Must. Post. Something.

Because of NaBloPoMo, this blog has become my ugly step child. This is sad because here I can be my usual crass-ass self and not worry about my mother reading.  I guess I am just so busy that I have less time for crass-assness.  Ah, that is definitely not true, I am just suppressing it.

I need to start letting it out in little bursts.  Like this….

I love beets.  But someone really should have told me that they make you pee red.  I knew about the poo discoloration, but not about the pee.

I ate beets like crazy last week and then Friday night as I was preparing for the pregnancy ambush that only kinda happened I saw red.  I have gotten over seeing red that should not be present in THAT area, but this was due north a tad and I had the swirling rose colored evidence to prove it.  Friends were over at our house at the time and even though we know them very well I could not call them in to verify.  Instead I suppressed my fear and sat in the car silently on the way to the restaurant.  Obviously abnormal behavior for me because they all kept asking what was wrong and I finally blew that I needed to go to the hospital because I was bleeding.  Bleeding in my pee.

Mr. Jitter’s eyes grew huge, our male friend stared at the dashboard & our female friend shouted. ” you have been eating the CSA beets, haven’t you?”

Unfortunately for me, a beet terrine was the featured appetizer that evening. I chose the cauliflower puree and justified my choice to the server who had been filled in about my quandary that I needed it, ” to balance out the color a bit….”

Since I have stepped way over the line, I will add that the following foods cause odors or discoloration in that area  – please let me know if I am missing anything so I can prevent being surprised again.

1. asparagus.  Even the writers for Austin Power’s know about this
2. coffee.  Stinky coffee pee
3. onions. Mostly pee, but after french onion soup both output valves are affected
4. captain crunch.  I think it is the food coloring, according to a site I luckily found explaining green poo.

There are some things my mother really failed to tell me.  Add this to the list with never sit on the seat in a public toilet, drinking a jar of pickle juice is not a good way to make an impression on a first date, and it is not optional for cars to have their oil changed.

 

Happy Hallow-weird.

Since I have signed up for NaBloPoMo for my other site (the Ethiopian Adoption site), I am avoiding all things cerebral today. On that note, anyone want to give me a primer on how that works?? Do I have to post on Ning or can I do it on my site? Anyway to register more than one blog with the same account? I am useless, help! I need to motivated to actually get my posting going on that site.

Happy Halloween, from my dejected poodle. He is not too fond be being Princess Leia, not because of the gender confusion we are placing on him, but he hates those faux arms and the headpiece.

Those eyes are plotting against me.

 

The return of superstition

I frequently get e-mails like the one below, but I rarely respond.  I hardly see myself as a superstitious person, although I feel the need to reassure myself when a black cat does run across the road in front of my car.  Perhaps I am just denying my tendencies, who knows.  Someday I will post my about internal fate debate and you will see that I rationally deny these possibilities in thought, yet I humor them in behavior.  I am not certain why, but I guess in my case I am so sick of the negative that I want to foster the positive.  If avoiding black cats allows me to think evil will avoid me, I will enjoy that belief for what it is worth.

Since our adoption home study was just approved and this e-mail was awaiting me in my e-mail account from someone I have not heard from in years, I am taking it as a must to forward it in my own personal way through posting.   Read on in curiosity or disgust, but please enlighten me with your handling of such e-mails/forwards or superstitious behavior in general. I am not looking for advice, but information.  Perhaps through that information I will see that I am not really as crazy as I think because just now I have a good feeling about “things” after I just sneezed three times in a row.

Read Alone….. Especially the Poem
> I believe whatever is in store for us will be for
> us.
>
> The poem is very true, unfortunately.
>
> Make sure you read the poem!
>
> CASE 1: Kelly Sedey had one wish, for her boyfriend
> of three years, David Marsden , to propose to her.
> Then one day when she was out
>
> to lunch David proposed! She accepted, but then had
> to leave because she had a meeting in 20 min. When
> she got to her office, ! ! she noticed on her
> computer she had some e-mail’s. She checked it, the
> usual stuff
>
> from her friends, but then she saw one that she had
> never gotten before.
>
> It was this poem. She simply deleted it without even
> reading all of it.
>
> BIG MISTAKE! Later that evening, she received a
> phone call from the
>
> police It was about DAVID ! He had been in an
> accident
>
> with an 18 wheeler. He didn’t survive!
>
> CASE 2: Take Katie Robinson She received this poem
> and being the believer that she was she sent it to a
> few of her friends but
>
> didn’t have enough e-mail addresses to send out the
> full 5 that you must. Three days later, Katie went
> to a masquerade ball.
>
> Later that night when she left to get to her car,
> she was killed in that spot by a
>
> hit-and-run drunk driver.
>
> CASE 3: Richard S. Willis sent this poem out within
> 45 minutes of reading it. Not even 4 hours later
> walking along the street to his new job interview
> with a really big company, ! when he ran into
> Cynthia Bell , his secret love for 5 years. Cynthia
> came up to him
>
> and told him of her passionate crush on him that she
> had had for 2 years. Three days later, he proposed
> to her and they got married. Cynthia and Richard are
> still married with three children, happy as ever!
>
> This is the poem:
>
> Around the corner I have a friend,
>
> In this great city that has no end,
>
> Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
>
> And before I know it, a year is gone.
>
> And I never see my old friends face,
>
> For life is a swift and terrible race,
>
> He knows I like him just as well,
>
> As in the days when I rang his bell.
>
> And he rang mine but we were younger then,
>
> And now we are busy, tired men.
>
> Tired of playing a foolish game,
>
> Tired of trying to make a name.
>
> “Tomorrow” I say! “I will call on Jim
>
> Just to show that I’m thinking of him.”
>
> But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
>
> And distance between us grows and grows.
>
> Around the corner, yet miles away,
>
> “Here’s a telegram sir,” ” Jim died today.”
>
> And that’s what we get and deserve in the end.
>
> Around the corner, a vanished friend.
>
> Remember to always say what you mean.
>
> If you love someone, tell them.
>
> Don’t be afraid to express yourself.
>
> Reach out and tell someone what they mean to you.
>
> Because when you decide that it is the right time it
> might
>
> be too late.
>
> Seize the day. Never have regrets
>
> And most importantly, stay close to your friends and
> family, for they have helped make you the person
> that you are today.
>
> You must send this on in 3 hours after reading the
> letter to 10 other people. If you do this, you will
> receive unbelievably good luck. *NOTE* the more
> people that you send this to, the better luck you
> will have. SMILE, even through your tears!!!!!

 

1 + 1 = 3

Disclaimer: this has a point and is not just dog talk.

We are dog sitting a co-workers pug/rat terrier mix. She is a pampered little dog, but so is our Matisse. The difference is that a small papered dog moves much faster than a 75 pound pampered dog. Two seems pretty easy to handle.

Until, I got a frantic call last night from Mr. Jitter’s that our good friend is in the ER at the hospital where I work with Malaria. (She just got back from Haiti) I sat with her until she got moved up to the ICU – she is sick, really sick. I hate seeing people I care about like that. After she moved upstairs where she will reside for at least 3 days, I went to meet her husband at home who was at that time returning from his grad school exam. He didn’t know what was going on (other than that she was really sick when he left that morning) and I felt for him. Since he will now have more on his hands, I decided to take his standard poodle for a while. His was relieved and now the dogs outnumber the humans at our household.

Two was manageable, but three is a lot. Again, I ask myself, how does Sami do it? She has more dogs than I currently am caring for & she has a newborn. Yikes.

The long awaited point and drawn out connection: How do people have more children than adults or hands for that matter? I cannot handle our current dog to human ratio, so how could I ever manage children? Initially we wanted 2 children. We learned the bastard lesson of life through infertility. That lesson being that you do not have ultimate control over the things you desire to control most. That being said, we came to a conclusion that we would take the children that came our way, whether it be through adoption (yes, you can get multiples….) or some biological fluke. Mr. Jitters and I joked about how much really will change in our lives when we have achieved our numerical family member goals last night before bed as we were fighting for space on our queen mattress between two standard poodles and listening to the faint whimpers of a kenneled pug/terrier who is now sitting on my lap hindering my typing while my boy rests his head on my feet and his poodle friend is squeaking a stuffed carrot.

Don’t worry, this will not turn into a dog blog, nor a mommy blog for that matter, but I needed this experience to remind me that we are really not prepared to best parent a sibling set of different ages. I cannot explain how I came to this conclusion with a dog comparison to our social worker, or anyone for that matter, but I am relieved that Mr. Jitters and I agree that we will be at our best as parents when we can still have a little of ourselves as individuals and as a couple.

I feel a bit selfish & inadequate admitting that. Basically, I am limiting the number of children I want so I can maintain a lifestyle I enjoy. Two means no minivan, vacations are easier and more affordable, zero populations growth, one parent can attend to one child at time. Please tell me your rational for number of children desired or achieved? Has it changed with your experiences? I don’t think I will change my mind, but I am curious how others come to conclusions about similar issues.

 

How to make a grown man cry.

Today I ran my first marathon. It was one of my goals by the time I turn 30. The other two were to complete my master’s and have a baby. I tried so hard on one that I totally missed the other. Oh well, life is a crap chute and sometimes you are standing in the wrong place. I am content with 1 for 3.

I trained for a 4:15 finish. I finished in 4:45. Off by 30 minutes, but it was 82 degrees with 70 percent humidity. I am happy. I enjoyed every moment. It is truly a high. One of the best moments was about 5 miles in when I see Mr. Jitter’s standing next to a very familiar face not ever see by me without a Bowtie and a smile. Dr. Bowtie still had a smile, from ear to ear, but ditched the Bowtie for a Sunday wear t-shirt. I jokingly told him to look for me at Twin Cities at our exit appointment, knowing he lived relatively close to the marathon route. He did look for me and he made my day.

This man is amazing. As soon as I spotted him, I ran into his arms (he can now add sweat to the list of other body fluids of mine that he has handled) and yelled that I loved him. I meant it. I adore him. He could retire. He could make more money. He easily could have looked at our test results and turned us away. But, he didn’t. Not only is he an amazing and award winning fertility specialist, but he is human.

Mr. Jitters waited until the end of the race to tell me that as I ran away he wiped tears from his eyes. I know he wanted so badly to help us get pregnant and he feels our frustrated as much as us. His wife was with him and I know I told her thank you for sharing him with us all – he is amazing. I want her to know how much I do really appreciate it. He works almost 7 days a week – long hours – and he took part of his day off to support a patient in another less traditional way.

After 4 years of trying to get pregnant, I didn’t reach my goal, but I didn’t stand still either. Believe me, Dr. Bowtie will be getting an invite to our Champagne Toast when we return from Ethiopia with our baby. Not only was he part of our process, he is family now.

 

Writer’s Block.

I want to scream.  I am in the process of composing my adoption self-study and I caught a pretty bad case of writer’s block.  It is nothing you all can help with since it involves my life and I should be able to answer questions about my life, yet I am at a loss for words.  I guess I will be pulling an all nighter since Mr. Jitter’s and I made an agreement that this paperwork will be dropped off at our agency tomorrow morning.

Since I am so spent and I can hardly compose this post, I need to switch directions.

About a pressing fashion debate that is unfolding at our house……

Now that it is fall, I want to break out my jean jacket.  It is cropped and shows off my shrinking marathon training (5 days away is the big run) bottom.  I bought the acid black denim so I could wear it with many things from work to weekend.  The one thing I refuse to wear it with is denim.

Now, Mr. Jitter’s, who is usually a fashionable man in his pocket squares, layers, & event the occasional ascot, insists that I can mix the denims.

I disagree.  Strongly disagree.  Very, very strongly disagree. In fact, I have a one item per outfit denim limit.  With the exception of a denim jacket, the denim item must be on my lower quadrant.  In other words, no denim button up shirts, no denim vests, and absolutely no denim scrunchies.

So, please, tell me, would you mix or double up on the denims???

 

Celebrate the “little” things in life.

Just got a call from Mr. Jitter’s. 

FIL had his 18 month cancer scan today and it came back clear. 

I am so happy I am shaking.

Please join me in a celebratory hoot n’ holla.

 

Adoption Blog

Since our adoption process officially starts with our 2 day PAC trainings tomorrow and Friday, I want to let you all know of my “new” adoption blog. I will still be updating this site, but I wanted to create a site that I could someday give to our child as a gift outlining our process while illustrating the desire we share to make them a member of our family. Both my husband and I will be updating this site and the topics will range from culture, process, to general thoughts about adoption.

It will be open to everyone I know and will not be linked to this site in any way. Please help me preserve that wish and prevent me from having to go PWP.

The site was named after ……. leave a note here if you want the site. Sorry, it had to go bu-bye since I have been giving the new site to friends and family who have google powers.

 

Egg-tastic.

I am board and waiting for Mr. Jitter’s to get home from teaching so we can eat dinner and make each other laugh.  So, you lucky ones get to be my outlet for pent up extrovert energy since I feel like I have been laughing all day in my head at funny things and have had no one to share them with. (Other than DD who I just got off the phone with  – in my best east coast Jewish accent “love her”)

For example, I need to share the fact that I just finished making a batch of Jitter’s Famous Egg Salad for dinner (to be served on toasted Pumernickel with a side of tomato soup) and I actually felt sorry for the chicken whose egg I was shelling.  Now, I a non-ashamed carnivore, often feel sorry for animals our society consumes but instead of choosing to not eat them I buy ones that were supposedly treated well before we mercilessly killed them for our capitalistic driven food market.  It is probably all a hoax, but it eases my mind as I chomp on a side of bacon.  Back to the chicken, as I was shelling the freshly boiled eggs I was making a mess of the egg.  The shells were sticking and I was destroying the eggs in the process.  As the egg fragments sat on my cutting board waiting to be chopped I noted that the poor chicken must also have “egg issues”, just like me.  Aww, the poor chicken may also be infertile.  I hope there are some little chicks she can adopt and imprint herself as mother on them.

Pathetic, huh.  Does it make more sense if I tell you that today is CD1 and I was not expecting it because I really stopped playing calendar games.   Unfortunately my lack of planning left me dealing with the crotch lava while standing at a job fair downtown all day.  I should have seen it coming when I found myself crying a few days ago as I read “How much is the puppy in the window” which I was purchasing off the discount book rack for our future child.  Or when I again cried as I drove by our striking university workers because I was just so proud of them standing up for what they believe in, even though I know the group is mostly composed of graduate students eager to jump on the bandwagon of any social justice cause.  How about that jar of frosting I spooned into my mouth and directly to my thighs last night after I polished off the caramel candy corn.

To add more excitement to my evening,  my house seems to be a place where all lost dogs come. I was just interrupted by my dear std. poodle barking in a way he only does when another dog is lurking outside our front porch. I swear, he invites them over because they always come to my house.  I got to play doggie rescue lady and call the owner who just came to pick her up wayward chocolate lab. Come on people get a fence or leash your dog.  Now the beatch side of me is coming out.

Go period – it’s your start day- go period – get it on.

Who knew CD1 could be such a riot.  Perhaps next month I will take my period shopping or to dinner and a movie. It may not work well for her to get a pedicure, huh?  She is going to be around for the rest of my middle life so I better buy that Cost-co sized box of tampons and force a friendship.

Raise your glasses (please no tomato juice) to my new monthly BFF.

 

Blogging vs. Forums

We have our first adoption meetings on Thursday & Friday of this week. The meetings are mandatory for all adoptive parents and the topics range from dealing with infertility ( grrrr…) to country specific adoption information. It is a full 16 hours and while I am looking forward to it, I am dreading it at the same time.

The agenda came in the mail and the first time slot on the very first day is devoted to small group discussion of infertility and pregnancy loss in relation to adoption. OK, let me get this straight, you want me to meet people for the very first time and then tell them my deepest emotions and feelings and then shut up when I hear them say that it was not god’s will for them to have a baby so they “just” moved on to adoption? Isn’t this a very personal item for a small group discussion with complete strangers? Although I pour my life out to you on the internet, I don’t openly discuss my feelings in public. Very few friends and family members have ever seen me cry – happy or sad. I may be free flowing with the details of our infertility, but the emotions I hold close. My grief is personal. No offense to others around me, but this is how I am comfortable dealing with it.

Now I have to let complete strangers in? We will see how that goes.

In preparation for this portion of the meeting, I have been scanning the national adoption forum our agency manages. The threads are managed by country or domestic and are open to any one across the country or in the world for that matter. I have been trying to “get into this” aspect of adoption, but as with infertility I am just not a forum gal.

The forum seems to be a great place to share specific information about hair care, dossiers, referrals, and process or information related items, but the true aspects of blogging that I enjoy are not present. I appreciate bloggers for their writing and point of view that is usually (always in the blogs I read) explained in an eloquent nature with an absence of emoticons.    With blogging, I can avoid those who I usually do not agree with, or choose the read them when I can handle the emotions that their comments may stir up.  For example, if you tell me you are sprinkling me with baby dust, I am not ever returning to your site. Period. That crap does not do anything but annoy me.  I do not believe there was immaculate conception in the case of Jesus or the package of the baby dust that arrives with those internet HPTs.  Sorry for the heathen comparison, but my practical brain just cannot grasp it. It also leads me to another reason I can not read the forums.  So many of the authors have a biblical verse below their “stats”.  I am sorry, but I am not OK with GOD and I could not swallow a comment made if it was sprinkled with baby dust or holy water.  I am entirely OK with others having a belief in God, Jesus, Allah, Amum, Zeus/Hera, or who ever, but I do not and having it forced on me will not change my mind, just aggravate me.  The other complaint I have about forums, is that there seems to be the forum master poster who can either make the experience good for all or just be a playground bully and know it all.

I may end up eating my words and will probably check out the forum through this process to either work myself up or calm my nerves, but for the reasons stated above and many others, I do not think forum posting is my “thing.”  We started an adoption specific blog which will be shared with family, friends, & you (if you promise to NEVER link to this site from it) and I plan on keeping this site going in addition.

What are your thoughts?  Do you post on blogs & forums?  If so or not, what are your reasons?

———————————————————–

BTW: spell check is not working so please excuse the spelling errors on my recent posts…

 

Over & done with…

We met with Dr. Bowtie for the very last time today.  I am relieved.  I am sad.  I am grateful.

Relieved that this is over.

Sad that we did not get what we tried to.  Sad that this wonderful doctor & staff has also felt our failure.  Sad that I will never have a biological child. 

I could go on about our sadness, but I am going to focus on how grateful we are…. (what, me a normally sarcastic and harsh person has other emotions?)

When we started fertility treatments 3 years ago, I dreaded this place.  I could not imagine dealing with the emotions I assumed I would be feeling right now, at the end.  I feel that sadness and shock – it stings and it numbs at the same time, but what helps me work through it is a strong sense of “it could be worse.”  Mr. Jitter’s and I have suffered through this process.  We have had to realize things about ourselves, our relationship, and life that two 30 year olds normally do not encounter.  Or, I should clarify, two 3o year olds of an educated, upper-middle class background in the US.  Generally speaking, life has been good to us and our desire to have a child was partially out of a feeling of wanting to share that feeling with another human being.  I have not always been able to feel this way about life and I will not be surprised if you are puking in your trash can right now with my overload of cheesy introspective emotion.

Don’t worry, I will not be sporting all that “Life is Good” wear, but general, Life is Good, for us.  I have been reading Melissa Faye Greene’s book, There is No Me Without You, and I am certain that we are moving in the correct direction with Ethiopian Adoption.  I will share more about my sobbing page flipping at 2:30 in the morning in a later post, but if any of you are familiar with this book I am sure you have the same reaction.

Am I grateful our IVF did not work?  Absolutely not, I do not believe that everything happens for a reason.  I am grateful that through this entire spirit challenging process, my love for my child continued to grow.  Things do not happen for a reason, sometimes we have enough strength left after being beating down to see a silver lining and sometimes there are coincidences.  

I am grateful that although my body may not be able to bear a child, my heart can still produce enough love to compensate. 

 

What happened to summer?

And, well, my desire to post more…..  In my defense, I am in the process of drafting many posts for our adoption blog, training for a marathon (in 23 days), and working our busy season.  I do owe you all a little love though.

I heard on the radio that Labor Day is the official end of summer, and although I agree with the idea, the use of official is incorrect.  The official end of summer is with the start of fall, which is not synced with Labor Day.  Yes, it feels like fall, but it is technically still summer.

Don’t even get me started on the misuse of ironic & literally.

The reason why I am so seasonally focused is because I keep telling people we will most likely have a baby in the spring or summer. There are no guarantees and things can “happen”,  but I have been scouring the Ethiopian adoption forums & blogs and that seems to be the typical time frame.  Not to mention, Mr. Jitter’s is on overdrive and is already starting to lay out documents for me to sign on the coffee table. If things go his way, our dossier will be completed before the home study is finished. Like most other adoptive parents, I want the time to pass as quickly as possible and you always seem to hope for the best.

Hope for the best – Ha – that is a new one. Unlike in infertility, where I despised child related items and detoured around Target so I could avoid that section at all costs, I am now starting to embrace parenthood.

Yes, I am still am infertile and I will always be, but for this first time in my life I feel like I can buy children’s items because there is more of a guarantee that there will actually be a child at the end of this long process.  I have ramped up the child’s book collection, am finishing all my child related knitting projects, and my mother has started clipping me articles about how bad plastic bottles are.  She also is offering to buy us a crib and changing table (yes I picked one out already, but I am too freaked out to even go look at them in person much less have her order it for us).  She even managed to finagle my Grandmother’s rocking chair, which belonged to my namesake Great-Grandmother.   I am 1 of 17 grandchildren on my mother’s side, so you can imagine how special that makes me feel.

I am new to this whole adopting thing, but is there a official, or even unofficial name for what I am going through???

excitedreliefnervapation is all I can come up with.

It is entirely out of my comfort zone to feel more excitement than fear.  I am even starting to not loathe pregnant people.  Note: I said starting – that emotion will never disappear entirely – those knocked up hoars still piss me off..  The baby items I have acquired over the years are starting to creep out of storage and have even appeared on our dining room table.  Wow – there may actually be a child in this house in a few seasons.

Now, I just hope my excitement is not shattered at our 2 day adoption meeting next week.  I cannot help but make the comparison of myself at my current stage and a first time clomider.  Yes, I was that first time clomider years ago and I learned my lesson, a harsh lesson at that.

I hope that does not happen again.

 

Fertile Fashionista

Going around the lake with Mr. Jitters we just witnessed the ultimate fashion faux-paux. I am not talking plumbers butt or muffin tops but really a really bad, state fair bad, t-shirt.

This bad…..

Really, because even if she was 9 months pregnant with quintuplets she was clearly still fat. I am not talking a little extra pudge fat, but really fat.  So pregnancy was an excuse for her to blame her fatness on?

What can she blamer her stupidity on?

She needed this t-shirt……

 

Could I have a better Mr.?

Here is a note the Mr. e-mailed to our friends who are writing reference letters.  He is just so damn sweet.  Try not to puke as you read ahead.  (I changed our names in case you are wondering)….

K…, K…., and K…. (and the significant others that are helping in the process),

As you all know “Jitters” and I are a bit overwhelmed recently with baby issues, which results in us being a bit scattered in our thoughts and probably lacking in the appreciation department. So, I want to at least say thank you via email for your friendship, kindness, and help in moving us forward in the adoption process. Also, thank you so very much for agreeing to write reference letters on our behalf. The exciting news is that we got into the September round of adoption training, a two day training for potential adoptive parents which we have to take. The original date was not until the end of October, so moving to the September dates, decreases our wait time between the different phases of the process. We will of course keep you posted as we move through the adoption process, most likely not through email, but in person.

Love to all of you,

Mr. Jitters

 

Out with the old, in with the….

As I was rummaging through the bathroom closet this morning frantically looking for my travel size shampoo, I pulled out a OV predictor test.  I pleasantly chuckled to myself and then chucked that bad boy in the trash.

No, it was not used.  Ahhh…. a fresh foil package.

No, I will never need it again.  Ever.  Seriously.  We are done trying to get pg that way.

Then, someone tell me why I dug through the snotty tissues, drain hair, and waxy q-tips to rescue it so it could again safely reside in the closet till I find it again and repeat this sick act.

Why do we not throw these things away?  We are done trying to birth children and I should have a ceremony to purge my house of needles, 1/2 filled vials of progesterone, unused tests, and, well, the occassional positive pregnancy test that dear Mr. Jitters got sick of looking at on the dining room buffet but realized would crush me if he threw it away so he stuck it in my sunglasses drawer.  It has been sitting there for 2 weeks and will most likely stay there till that piece of furniture goes bye-bye. Yup, seriously, just ask DD who so graciously touched it and confirmed that it was positive when she came up to visit from NE.  Come to think of it, did she wash her hands after touching my pee stained stick?  I guess she felt she owed me for tasting her as* flavored BC pill.

It has been a serious shame that I have been so incredibly sick that I have not been able to post about DD’s visit and our lunch with Alexa.  Those two fabu-ladies beat me to the punch and told their sides of the story, but they left out a huge detail.

They were both there for me when I needed them most.  Yes, we all have our own IF problems to deal with, but both of them were willing to put their stuff aside and support me.  A year ago, before I was even part of this online family, I felt so alone.  I have friends, very loving and dear friends, but no one I knew was having the same heartache we were experiencing.  These two ladies, and many more of you, have helped me in a way no others could.  For that huge feat, I am grateful.

I am lucky enough that the wicked smart Alexa lives under 10 miles from me and she has been a huge support.  I can see her for random IF visits, but also for cocktails, med swaps, knitting events, and now book club! Plus, as DD posted, she is really WICKED SMART.  I have never met anyone who can whip out a reference, creative or factual, faster than I can even send a signal to my brain to start to think of something somewhat related.  Plus, she is just so kind.  Witty, kind, smart – a lethal combination perhaps?  Oh, no, it is the supertalented Alexa!  I need to make up some elaborate story about how we met, becasue when I tell people online they cock their head and judge me.  Sad, but true.  Story plots welcome….

An then there is the hottest girl outta Nebraska – the temperature in that state must have dropped 20 degrees when she crossed the state line.  Will was not buying drinks for me, but for her – I saw him oogling her at the bar.  She is absolutely Fabulous in every way possible and incredibly non-Nebraska like (that is a compliment….).  Don’t be putting any small town midwest stereotypes on this lady, cause she will blow them all away.    I am still in awe that she endured constipation and drove across states of corn fields to see me.  Granted, she did come to see a new baby also, but also ME.  I am so grateful that she actually came to visit me – it was DD who “invited” me into the blogging world at a time when I needed a ton of support and she then proved to be a very dear and selfless friend again by coming to see me in a time of complete dispair.  Not only is she the hottest gal outta NE, but she is the uber-Blogger, and for that matter, the uber-friend.

I am ending the era of IVF not with a baby, but with new friends.  It was not the new relationship I expected to take out of this whole ordeal, but at least I do not have change their diapers!