The Best Things are Said With Haiku

I peed in a cup.

Two pink lines-crying, jumping!

Holy crap, I'm knocked up!

A Fishing Song...

The Phantom of the Uterus
(Dedicated to the lovely fisherwomen of BOTB)

Heartburn, it haunted me
The nausea came
My boobies are so sore
Hormones I blame

All of these symptoms
Taunt womankind
The Phantom of the Uterus is there...
Inside your mind

My temperature today
Was very low
An implantation dip?
Or will I start my flow?
Evaporation lines
Cruelly spellbind
The Phantom of the Uterus is there...
Inside your mind

Another Inappropriate Product Review

After the less-than-delightful escapades with this product, I decided to try something different this cycle. FertileCM is a supplement that claims to increase natural fertile-quality cervical mucous. In the past few months I haven't had all that much so I decided to give it a try.

I've been taking FertileCM three times daily since it arrived early in my cycle. I'm normally skeptical of non-FDA approved supplements but the main ingredient is l-arginine, an essential amino acid. So I figured, I'm just boosting up what my body needs anyway. I'm pleased to report that this product does exactly what it claims to do, at least before ovulation. When I first started taking it I'd have random gushes of fluid, then nothing for several hours. But when I made an effort to drink more water during the day the presence of mucous became more consistent and eventually thinned it out to the appropriate texture. In fact, I've had 10 straight days of fertile-quality fluid and if I don't ovulate soon Victor and I are going to die from exhaustion.

But at least we'll die happy (wink wink, nudge nudge).

FertileCM worked well enough that I didn't need any additional "help" getting geared up for the blessed events, which is always a plus. Obviously the ultimate in positive feedback would be me getting pregnant, but for now I'll give this product an 'A'.

So to the company that makes it, you can send my endorsement checks to...

Just kidding.

How to Woo Your Wife: Baby-Making Edition

Me: :pouting:
Victor: What's wrong? I'm going to sleep.
Me: We talked about this already...it's Wednesday.
Victor: Wednesday?? Oh, is this about those strips of paper in the bathroom?
(he was referring to ovulation prediction tests)
Me: :sigh: Yes.
Victor: Oh. Sorry, I forgot.
Me: Harumph.
Victor: Well...do you want to do it?
Me: No.

Product Review, in Which I Completely Eliminate Any Semblence of Discretion

Let's discuss this product.

Pre-seed is pitched as a lubricant for couples trying to conceive. Most products are known to be hostile to sperm. As seeing a dark test line on an ovulation predictor kit isn't enough to get most women in the mood, it's good to have some help that won't defeat the purpose of the rendez-vous. Pre-seed is not and actually mimics the kind of fluid that your body should be producing naturally

This stuff comes with an applicator and instructions to fill said applicator to the 3 (unit of measurement unknown). It looked like an awful lot to me so I only used half of what was recommended. And unless thirty minutes of frantic slip-and-sliding followed by much oozing and complete exhaustion is what tickles your fancy I would not recommend even half of the prescribed dosage.

So much for our clean sheets.

Round two I only applied to the 0.5 line, one third of my original try. With this amount there was not as much slip-and-sliding or oozing, but the completion was still more labor-intensive than when performed au natural.

The final round of pre-ovulation nookie I decided to skip the applicator altogether and just use a pea-sized amount with my finger. Much better, both Victor and I agreed. (wink wink).

My final decision on product endorsement will come in approximately 9 days. At which point I'll either pack our wine stock away or break into it and drink away my cramps.

Things I Learned this Weekend

1). Do not get in line at the grocery behind a couple wearing matching "Proud Daschound Owner" t-shirts. Unless of course, you like standing in line.

2). Fan dancing = wearing lingerie and making eyes at random men.
Our local lindy hop group hosted a weekend with some very talented instructors. The woman demonstrated a fan dance during one of the band breaks at the evening dance. After she was finished the following conversation took place.
Kara: Jason, you have some drool on your chin.
Jason: oh, that must be...because I was cheering so much.
Uh-huh.

3). After a month without lindy hop, a weekend of doing it exclusively leads to serious pain.

4). I am not pregnant. Thankfully mercy was bestowed upon me and my cramps and nausea were fairly mild. On to month two.

And lead me not into temptation...

...but deliver me from pee sticks.

Today is nine days past ovulation and even though I know there is a minuscule chance of a pregnancy being detected by now, I still tested and proceeded to squint at the test for ten minutes until the evaporation line appeared. I woke up this morning determined not to test but somewhere between my bed and the toilet my resolve disappeared. I guess that's why I buy cheap tests.

Despite the fact that it's so early, I feel very pessimistic about this cycle. There's something in me that wonders, "how could I ever get pregnant?" Part of it is due to some doctors from my past who diagnosed me with some things that meant I would never hit puberty, let alone be a mom. They said I'd be under five feet, flat-chested, and a little dumb. At the time they made this diagnosis I was a straight-A student, but that didn't faze them. They told my mom, in front of me, that when I got a little older my intellectual limitations would manifest themselves.

Obviously they were wrong. I hit puberty, grew over five feet, acquired boobs, and continued making sweet grades. I've got tampons, normal-sized clothing, bras, and some impressive diplomas to prove it. But their statements to me have made a big impact on how I view myself as a woman. While all of the above things partially helped relieve me from their diagnosis, I think bearing a child will be my final vindication.

It Starts

Throughout this first real two week wait I've been trying to decide what kind of things in my life I will change when I am pregnant. Of course I'll stay away from the obvious things: alcohol, cat litter (I consider this a major SCORE), raw fish, cocaine...

(Just kidding)

(Not kidding that I'll stay away from cocaine, kidding that I'd do it at all)

Anyway. There are other things in pregnancy where the jury is still out: they may be bad, they may only be bad in excess, or they could be just fine. Take caffeine. While I don't usually drink a ton of caffeine, I'm addicted to what I do drink. Victor weaned us both down to drinking half-caf in the morning and then I have some chai tea in the afternoon. Most of the literature says that it's okay to have less than 200-300 mg each day, so reasonably I know I should be fine.

But...

What if something did happen? If something happened to my baby and I had done anything at all that could be considered somewhat risky I know I would blame myself. And I'm not sure I can handle that kind of guilt.

Obviously every day will be a risk. Driving with a seat belt, breathing in inescapable fumes, for me even walking down the stairs could present a risk. I can't avoid those things.

I'm beginning to think that pregnancy will only be the start of the worry. SIDS, choking, falling, contagious diseases, car crashes... I can just imagine how these things will make me crazy when I have a real live kid.

Loretta, meet motherhood. Oh dear.

The First Two Week Wait

So here we go friends. Settle in for two weeks (okay face it, I'm going to test at 10 days past ovulation) of being hyper aware of everything in my body. Even though Fertility Friend hasn't given me crosshairs yet, I'm fairly certain that I ovulated on Sunday. So I should know for sure if this cycle was successful by Father's Day weekend and I can't think of any better way to celebrate than to shove a urine-soaked pee stick in Victor's face.

Of course, if I'm not pregnant I'll celebrate by having debilitating cramps and then drinking heavily.

Sounds fun, no?

Victor is leaving for a work trip to Italy today, so I'll be a single gal until Sunday. I hate when we leaves, but I try to make the best of it by indulging in my single gal behaviors like eating mushrooms, dancing to loud Madonna music, and busting out the old guitar and singing.

I suck at the guitar. SUCK.

In other news, my prospects for being a sane older woman are looking dim. At the beach I played (and kicked ass at) Upwords with my parents one night. While my mama was thinking of her next play she says "that's okay honey". Huh? I asked who she meant. "Oh, I was just talking to myself."

My mama calls herself honey, Internet.

She verified it as my dad shook his head grimly.

Here's hoping I inherited my mental health from my dad.

Maybe I Did Marry a Woman?

On Sunday Victor suggested we go for a walk on the beach. He's ready.

We decided to ease into the "trying" process. I've heard plenty of stories of guys feeling the pressure when it comes to trying to conceive and it affecting their...

Well, you know.

I can see it now.

Victor comes home from work. I'm naked from the waist down. "Oh hubby," I call in a frantic voice. "My cervix is super-high and the stuff in there is really stretchy! Wanna see?!"

"Errr...no?" Victor offers.

"Oh, come on, don't you want to see what your boys will be swimming in soon?"

(Victor runs out the door. I chase him screaming "but I need your SPERM NOOOOWWWW!!")

Ahem.

So for now I'm just going to make sure the baby dancing (a phrase I will never use again because it is stupid) occurs at the right time. If we don't see the correct amount of pink lines in a few months we'll think about changing some things to increase our odds.

Like Victor's underwear.

Not that he doesn't change his underwear, I just mean the style.

Wow, I just told the Internet that my husband wears tighty whities. I'm sure he'll be in the mood now.

Let the insanity begin. And pass the pineapple.

I wasn't aware that was a medical condition

I went to the radiology office today to get an ultrasound of my thyroid. I've always had borderline low thyroid function and my old doctor in R-ville gave me good medicine that helped me stay awake for more than 12 hours at time. When I moved to my current location for graduate school the university health docs weren't so useful and now I'm trying to get back on medicine as part of the LORETTA PREPARES TO CONCEIVE project. More on that later... My new doctor here is a very thorough diagnostician and ordered a bazillion tests to figure out exactly how to treat me.

The ultrasound technician asked me why I was getting the test and whether thyroid disease ran in my family. I told her yes, it came from my mom's side. Her: "oh, I know how that is. I inherited fat thighs from my mom."