talk (quite literally; I just sit there and stare at people right now), I can’t relax, I can’t write, I can barely sing, I can’t concentrate, and I can’t even pray.

I’m afraid to tell God what I’m thinking, feeling, experiencing.

Because I don’t want him to tell me no.

Because I don’t want to be angry at him again.  Still.

Because I’m afraid of what might happen.

And that is why this blog is quiet right now.  Because I’m afraid and because I’m stressed.

That’s why I need you to be strong for me, to pray for me.  You are strong where I am so obviously weak.  You can take prayers to the Lord that I am afraid to even think about.  You have faith where I have fear.  You can see joy where I see only pain.

So, thanks.

 

Where have I been? Oh you know, just around December 1, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 18:30
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I forgot to post yesterday, and then earlier today I was going to do it and then forgot.  OOPS.

What’s new with us?  Um, well…I’ll start with this morning.  After my two shots (last two morning ones!) I opened up my present and discovered…

…Frosty the Snowman and Rudoph the Red Nose Reindeer boxing pens!

I KNOW, right?  It’s so awesome.

Joey and I had a huge boxing match with our pens, it lasted about 2 minutes and I’m pretty sure I won.  Mine’s Rudolph and, even cooler?  His nose lights up whenever you make him punch.  It’s pretty much the best thing ever.

I tried to give Joey the Frosty pen, but he was all NO!  I can’t take it!  It’s YOURS!

So I reminded him how I’m not ambidextrous and I can’t write with two pens at the same time.  After he remembered this, he agreed to accept the Frosty pen as a gesture of my goodwill.

Then we boxed each other’s faces off.

After the excitement with the pens, we bundled up (it’s cold down here, even if you people in Iowa would disagree) and carted ourselves back to Dr. Babyplease’s office.  They did the usual: bloodwork and scan.

We got the good nurse for the blood work today.  She took a look at my left arm and said, “Um, that doesn’t look too good; it’s getting really bruised.  Can I see your right arm?”

I pulled up my sleeve and got a secret chuckle when I saw the nurse’s face.  I don’t have a vein on my right arm that goes through my elbow, not that you can see anyway.  The nurse’s eyes got very wide and she twisted my arm around a little bit, then she said, “OK, then. We’re going to have to use the left arm…I’ll be gentle.”

She was gentle, but for the next four hours my arm hurt so bad I couldn’t fully extend it.  OH GOODY, because I have more bloodwork to come!

After Dr. Babyplease scanned me, she told me that I was ready to go and that I was super full of eggs.  I realize that’s disgusting, but I have somewhere around 15 and that’s about 14 more than usual and definitely feel….full.  (And achy all over, which is kind of strange.)  So the big day is going to be Thursday.

THURSDAY!

Oh my gosh.  It came so fast.

The nurse called me this afternoon and gave me some instructions.  My retrieval will be Thursday at 10:45 am.  I am to arrive at the hospital at 9:45, which should give the nurses plenty of time to try to figure out how in the world they’ll get a line on me since I will be not only dehydrated by that point, but my one easily accessible vein is nearly blown out.  I can hardly wait.

She reminded me that we are allowed to take showers that morning, but we can use no lotions, scented soaps, perfumes, after shaves, or deodorants.  Any kind of fragrance can potentially kill the little egglets, so on the way home Joey and I stopped at Tom Thumb and purchased some unscented Dove soap.  We’re not doing anything to harm our maybe-babies if we can help it!

And then: the bad news.  Since my retrieval is at 10:45 am on Thursday, I have to do my injections of Ganirelix and Ovidrel tonight at 10:45 pm.  Not earlier or later than 10:45, but 10:45 exactly.  (I’m going to be so cranky tomorrow after staying up so far past my bedtime…)  The Ovidrel will force me to ovulate, and they have to retrieve the egglets right before my body would naturally pop them off, or whatever you call it.

I still have no idea what the Ganirelix does.  Menopur either.  I decided I don’t really care since they hurt so bad.  (But I’m done with them!  For this round anyway…)

I’ll be down for the count following the retrieval what with the anesthesia and all.  And then sometime on Saturday, Sunday or Tuesday, depending on how they’re doing, they’ll transfer the viable embryos.

YIKES!  I CAN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!  YIKES!

Am I excited?  Not really.  Not yet.  I can’t go there yet.  Those of you who have lost babies know what I mean, I think.  I feel like I have to save my emotional energy, just in case.  And I’m really not sure when I will allow myself to start being excited…probably not until I see a heartbeat.

Or maybe even two little heartbeats.

 

Thankful November 26, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 21:11
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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.

 

Up November 22, 2009

Filed under: blog posts, infertility — jennawoestman @ 20:06
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Joey and I watched Up this evening.  I carried bowls of hearty beef and vegetable stew I had made this afternoon, simmering it in the oven for three hours until it was tender and flavorful and absolutely delicious, and set them on the TV trays Joey had set up near the futon.  We had canteloupe and some leftover bread with garden veggie cream cheese spread to go with it; a veritable feast.

Henry was salivating and shivering with anticipation (of who knows what) as he sat on the floor watching us eat.

Then Joey started the movie.

I have never had a movie mess up as badly as Up does.  I can barely even look at the DVD case without tearing up.  Up came out two weeks after our miscarriage, and foolishly we decided to make it my first big event post-surgery.  We had no idea what the movie was about, but it’s Woestman Tradition in our house to go to all Pixar movies on opening night.  So I drugged myself way, way up and wore my loosest pants and hunched my way into the theater.

We probably should have waited a few more weeks before seeing this one.

Within the first ten minutes of the movie, Carl and Ellie fall in love, get married, dream of having a baby, miscarry their baby (OH IT’S SO PAINFUL TO WATCH), and then grow old together, just the two of them.  Then she dies and leaves him all alone.

I have never sobbed so hard in a movie in my entire life, and I couldn’t stop for the rest of the film.  It was so annoying, my neck was getting really itchy from all the salty tears.

So tonight, Joey pushed Play on the DVD.  The theme music came on, and I almost lost it.  Then came that terrible opening montage of Carl and Ellie’s life.  The minute all the clouds turned from elephants into tiny little babies, I started crying (knew that was coming.)  And when Ellie came home from the hospital after having her miscarriage and Carl found her sitting on the front lawn, all by herself just crying, I felt like Pixar had made a movie about us.

Then Joey squeezed my hand and I realized we were both sitting on the futon crying.  We’re pals like that.  And then?  Then Henry started in — NO JOKE.  He was sitting by Joey and as he and I were wiping the salty tears out of our eyes, he started wimpering and wailing.

He wanted the beef stew on Joey’s tray.

Joey and I looked at each other, then we looked at Henry (who was still whining and crying) and we had to laugh.  What are the odds of all three of us crying at the same time?

Anyway, after that I was done watching.  I cleaned up the kitchen and worked on a project on the floor so I could be with Joey but not actually watching the movie anymore.  There are few movies I love but that break my heart, and that is one of them.  I’m not sure when I will be able to actually watch it without ruining my makeup, but I am not there yet.

Woah, and I just realized it’s 8:10.  I am overdue for a Follistim injection.  Whoops.  Sorry ovaries…