Other discoveries

Yesterday I was writing about recent self discoveries, but then I realized afterwards that I have had some recent other discoveries. The main one is: you can't trust Lorrie. She looks sweet and innocent, but she's a LIAR.
Well, OK, you can trust her for the most part. She's actually a pretty good person, and I don't really want to alienate my most loyal reader by saying this. But she did lead me astray during a recent visit to the OBGYN. We met for lunch downtown, where, incidentally, I discovered something else about myself: I don't like tzasiki sauce. But anyways, we were going to look around at this and that, and then I wanted to go home and take a quick shower before the big PAP-eroo. But Lorrie says, she says, and I quote "Oh. Don't worry. They're not going to do a pap. It's just your first visit. All they're going to do is ask a bunch of questions." So then I trusted her.
Flash forward an hour later and I was sitting in a tiny exam room wearing a paper towel, waiting for a pap test. So I phoned her up, told her that I was in a dire situation. So she says "Just use the wet wipes on the end table." I was relieved to hear that was a Plan B. So I hung up and went to retrieve a wipe. Empty!!! So I phoned her back . "The tub is empty!" I said, panicked. I contemplated using soap from the soap dispenser, but she cautioned me against this, saying that it could leave a bubbly residue. So I was screwed. And to think that I had gone to all the trouble of buying new shoes, new stockings, a new shirt AND a new camisole special for the occasion. I had even bought breath mints. But now all of that was going down the toilet because I skipped the shower and surely she would know. It was a disaster. So next time, if Lorrie ever tells you that they won't do a pap test, don't believe her. Go home, shower, shave, make sure your pre pap routine is complete. She cannot be trusted in this regard.
The other thing I have discovered recently, which I report with some regret, is that my son Gage has now surpassed me in terms of political savy. He wanted to know who I would vote for in the election (they are doing a unit on it at school). At that precise moment a commercial came on for Lorne Calvert. So I said "I'll just vote for that guy. He seems nice." Gage was like "Mom, you can't vote for him." I was like "Why? He's not running?" And he says "Well he's running, but you have to vote for the candidate running in your riding?" And I was like "What do you mean?" And he said that if I wanted to vote Calvert that I would actually have to vote for Andy Iwanchuck, which seemed absurt to me, but I did some looking into it and dog gone if he isn't right about that. And then the other night an enemurator came to the door. He asked if I knew how I was going to vote, to which I replied "I'm still undecided," which sounded better than "I have about as much interest in this election as I do in dryer lint", which was what I was thinking. And actually, upon further thought, perhaps dryer lint is more interesting. I mean, where does it come from?? Bat back to the enumerator: Then my darling son materializes and chimes in "She doesn't know who to vote for. She doesn't even know who's running!!" I simply laughed teresely and reiterated that I was still undecided and had some thinking to do on the matter. I felt rather badly that my nine year old son seems to be more abreast of these things than I do, but I will defend myself by saying that he is technically almost ten. And it's not my fault because they don't talk a lot of politics on the shows that I watch-- Flip that House and Criminal Minds, so it's hard to stay informed. Anyways. Onto other matters.
Things with my husband are at a stand still. Last night he proposed that we should start using condoms. Condoms! Like I'm back in high school all over again. Honestly. I said I didn't want to use condoms. He said he doesn't want to have sex then. So now I am screwed, but not in the literal sense. Well, actually, I am because he decided after we had already had sex that he wanted to start using condoms. Now I didn't feel like getting into a big discussion at that point, but I guess there will be one coming at some point. It is getting harder to convince him. Last time we fought for about two days, and then finally I got my way, not because he really wants to have another baby but because he felt that he had to give in to me for the sake of our marriage. I don't know. I guess I can just poke holes in the condoms or something like that. I'll have to work something out. Will keep you posted on that situation.

Self Discovery

At the ripe old age of thirty years, you would think that by now I would know everything there is to know about everything, and even more so, about myself. So this thing called 'self discovery' that these new agers all speak of is hard to achieve for someone like me. But this past week I have discovered two important things about myself, that I had absolutely no idea about before. One is that I am actually not very good at black jack. Two is that I actually like tuna salad. Now, perhaps they are not deep or profound, but I think that their everyday utility makes them important learnings nonetheless.
The first learning occured at Geoff's staff party this Thursday past. It was a little shindig to celebrate the end of golf season. After dinner we had this little casino thing (when Geoff's planning the event, you can bet there's gonna be either gambling or football. Thankfully, for this venue, it was gambling.) We were given $40,000 play money to gamble with. I lost it in about half an hour at the black jack table. The people at the table said that I was terrible at blackjack, and in fact, probably shouldn't play it anymore, but that I was a really sweet girl. Geoff kind of felt bad for me when I told him that, but I was like "well, in the scheme of things, would you rather be remembered as a good blackjack player, or a good person?" Geoff said black jack player, but I think it's an honor to be considered 'sweet'. Anyways, being that I'm married to Geoff he gave me another 40G's. So I was back in the game. People wondered where I had gotten my fat stack of cash from, certainly they knew that I hadn't won it, and I was like 'you have to be sleeping with the banker'. But even as I said the words, another young blondie went up to him and he slipped her another wad, too. I was like "But, perhaps there are other factors operating there. Or at least I hope so." So, all in all, it was good time, despite the fact that I lost eighty thou and my husband may or not be having an affair. There was cheescake and bruschetta, so I was happy.
The other learning took place last Saturday at the HQC seminar. They had all these little sandwiches for lunch, and I didn't want to take most of them because they had mustard on them, so I had no choice but to take the tuna salad one on the offchance that I might like it. Certainly, I knew it would be better than mustard. For those of you who know me, you will note my strict "No condiments" philophy, which I live and die by except in one rare case: I will eat ketchup with frozen fish sticks. And that is the one and only time. Otherwise, I do not like ketchup anywhere within a two foot radius of my food. I don't even like to touch the bottle. Ditto for mustard, mayo, relish, etc. But anyways, as I was saying, about the conference, the pickings were slim for a picky person like me so I rather reluctantly took the tuna. I was loathe to take a bite, but I was hungry so I tasted it warily. But I liked it!! I couldn't believe it. So that was interesting. There I was, eating a tuna salad sandwich, something that I had never thought possible. So it just goes to show: conquer your fears!! If I can eat tuna salad, you can go bungee jumping or scale Everest. The sky's the limit. Dream the impossible dream.
One more quick thing before I go. You remember the difficulty I was having with my Hazelnut coffee cream at work last month?? Well I jus like to let you all know that problem is now resolved. On Friday, I was presented with a bottle of it from the staff in lieu of the stuff they had used and we all agreed to share from now on and take turns buying it. So in summary. Life is good. I have Hazelnut at work, I like tuna and am generally regarded as a sweet girl. It couldn't possibly get any better than that. Could it??

The war wages on.

Here I am again. I don't know why I do this, people. You say 'we want the blog', 'we need the blog'. So I write one and what response do I get? Nothing. A comment from my mom and my SIL. I mean, bless them (and really, I do. They're great people. If you don't know them, you should meet them), but the thing is that I talk to them like every day anyways. So I don't really need to write a blog for them. You see where I'm going with this? But anyways.
For those of you who are familiar with dates and holidays, you will note that today is Halloween. This year was quite swell. Gage was a vampire and Payton was Dora. It was a busy day and it is good now to relax. I am looking forward to throwing out our Jack O Lanterns, as they seem to have sprouted hairs. I've consulted the manuals, and apparently this is a bad sign. I know you may thinking 'what manuals are there for pumpkins and where shall I purchase mine?' Well, there are a variety of manuals available (You and Your Gord, Harper Collins; Gording to Know your pumpkin, McNally Robinson and Pumpkins for Dummies, Random House Press.) They are very titillating if you love pumpkin trivia and facts, which I can only assume that any warm blooded woman would. The pumpkin issue aside, every year I seem to notice a disturbing trend. My children were trick or treating for about forty five minutes and got about two bags of candies each, which if you do the calculations, is about fourteen cubic centimeters of candy every four minutes. I am quite certain that when I was a child this formula was quite different. To get that same amount of candy I probably would have had to go trick or treating for nine to eleven hours. And it's not just the quantity of candy that's on the rise. The quality is also much improved. During my trick or treating years, I got probably 85% crap-- which includes those horrid molasses things, God only knows what they're made of, those "Rockets' which are just like chalk or something, jelly beans, raisins and suckers. These days it's 85% chocolate bars and chips, 15% 'other'. These kids these days. They just don't know how good they have it. I'll tell ya, it wasn't like that back in my day. Back in my day we had to walk thirteen miles in forty below weather with no shoes on just to get a mesely bag of Rockets and raisins, but it was worth it because that comprised at least 50% of your candy consumption for the year. Nowadays, candy is like a staple in thier diet. My kids don't even eat their Halloween Candy because they get better candy just in the usual course of their daily lives. Well, I guess, I'm to blame for that, really, but I'm a victim of this society, so I don't know any better, so don't be hatin'.
Onto other matters. They say that 'once an addict always an addict' and that recovery is just day by day "One day at a time, Sweet Jesus"). This is a lesson that I have learned through my many wise and learned years. And I guess that pregnancy test addictions are more similar to other addictions than I had realized. I seem to have caught the buzz again. Some months ago, I posted a little diddy called "My last pregnancy test". Sadly, unbenounced to me at the time, that was not to be the case. So now I am back at it, although I do seem to be able to space them out by two to four days in between tests, which is good. I did one today, which was negative. I just hate it because I never really know what is up with me. I haven't had my period since... well it's complicated to explain. Here is a rundown of my menstual cycle for the past several months. I know that is something that weighs heavy on everyones mind.
Nov 23 '06-- miscarried
Dec 24 '06--Started period
Jan 22 '07 --Started period
Feb 22 '07--Last period before next misc.
Mar 20 '07--Positive preg. test
April 23 '07-- Miscarried.
May '07--No period
June '07-- No period
July '07-- Induced period July 2
-Postive preg test July 31/07
August 30/07--Miscarried
Sept/07--No period
Oct/07--No period.
So, it seems that things have been out of whack. I think my uterus took a little vote and voted to strike. It's like "they don't pay me enought for this S**T." and just walked off the job, which, to a certain extent, I could understand, because it has had a rather busy year. I asked to OBGYN about it and she was like 'it doesn't really matter. As long as you get four periods a year we don't worry about it." She said the only thing is that it will make it harder for me to get pregnant, but the only way to regulate it is to go on the pill, which, obviously will make it even harder to get pregnant. I don't see her again until January, so hopefully things will straighten themselves out before then, because I don't even know if I can get pregnant at the moment with things like this, not that we're really trying to, but at the same time, we're not trying not to try, either. You're probably not following me, but that's OK. Anyways. Today a patient at my work asked me if I was pregnant. I said "No. Why do you ask? Am I getting fat? (and face it, I am. Read my entry "Roll out the barrel for my feelings on that subject). She said I looked 'glowing' like a pregnant person. I said no, that was just the after effect from being overworked (I'll thank the nursing shortage for that), but thanks. Anyways. I guess that is all I really wanted to say. Have a nice night!!!

Hello Kitty

Well, I've decided to post again after much public pressure. Okay. In reality, there were two people who asked me about the blog. But, really, two people is nothing to sneeze at. And it's not the size of the wand, anyways, it's the magic it can perform. Well, now I think I'm onto another subject entirely.

So it's been a month since I've blogged. The leaves are turning color, a testament to the fact that the seasons are changing once again. Things for me remain much the same, with few differences. First off, we are, again, in the process of getting a new coffee pot at work. The old one sprung a leak. So this is interesting and exciting. I'm not a big coffee drinker, but still, it's hard not to get caught up in the fervor of it.

On the home front, my dad came to visit me this week. It was nice to have company. I prepared a nice pot roast which was well recieved, though I still don't undertand why they call it pot roast. Where's the pot?? What does the pot have to do with anything?? It's perplexing, but I try not to spend too much time thinking about it. Some things we simply must accept for what they are.I think I shall have to add that little peice to my stand up act. "What's the deal with pot roast? It's a roast, but it's not a pot." Jerry Seinfeld eat your heart out. At any rate, for those of you who have not heard my stand up routine, just trust me when I say it's quite stellar. I would post it on here, but it just wouldn't do it justice because in comedy, delivery is everything. From the reviews that I have gotten so far, my delivery is spot on. It basically makes the routine. So. I can't post it on here. Perhaps sometime, for those of you lucky ones, you will get to hear it. As for my other career, I continue to soldier on with the book that I am writing. I am almost finished it now and am pleased with the progress. I submitted a query letter to a literary agent, and am hoping to hear something one way or the other soon. If I can get an agent, there is some chance that I could get it published. Without an agent, I will surely perish as a writer and be forced to live off of wieners and beans. Pot roast will be a thing of the past for me, such as it is.

As for the whole baby issue, things are still very much up in the air right now. The bad news is that Geoff states that he does not wish to have any more children. The good news is that it seems to me that he hasn't quite figured out where babies come from as he is not particularly insistent on using any form of birth control. As such, I continue to take my folic acid every day. I find this time of year a bit tricky, as I am approaching yet another due date. My due date from the pregnancy I lost in April was November 29th. I find it hard to believe that I would already be close to term and perhaps starting my mat. leave soon. I see people who are very pregant and think to myself "I would look like that now, too." But. Instead I am getting a kitten. Kittens are cute, though. So. I guess that should be good.

The kitten will be here tomorrow at 10 sharp. Her name is Zoey Brooks Makepeace and we got her for free out of the paper. She looks fairly cute and the children much anticipate her arrival. I can only hope that the cat experiment goes better than the dog experiment, which went terribly awry (see: Goodbye my Friend for more details.) Will post a picture of the Zoeymiester tomorrow. Have a nice night.

Roll Out The Barrel

As you know, I am well into my thirties now. The arthritis hasn't crept in yet, and I haven't started listening to AM radio yet, but some changes are taking place. First of all, I seem to be noticing that my clothes aren't fitting so great. At first I blamed it on the dryer- that somehow my pants had gotten shrunk but everything else in the laundry was spared. But a quick visit to the weigh scale tells me that this is not the case. The title of this blog reflects how I am feeling body image wise. I have this vision of myself, rolling out of the house and being hoisted down the sidewalk, and the neighbors will gather round and stomp and clap and sing "Roll out the barrel". It sucks, really. So now I guess I'm going to have to try to lose weight. But its not easy. Its so much more compelling to just sit and watch TV.
Secondly, I fear I may be losing my mind. I don't know if Altzheimers can creep in this early or not, but I feel it slowly approaching. Yesterday there were two incidents that worried me. I went shopping at Wal Mart and went to return to my van. I turned the key to unlock it, and it wouldn't open. So I kept on trying and trying and was like 'what the hell?' Finally, I looked inside the van and noticed that it wasn't mine. Mine was parked a row over. Talk about emberassing. So then I went to my van, opened it up and put my stuff inside. Being the responsible customer that I am, I pushed my cart over to the little cart area and then returned to my vehicle. I drove home. When I got home I realized I didn't have my purse with me. Panic. So I drove like a madman (or madwoman, I guess) back to Wal Mart. My purse wasnt there. I asked at the customer service desk if any purses had been turned in and they said no. I went home, despondent, dejected, cursing myself. Now I was going to have to cancel all my credit cards (fat lot of good they were going to do to anyone, anyways), phone all these places to try to get more ID. What a hassle. But when I got home, there it was. Like magic. Someone had found it and drove it back to it's home. I was so happy. My husband was kind of like 'how could you leave your purse in a shopping cart?', which I suppose is a valid point. I could use the kids as an excuse and say that they distracted me, but in actuality I didn't have the kids with me. So there's no excuse, no other explanation. It's altzheimers. Soon my kids will be spooning me pureed applesauce and reminding me not to leave the stove on. Well, I guess I've had some good years. Anyway, alls well that ends well.
On to other issues. The hazelnut creamer. I bought another bottle of it on Monday and left it the fridge at work. Now I know that strictly speaking, it doesn't have to be refrigerated, but I found it vaguely disturbing to have it sitting out all night and then pour into my coffee and ingest it. It makes me seriously question what the hell is in that stuff that it doesn't go sour. So psychologically, I just feel better when I put it in the fridge. But things have gone much better this week. I bought the no fat kind ( remember- 'roll out the barrel') and this does not seem to be as popular with those greedy little gobblers. So I think I've solved two problems at once. I figure there was probably a gram or two of fat per serving of that stuff, so even by just drinking the no fat kind I could probably lose like about a pound in about eighteen months. So that should be good. I'll be a size eight again by the time I hit forty for sure.

Happy Anniversary Baby

So today is our anniversary, if you couldn't tell by the title of my blog. This may come as a surprise to my mother, who had my wedding date pegged as something TOTALLY different during a recent game of Trivial Pursuit the Randine Edition (Copyright Lorrie Sorowski productions, patent pending). She didn't even get the year right. Pu-Leez. So for those of you not in the know- this is our fourth year of wedded bliss. Or wedded something.
Our wedding night. A beautiful night. Romance. Tender kisses. Softly whisperd professations of love. This is how one might envision a wedding night. But ours was different. First of all our accomodations got all screwed up so we ended up sleeping in the cabin that had been henceforth unrentable because of some problems with the heating and lighting. And by problems with the heating and lighting- I mean NO heating or lighting. And then my husband decides to go off to someone elses cabin to party. I was like 'what am I supposed to do here'. He was like 'chill'. And so I did. Quite literally so. Mere hours into the marriage and there I was- cold, alone, and in the dark. Not quite how I pictured things. Geoff wasn't actually gone for long. It probably seemed longer than it was. Hard to have a sense of time when you're in the complete blackness. And so then we were totally intent on having s*x, not because we really wanted to but because we felt like we HAD to do it, on account it was our wedding night and all. So this resulted in a lengthy discussion/argument about who would have to be on top, because we were both too tired to really expend any energy. Anyways, it was a rather poor effort on both our parts, and would have to go down as one of my low points, sexually speaking, right next to that one rather unfortunate night with this one guy who was a real loser, thanks to a little too much merrity at the old tavern. Anyways, here we are now, four years later. Still married, despite our dreary beginning. Four years is actually four times longer than I ever thought we would be married. That first year was tough slugging. But I do go on.
Anyways, the good thing about spending your wedding night cold, alone and in the dark is that there is literally nowhere to go but up. So I can truly say that I am happier today that I was four years ago at this time. Although right at this precise moment I am not sure-- Payton is shrieking, the dog is puking and Gage is refusing to do his homework. I may have been cold and alone that night, but the key word there is ALONE. It's not such a bad thing.
Speaking of alone- my little Pooky is going to be going to my 'rents cabin tomorrow for the week. We shall miss her but it shall be a nice break. And when I say Pooky, just for the sake of clarity-- I mean Payton, not Geoff. I love him, but not that much.
Anyways, as far as marriage goes, things are good. Four years comes and goes quickly. Geoff is no picnic to be married to, let me tell you. In case you haven't noticed- he's not exactly Mr. Congeniality most of the time- or even half of the time. But you know, what can I say?? I have learned to accept him for who he is- flaws and all, and I have found that in four years he has become a much better man, husband and father. I am sure that for him, being married to me IS truly a picnic, as I know that I am without faults, so that's a lucky thing for him. One thing that I have noticed about Geoff when it comes to anniversaries is he ALWAYS buys me cards with cartoons on them. Every year I expect to get a really sweet, mushy card, and then I end up getting a card with Snoopy that has some cheesy line in it. Anyways, I had better be going. It is my anniversary after all, and I definately plan on getting it on. So I shall report on that later. TTFN.

The Great Hazelnut Heist

Let me see. Where to start. Well, I guess first of all, the biggest and most stressful thing that has happened was the Great Hazelnut Heist of last week. I brought with me when I went back to work a full bottle of hazelnut creamer and left it in the fridge. I only drink a cup of coffee a day so you would think this would last me a while. But on Friday I went to make a cup of coffee, and the creamer bottle was in the fridge- completely empty. This is a source of much frustration for me. Everyone at work denies using it- and believe me you I was very vocal about the fact that my creamer supply had been depleted. I don't know what to do. I write my name on it but it doesn't seem to be enough. I'll have to somehow devise a contraption so that the lid can only be opened with a lock and key.
The other news is that I've started taking my folic acid again. I'll tell you- a little bottle of folic acid can actually go a long way- a lot longer than a bottle of hazelnut cream that's for sure. So that has been good. Geoff hasn't actually agreed to trying again, but I'll worry about that later. It's a minor detail, and the way I look at it- sperm is a pretty cheap commodity. There are a number or routes to go to get some- some of which could be kind of fun. Anyways, we aren't using anything for contraception so I basically take that as implied agreement that he could live with another baby. Not that we'll necessarily have a baby. I just get pregnant but it never seems to lead to a baby. Well, better luck next time. I've read some stuff online and according to some sources, my chances are still good- 70% or so. So I think that is encouraging.
Unfortunately, there's not much else to report. I seem to be really very tired these days, so my creative energy is low. I'm really pumped about the new line up of TV shows. That should be exciting once they start up again. Anyhoo, I will try to do better next time. Peace out.

On the blog again

Well, here I am. On the blog again. I have decided to make my blog public, because let's face it- it's not going to open the floodgates. There is not as wide an audience of people who are dying to read about my menstral cycles and pregnancy woes as you might think. So, that is that. I am going to remove some posts maybe. There is not a whole lot new with me.

One big thing is that I turned thirty recently. I didn't really want to turn 30. I don't know why. It's just kind of- you know. I feel old. And perhaps I am old. I seem to notice that I cannot jump on the trampoline without having to empty my bladder first in order to avoid certain problems from occuring. My bladder control is going south. Perhaps I will soon be in Depends. If that happens to me- try not to judge. It could happen to you if you were pregnant six times.

Speaking of pregnant six times, I got an appointment time for Oct 12 to see this new doc. An OBGYN dealy kind of doc. Hopefully she will be nice. Regretfully, she is not yet on RateMDs.com
so I can not dig any dirt on her. Most doctors are nice, though, so operating under that pretense, I'm sure it will be fine. It's a bit disapointing that its a month away, but what can you do? Things are going well though and I guess at this point I'm just glad that that last pregnancy is behind me because it was a difficult ordeal from the get go with my HCG being crap and so on and so forth. I am back at work and it wasn't so bad to be back.
The other news with me is that I took the plunge and did it... painted my kitchen. Some time ago there was some controversy over paint color (see 'More Decisions' Mar/07). I have decided to go with yellow, after Gails insightful comments that "yellow is the new taupe". I must say that it looks great and you are all invited to come and check it out. It was a bit of a pain to paint, shall we say it puts the 'pain' in 'paint'?? Get it. That's pretty funny. Almost as funny as my 'dime a dozen' joke. For those of you who don't know it- you'll have to wait until my stand up act comes out to here. I don't want to say too much right now. But it's funny. Anyways, as I said, the kitchen looks good. I am enjoying it quite a bit.
So basically, that is all. There is more to write about being 30, but it's too much to get into right now. Perhaps next time. Toodles.

Another tatoo for me

I had my ultrasound this morning. On the way there the sun was shining. "Good Vibrations" (by Marky Mark) was playing on the radio. I recalled my last appointment where it was drizzly and cool and sad songs were playing. I thought maybe the contrast between the two appointment dates was a sign that this appointment was destined to go better. I allowed myself to get my hopes up. But I should not have. The gestational sac that was there before is still there, but it is flat like a pancake now. The walls have collapsed in because there is nothing inside to keep them open anymore. So it seems that once again I will have to try to pick up the pieces and move on. It's weird because I never held out much hope for this pregnancy from the beginning, but I guess there was always this part of me that thought I would be wrong. This part of me that always insisted 'it won't happen again!'. I took the results in stride, it seemed so surreal that this was happening again. I guess there are worse things in life- but it still seems unfair. Well, anyways, I'm going to go now and maybe take a nap. I didn't sleep well last night- worried about the appointment and so on. Thanks for reading.

The jury is still out...

Just wanted to let y'all know that there is still no news for me. My doctors apt. was today but it was cancelled. I have my ultrasound tomorrow so she reschuled me for Friday because she wanted to wait until she had my ultrasound before seeing me so that she has some more information. Ultrasound tomorrow at 9:20. Dr. Apt Friday at 4:45. So far things seem normal. No bleeding or cramping or anything, breasts still sore. I'm really hoping for some good news tomorrow! Will let you know how it goes.

Maybe some hope for me

I just talked to my doctor again. Busy lady- she called from her cell phone on her way to the hospital to do a delivery. But the news is good- or at least, as good as we could expect. My HCG is 10, 800 something something. So it is still going up, which is good to know. I definately feel a little bit better now, although I am still not in the clear. We are going to do another ultrasound next week and hopefully it will show some improvements. She said we should still be cautious, but there is at least still some hope. Well, that is all for now.

Not looking very good...

The fat lady I alluded to yesterday is excersising her voice. She may sing. She may not. What I mean by that is- it may be over, it may not be. Got my ultrasound results today and the results are inconclusive. It sounds a lot like last time. Gestational sac measuring five weeks two days, no fetal pole or fetal heart, which would be considered a normal finding if I were, indeed five weeks two days, but I'm actually seven weeks, so it doesn't quite measure up. My doc says her gut feeling is that it's probably not good. Nothing to do but wait and see. She sent me for a blood test to see if my HCG is up or down from last time. If it's up then the viability of this pregnancy is still in a 'grey zone' and we will just have to wait and do another ultrasound in a week or so. If it's down then we know that it is a miscarriage. Won't get the results til tomorrow, but that is OK. I've waited this long, another day can't hurt. Dr. Fenton says that I should probably prepare myself for the worst. On the up side- she said that if I do lose this one they will actually be able to investigate things rather than just the usual 'too badm, so sad' routine. One miscarriage is considered bad luck. Two- really bad luck. Three- beyond what bad luck alone could possibly account for and warrants further investigation. She said that there are some things they will look into-- blood tests for abnormal clotting factors, check the uterine lining for abnormalities, check my hormones. She says regardless of what these tests find she will definately put me on progesterone next time and we could hope to have a better outcome. Anyways, this is unfortunate news for me, but I guess... that's life sometimes. It can suck pretty hard core. And at least things aren't as bad as on this movie I watched today where a girl got trapped alone on a boat with an ax wielding maniac. It's like they say- the only thing worse than this pile of shit is an ever bigger pile of shit- and that is presicely a bigger shit pile. I would take several miscarriages in a row compared to being trapped on a ship with a pychopath, although she does turn out to survive in the end and live happily ever after- albeit with a few minor lacerations and frizzy hair. Well, I guess on that note I should be going. Thank you for your readership.

It's not over til the fat lady sings

I had my ultrasound today. A big shout out to Trent and Lorrie for babysitting for me, and thereby making this event possible. It wasn't without some apprehension that I drove to my appointment. Partly due to the appointment itself but also partly due to the fact that it was drizzling outside and my windshield wipers don't work- a slight problem that is a non consideration when it's not raining outside, but becomes a rather large problem when it does rain. I wondered if it was a sign or some sort of grim foreshadowing that it was overcast as I pulled into the parking lot. It looked gloomy, which left me with a feeling of foreboeding, although perhaps I would have encountered that no matter what the cloud coverage. A song played on the radio: Far Away by Nickleback, which was something of a reminder of my miscarriage with Reid. I came home that day from that ill fated doctors appointment and promptly began cleaning my kitchen while music played from the TV. The words to the sung struck me: I love you, I've loved you all along. For it seemed to encapsulate so well what I was feeling- that I had loved this being from the very hint of a positive pregnancy test. You invest yourself so much in a pregnancy from it's very inception. Anyways, the particular song playing also seemed to be somehow a warning, or maybe even an epiphany. Something somehow significant. More significant than it seemed. I shook myself away from those thoughts and pulled myself along across the street and up the stairs to the ultrasound clinic. A new worry was beginning to pool- literally speaking. My bladder was feeling like it was about to burst. It was intensely uncomfortable. I wondered how long I would be left in the waiting room and if I would be able to contain myself.
Luckily, there wasn't much waiting and within a moment I was being led into a rather impressive examining room: Hardwood floors, low lighting. The ultrasound commenced. They did not tell me anything during the exam. I kept my eyes riveted to the screen, and I have to say that at no point did I see a fetal pole or a heart beat or even a gestational sac. But, keep in mind, I'm a lowly nurse and not a radiologist. I tried to get the technician to comment on the findings, but she remained fairly tight lipped. I shared with her my feeling that the uterus seemed to be empty, and she did concede that "we're not seeing exactly what we should be seeing here" but then concluded with "but your dates could be off". I said that I was pretty sure of my dates and then she again told me to speak with family doctor regarding the matter. Unfortunately, this proved difficult because they have yet to fax any results to her. So, basically, I am still waiting for the ax to fall. In a way it was a relief when the doctor called, I had been expecting her to say "Your ultrasound isn't reassuring". I felt like I had dodged a bullet when she merely said that she hadn't gotten the results yet and would let me know in the morning. A stay of execution.
I try to prepare myself for this, but it isn't easy. It's so hard to think about going through all those emotions once again. I went to the store today to get some fresh air. And what do I see. The two girls in front of me- bot pregnant out to high heavens. Buying cigarettes. Look like they're seventeen if they're a day. And then they begin to enter into a conversation with the clerk at the store about pregnancy. And she says 'Yeah, I think I'll be having another baby, too. I've got two teenage kids, but the problem is in a few years they'll move out and I'll be evicted from my place because it's low income housing and the only way I can stay on there and stay of welfare is if I have a dependent child'. MY GOD. I was thinking to myself: you're planning on having another baby because you cannot support your sorry white trash ass, so you need to use a baby as a crutch in order to recieve handouts??? And the two girls in front of me were all empathetic, saying 'yeah, we're low income housing, too'. And I was like 'how is it even remotely fair that I am the only person in this room who is deserving of having a baby, and yet, I'm the one who can't seem to get there?? If there is a God he is pretty shallow or stupid or has a terrible sense of humor!!
Anyways, I am trying to think about my doctor had said before about the progesterone. I will have to give it some serious thought and impress upon my Geoff my desire to give it a try. The thing is is that every time I have a miscarriage it makes my desire to have a baby stronger, but it seems to have the opposite effect on him- he seems less and less inclined to keep trying with each miscarriage. Well, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Like I said in the title- it ain't over til the fat lady sings.
Onto another pressing issue: What the hell ever happened to those delicious jelly rolls they used to make? You know the ones- you could get strawberry or chocolate. I just realized that they seem to be unavailable. I love those things! Has anyone seen one out there somewhere? Do let me know. Likewise, I will let you know about the results I get tomorrow, if any.

Wating for the ax to fall...

First day of holidays today. It should be exciting for me, but I find myself feeling rather melancholy. Maybe it's just the weather. I don't know. Maybe my pregnancy hormones are starting to kick into high gear and make me weepy. Maybe it's just the stress of the last few weeks. I spend my days basically just feeling like I'm waiting for the ax to fall, and almost hoping that it will. My HCG on Wednesday was 5500, which represented the highest increase yet. I was actually pretty pumped about it, because the whole time I was waiting for the results I just had this really bad feeling that it was going to go down. "This is going to be the day that it goes down", I kept thinking, bracing myself for the news.But it continues to go up. And on the one hand I can tell myself that as long as I'm not having any bleeding, cramping or spotting, and my numbers are going up, I should treat this as a normal pregnancy and not fret about it. However, a quick search on the internet proves that slow doubling times for HCG is generally indicitive of either an ectopic pregnancy or a failing intrauterine pregnancy. My doctors clipped tones are subtly suggestive of the fact that she herself is not overly optimistic, either. She's pretty vague about things, using words like 'concerning' and 'worrisome' when discussing my results but never out right saying what the chances are. She also made a point of saying that if I start bleeding or spotting I should call her immediately. And then she went on to suggest that if I miscarry again they may be able to give me some kind of treatment during my next pregnancy to reduce the risk- progesterone injections or something. It's kind of cold comfort for me because I'm really just counting on this pregnancy being OK. I don't know if Geoff would go for another one. In fact, I'm nearly certain that he won't. He's already relented to trying "one more time" three times, which is more than fair. To make matters worse for me, I'm feeling particularly vulnerable because Geoff is working more than ever now and I feel so stessed out and it sometimes seems the kids are crushing me- figuratively speaking. I would love a little breathing room, but it doesn't seem that that's anywhere in the near or distant future for me. I guess I am just feeling sorry for myself. But it's so maddening that I'm going through this AGAIN. Why can't things just be normal for me?? Perhaps they still will be but I'm sick of waiting to find out. My doctor is going to call and try to book an ultrasound for sometime next week- as I'm not scheduled until the 28th. The ultrasound is a cause for both excitement and fear. I'm excited to be able to find out if everything is OK but I'm scared because I don't know if I can take more bad news. But I guess I don't have a choice. Will let you know how the ultrasound goes. Keep your fingers crossed for me./

6 Weeks

6 Weeks 1 Day. Doing well. Got my results this morning, still a little low at 4,000- an increase of only 500 over 3 days, which may sound OK but considering the fact that it should have gone up by double (3500), it's not too great. But I'm not bleeding or spotting, no cramps or anything like that. So I take that as a fairly good sign. I talked to my doc this morning and she said we'll test the HCG again tomorrow and if it's still not doubling like it's supposed to she'll phone and try to beg for an ultrasound this week- as they're supposedly "booked solid" until August 28th- a fact which I can scarcely believe because an ultrasound only takes five minutes. You must be able to squeeze someone in. So I'll do the bloodwork tomorrow, no results until Thursday so that's another two days of waiting and wondering, poking at my breasts from time to time to see if they still hurt. But I truly appreciate my doctor. I phoned her office this morning and they said it was her day off. So I said 'can I leave her a message to call me tomorrow?". But then, not five minutes later and she was phoning me, probably from home on her day off. I don't see how that woman has a moment of spare time for herself. Anyways, the whole thing is a stressful situation for me but hopefully soon I will get some good news- either a good HCG or a good ultrasound. Keep your fingers crossed.

Maybe Baby

It can't happen again.
That's what I keep thinking, what I keep telling myself. Hopefully it won't, but right now it seems possible. We're monitoring my HCG levels, and normally they would double every 48 hours. My first blood test was on Wednesday. At that time, the level was at 2700, a little on the low side for 5 weeks (the norm would be 3500-100,000) but a single number in isolation doesn't really mean much. On Friday the level had risen, but far from doubled- it was 3500. So right now we don't really know much more than what I did at the start of this. It could go either way. Hopefully the numbers will pick up. But the other possibility remains- they might peter out. I tell myself that as long as they keep going up- even if it's not doubling exactly- that's OK. It's not over until they start going down. I did another test today, but won't know the result until tomorrow. It's hard all this waiting. I just wish the numbers would do what they're supposed to do or do nothing at all. The uncertainty seems worse. So another night of tossing and turning. If I lose this pregnancy I don't know what I'll do. I know that Geoff won't want to try again so this is my last chance. I try not to think about it.
Anyways, other than that things are great. Paytons party was good and it was well attended. She got a lot of cool stuff. I shall post some pictures of the birthday girl later. Have a nice evening. I shall post tomorrow the results of my latest blood test.

Still 5 Weeks

5 Weeks, 2 Days.
The days are passing slowly. Wish I could hit a fast forward button. Not that I want the pregnancy to be over. I wouldn't wish it away- it's my last one so I want to enjoy it!! When you look back on it after its all said and done it always seemed sort of sad to me. You know, you get used to the little squirmings and such. But I do want to get to a more exciting phase of things. Around sixteen weeks is good- starting to show, starting to feel movement, first ultrasound. But right now it's peeing and more peeing. I talked to my doc today and we will do an ultrasound next week. Have yet to book a date or time. And in the meantime it's bloodwork every other day to monitor my HCG levels. So within the next week or so I should have some more information on whether this pregnancy's going to be a keeper or a flusher. I know that's crude, and I can be crude sometimes, but I guess that's the way it goes when you're jaded and stressed and feeling bloated.
Other than that, things are going well with me. We are planning a big shindig on Saturday for Paytons birthday. She's really become our little princess- well I guess she always was- but it seems to be getting worse . She's become our roommate and sleeps with us more often than not. But Geoff and I are both powerless to resist her charms. For her birthday we are planning to get up early and make her a big breakfast in bed (which, will be actually our bed) and getting her a little bouquet of flowers for her special day. And then next on the agenda is hair and nails. Followed by your traditional hotdog and cake birthday party. Anyways, you may think that I'm a little nervy to be bragging up my own daughter as such, but to that I say- I only wish you could live your life with her in it for 24 hours and then you would feel exactly the same way. She really is precious. Ask anyone that knows her.
Happy to report that I am over my dog mourning. I have all but forgotten him and his yappy little bark. So, easy come, easy go, I guess. That is all for now. Will keep you appraised of the bloodwork and ultrasound. TTFN.

5 Weeks

I'm five weeks pregnant today. There's nothing really interesting happening. So far I'm not having any symptoms, which is OK because usually I don't really get anything like morning sickness until about seven weeks. Sometimes my breasts hurt and sometimes they don't. Whenever they don't I become deathly afraid that something horrible is about to happen. I have done four pregnancy tests just because I'm always thinking "what if I've already lost it..." Anyways, they're all positive so I guess that's a good sign. I'm neurotic and I try to pass the days by sleeping as much as possible and laying around. Everytime one of the kids jumps on me or the dog pounces me I become paranoid. I go to the bathroom all the time to make sure I'm not bleeding or anything. So far nothing like that. Tomorrow I will fax my doctor my positive pregnancy test result and ask her to book me an ultrasound for next week. I think I'll feel a lot better about things once I have that ultrasound. Assuming of course, that the ultrasound is OK.
Other than my neuroticism, there is nothing much new. One rather unfortunate development occured on Thursday of last week. We have to remove our jewelry at work to smudge in the morning. I guess I forgot to put my wedding bands back on afterwards. Now they are nowhere to be found. So of course, that was a rather sickening feeling for me. I filed a police report and everything. On the upside, the dude who took my statement was really hot. And the really crazy thing is that we share the exact same birthday. We will both be turning thirty soon. For a moment I thought it was Fate that brought us together. But then I remembered why I was there: to report my stolen WEDDING Bands. And that I'm pregnant. So I guess there's not much of a chance for Constable Wall and I. There's also not much of a chance that my wedding bands will ever be found. Our house insurance will pay for it but its a $500 deductible, so that sucks. Because of course, don't we all just have five hundred bucks laying around to spare? Well, maybe some of you do. Myself, a lowly nurse, I don't. Well, I should go. Peace out. And if any of you happen to be in a pawn shop and see my rings, please let me know!

My last pregnancy test

I have just done what I believe to be my last pregnancy test. The makers of Clear Blue Easy are certainly going to notice a decline in their sales (would definately recommend that brand to anyone who is in the market for a preg. test- easy to use applicator that turns pink when enought urine is collected, clear results five days before your period is due, and who can resist their marketing campaign- "the nicest peice of technology you'll ever pee on" - because it undoubtedly is, handles well, great curves. It was an honor to have peed on it. I purchased a test today, "just for fun" because my period isn't due til Monday, anyways. But low and behold, wonder of wonders, if that test didn't turn positive!! Imagine my reaction. I thought for sure that I wouldn't get pregnant on this cycle, what with my period being so screwy lately. But I guess I was wrong about that. So YAY!! Even more exciting is the fact that we don't need to do it anymore so I invite y'all to call me now again anytime- but not after ten because a woman in my condition must get plenty of rest.
But even as the shock and excitement settles in, so too does another feeling. Tonight I was pushing Payton on the swings at the park, and I thought- "another five years of pushing swings". And then I was washing her hair in the bath, and I thought "another five years
of washing hair and buying bubble gum flavored toothpaste".

What have I done? But it will be good, and this I know just as surely as I know... well, anything, like who shot JR for example. When the time comes I will only be too happy to do all of those things all over again. One more time.

I am officially three weeks and four days pregnant. Wish there was a zero after that three, but unfortunately- that's a LONG way off for me right now. I suppose we'll get there, one day at a time, one pound at a time, one craving at a time. The due date will be April 9th according to my calculations, so that should be a perfect time to have a baby. Well, anyways, guess I'd better sign off. It's after ten and I must take to the bed. Just wanted to let you all know. Peace out.

Don't call me, I'll call you.

Sometimes in life it's really handy to have a blog. Like today, for example. This has been happening for a while now, actually, like a week or so, but everyday I hear the phrase 'tapas style menu' on the radio at least two or three times a day. And I'm always left wondering 'what the sam hell is a tapas style menu?' So then I thought: I'll ask on my blog. Perhaps there are some of you out there who are familiar with a tapas style menu? For some reason I am picturing greek food or something, but I'm not sure if that's quite right. The only kind of food I know that starts with 'tap' is tapioca, but I'm pretty sure that their menu is not full of different types if tapioca. Honey Barbeque. Ranch. Orange Pekoe. If so, that would be rather dreadful. I'd bet the farm (talk about counting your chickens before they hatch-- a pun within a pun-- I'm so brilliant sometimes it scares me) that it would go under within a few months. I don't think that anyone even eats that stuff. Well, at least not people with teeth and hair.
The other news is that I've made a rather terrible discovery. I'm getting fat. And I'm not just saying that so that you can all post messages "Randine- you are SO not fat. You have a totally hot body and I'd shag you anytime" (however, I'm not totally discouraging such comments either, per se, though I expect not to get them from certain people IE- mom, dad, etc.), but really, truly, I think the 'middle age spread' is creeping up on me now. Thirty ishanging around, that big, obnoxious 3-0, lurking behind me, waiting to take hold of me and turn my body into mush and then dress me in Mom Jeans and Northern Reflections sweaters. I've noticed it a little here and there- certain pants not fitting quite the way they used to, etc, etc. Its been building up to this, now that I stop and think about it, it really has. And so then I thought, well I guess I'll do what fat chics do and just take a diet. But unfortunately, taking a diet is kind of tricky. This morning I was really hungry so I stopped at BK on the way to work to get a croissantwich meal. And then afer work we ended up having BK again, because it was just me and Gage for supper and what was I going to make for just the two of us? Cook a big roast and just slice off a little peice off the end for me and Gage and then throw the rest down the drain?? So, you see that I had no choice. And then I thought 'oh, well, I can just go for a walk or something later', but now I'm kind of tired and its really kind of hot outside so I'm thinking that the walk isn't going to happen, either. I guess I can go on what some of my clientele at work refer to as the "Jenny Crack" diet-- you can lose a lot of weight this way, believe me you, but you just have to be willing to be strung out on coke for a while and so on and so forth. Which could be OK. Don't knock it til you try it, right? That's what they say.

Lastly, just to let y'all kow that its that time again- Ovulationville. So just be forewarned that if you phone me in the evenings and such I may not be available to take your calls. So just keep that in mind. And if you do phone, limit your rings to under four. If I don't answer it before four rings then consider me shagging and hang up, because it can be something of a distraction and the mood really has to be just so. Well, actually, let me just put it this way: don't call me, I'll call you. Until further notice.

Still alive

Hi. I guess some of you might be wondering- well, except for you Nik- I saw you today while getting gas, or you Lorrie- saw you last night at Aunt G's, and also you Jodie & Jen- had lunch with you today. OK, that covers pretty much all of you, but for those others out there, and I know you're out there. I have to believe you're out there, otherwise what the hell am I doing wasting my days and nights away sitting alone in the basement on the computer?? But back to what I was saying. Some of you might be wondering if I'm alive or not, as I haven't been posting anything for a while. But alas, here I am, alive. Wounded but still breathing, barely breathing, but breathing nonetheless.
On Sunday I gave away my dog. Oh how I loved that little dog. And I could say that it was easy and for the best, but that would make me a liar, and my friends, a liar I am not. It was very difficult. There were tears. And everday when I come home from work I just feel like this house is a hollowed out empty shell of the place it used to be. Well I guess we still have one dog left. But she's kind of a lame excuse for a dog. All she does is lay around. You have to poke a stick at her to see if she's still alive or not. I poke her with a stick three times a day to make sure she's still kickin. If she flinches a little, she's OK. If not... time for the old cereal box/makeshift coffin. Depending on the size of the cereal box it could be something of a tight squeeze, so I'll have to bear this in mind when shopping for cereal from here on in. Of course, we do have those two kids we keep that run about asking for food and what not. I don't know where they came from but they do seem to be setting up shop here...
So today, I had a revelation. If Baxter needs to live on a farm, well then, maybe, just maybe, WE could live on a farm. Not a fully operational farm, mind you. I don't want to have to slaughter anything or cut anythings head off. That would kind of defeat defeat my animal loving philosophy of the farm. And it would also be a buzzkill. I mean like, okay kids, lets go kill animals today. Kids, draw your weapons. Sharpen the blades. Better put a smock over top of those new clothes. Anyways, you get the point. It would be depraved. Well, we wouldn't be moving any time soon, anyways. I'm pretty sure the bank would put a big old "rejected" sign on our loan application, as we've gotten ourselves into a big old juicy pickle here with our financeroos. I just feel better using the word financeroos. It sounds somehow less ominous than 'finances'. Actually, it works with pretty much anything when you think about it. What sounds nicer? Murder? Or Murderoo? Murder: Bad news. Murderoo: Happy Fun Time. Think about it. Anyways, about the financeroos... let's just say that we won't be moving anytime soon and just leave it that.
Anyways, hope you have a nice evening and weekend. Thank you for your readership and your well wishes during this time of sadness for me and my family. There are good days and there are bad. Dreams of the farm shall pull us through the bad.

Good bye my Friend

It's just.
A dog.
Its just a dogitsjustadogitsjustadogitsjustadog.........
Perhaps if I keep repeating that mantra over and over to myself I will believe it. I'm really not looking forward to tomorrow. I will surrender my dog. Mans best friend. I love that little dog, even though I realize that he's a bit of a slow learner. But lots of people are slow learners, and we don't just get rid of them, do we? He's a slow learner so lets just move him out to a farm where he can run around all day and chase geese? No. It would be inhumane. And yet, that's what my husband is making me do with my little Baxter. So I'm not happy on that front.
Secondly, on the daycare scene, things are not going well, either. My husband and I had two interviews yesterday, both of them did not go well. The first one seemed totally disinterested in Payton. Didn't talk to her or say hello. Just totally ignored her. And when we asked why she wanted to do daycare she said so she could spend more time with her two year old daughter. And I didn't really think that was a good answer. It's all about your own kid? Most people will cite a love of children in general. So that was out. The second woman was much more enthusiastic and you could see that she did love children, she was playing with Payton and Payton seemed to take to her. The only thing was that it seemed like a poverty situation. Dirty carpets, old concrete basement, a front door that was hanging on by the thinnest thread, no AC- 200 degrees in the house. And to make it worse, halfway through the interview her friends starting showing up. She was going out to the bar so they were getting ready. I was like 'well, we'll call you..." NOT. And her literacy level was a bit scary. I mean the 'contract' that she showed us was written on a piece of scrap paper and letters and words had been scratched out. I was like 'if you're going to be starting up a business, you think you would be able to buy a pack of real paper at Wal Mart for three dollars.' Honestly. So now we are back at square one.
Other than that: things are going pretty OK. I have a summer of deadlines ahead of me. First of all- I want to get pregnant this summer. I figure if it doesn't happen by the end of summer we won't try anymore because I don't want to be trying until Gage is thirteen. We have to call it quits at some point. And I also want to finish my book this summer. I'm almost at the halfway point now, so it will be a lot of work to finish it in three months, but I really want to hurry up and finish it. Perhaps someday I'll be able to quit my day job. It's all a pipe dream I know. But when I do quit my day job I shall buy my dog Baxter back and spend my days with him. I'm really going to miss that stupid dog. It's so dumb, because I keep telling myself, there are worse things in life. A fellow I work with just lost his mother. And here I am feeling sorry for myself because of a stupid dog. And it's not like he's dying- I'll still be able to see him sometimes. It's pathetic, I know.
Lastly, I would like to print a retraction. When I announced the contest winner I put Nikki R., but in fact, that should read Nikki S. So sorry for the confusion. Well, have a happy weekend. Hopefully it will be happier than mine. I may slit my wrists. So if I do... I guess we won't be seeing each other. But just remember the good times.

A time for change

Well, the Beatles said it right- there is a season for everything- a time to give up, a time to let go. And so it is for me that I will be giving up my dog, Baxter Brown. Things have been difficult with him. He's had a particularly stormy relationship with Geoff. And now we have to face the fact that we don't have the time to properly train this dog. This dog who I am still making monthly payments on...
But, I guess money isn't everything. So the dog will be moving to a farm, to live a life free of kennels and being locked in the bathroom. I think it will be good for him. And since it is my aunt and uncles farm, I know that I will be able to see him still, which will be good for me. I will miss him. But my husband has reminded me of the fact that perhaps within the next year or so we will have an even cuter bundle to bring home and lavish our attention on. And maybe, with a little luck, it won't chew the furniture apart or dig holes under the fence to escape.
I'm also expeciencing another change, which has been stressful unto itself. I am trying to find a new daycare for my Payton. Our day care provider is calling it quits, mainly because she wasn't making enough money for it to be worthwhile. So now I'm trying to find someone else. It's hard because who will give them the love that they get from a parent? No one. My current childcare worker has a bond with Payton, and it's hard to start over with a stranger. I sometimes regret having to work, but I know that the reality is that we have little choice. Without my income we could well end up living in a van down by the river. Although, I guess that could be OK, we could fix it up a bit. Maybe some needlepoint on the seats. A few doilies and a welcome mat.
Lastly, I would like to report on some preliminary name preferences. It's obviously early to be picking names, but it's still fun. So last night I dusted off the jacket of good old "Cool names for babies". I would choose the name Harper or Lacey. But Geoff doesn't like it. But it was so cute because he actually has a name chosen himself, before he even looked at the book, which surprised me because who knew that he thought up baby names? The name itself is not at the top of my list- Courtney- but I didn't dismiss it right away because I like the fact that he chose it himself. Perhaps it will grow on me. There are early days yet. Well, I have to go. Have a good night.

Be careful what you wish for.

First of all, just let me say, that the topic I'm going to be discussing is not for every reader (Joe- this means). So you will have to decide if you want to carry on reading or not. I will give you a moment to decide.

... Okay. For those of you who have decided to stay with me, you will know that for the last two months I have been fretting over not getting my period. And so my doctor gave me some crazy pills to induce one. They are tiny pills. Tiny but deadly. It doesn't seem possible that two little wee pills could wreak so much havoc. Its a very strange phenomenon, but believe me, very real. Yesterday morning I stumbled into the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood behind me. And from then on out, it only got worse. I was wearing a tampon and a pad and changing both every twenty to thirty minutes. The cramps were wicked. I took a thousand miligrams of Tylenol and 800mg of Motrin, and only then did I feel a little better. It was brutal. Things are getting a bit better now, but it has been a rough couple of days. I guess that's why they say 'be careful what you wish for'. Because when you think about it- it doesn't really make much sense 'be careful what you wish for'- because a wish is, by it's very nature, something which one desires, or otherwise possessing some desirable quality. But now I know better. Next time I won't be so keen on getting my period. Although, I suppose, the longer I would have waited the wore it would have been. I shudder at the thought. But here's another example of the 'be careful what you wish for' theme.
Baxter Brown. My little dog with such a lovable face. I saw that dog in Petland and fell instantly in love. Oh, how I wished for that dog. I wished and wished and wished until finally my husband got sick of listening to me an conformed to my wish. And now we have a dog. I love him. But Geoff hates him. And he wants him out. And I can't even really say that I blame him. If I were to honestly appraise the situation from an objective perspective- the dog is not going so good. I bought him on a whim and have never really had the time to train him. I don' know. I can hardly bear the thought of parting with him, but I know that the dog is difficult to live with. He's not house trained. He's chewed up our leather couch. He runs away and doesn't come back when you call him. In essence, he's bad. And that's probably 100% my fault because I just don't have the time to really train him. But now what am I to do?
Onto the last item of business. Contest winners. I shall be sending out the prizes this week. For those of you who didn't win, I don't want to pour salt on the wounds but I do want to say that the prizes are excellent.
1st Place: Stationary and ballpoint pen
2nd Place: "#1 Dog" Fridge Magnet/Grocery pad
3rd Place: "Kathy" cartoon fridge magnet which will surely give you a hearty chuckle every time you open the fridge for many years to come. So you can expect those packages to arrive fairly soon.
Thats it for now. Have a good night.

Here we go again.

Here we go again.

The title of my blog. It has given me pause to reflect because my original purpose in doing this blog was to chronicle "my fifth and final" pregnancy. As you know, my fifth pregnancy has come and gone- rather in the blink of an eye. In fact, my fifth pregnancy encompassed ten posts on this blog, which now has over a hundred. So it would seem that my original reason for the blog ceases to exist. So now I am changing the focus.
I am instead going to chronicle my sixth and final pregnancy. Surprise. You heard it here first. And when I say final, I mean FINAL. This time for sure, no ands, ifs or buts. Though it's hard to anticipate how one might feel when the situation actually comes, I think I can say with a fair amount of certainty that this will really be it for me and my old uterus. Hopefully, she can still pump one out. She's let me down before, but I still continue to believe her fundamentally capable of rising to the challenge.
Life is interesting. I guess that's something of an understatement, but really, it is. I commented on here before about how life pushes and pulls us along, forcing us to go places we never considered. And such it is again. After losing my last pregnancy, I was pretty much certain that I wouldn't want to try again. I thought 'too much stress', 'too much worry'. Why push our luck when we already have two great children? A boy and a girl, who could really ask for anything more? And though that logic is sound, I guess with the passage of time, that little voice is getting quieter now. And the part of me that still yearns to feel life within me is still there. As I watch my little girl grow, I experience simultaneous joy and sadness. Its incredible to see your baby grow and develop into a special and unique being. But it is a little sad, because when I look at her I no longer see that little baby that I once nursed to sleep. And so it was that on Thursday of last week, my husband and I had a rather long, shall we say, discussion, about this possibility. My husband was hesitant, just in light of everything that has happened. But I was like "so what?" Maybe we have had a bad run of luck, but that is all it is. Bad luck. And I don't think that we can really live our lives with a black cloud hanging over our head "what if...". Because, so far as I can tell, we are all mortal, and therfore anything could happen to any one of us at any point. I could get hit by a car tomorrow and die. He could be stricken with a horrible ailment. Our house could burn to the ground. We are not invincible. The ties that bind us to this earth are, in reality, remarkably fragile. And who among us knows when our string is going to snap? But can we really live our lives always fearing the worst? I think we need to do precisely the opposite. Live our lives believing the best, because any given day could be our last. So we need to fill our lives as much as we can, not fearing death, but embracing life.
I think I missed my calling as a Methodist Minister. But really, it's true. And if and when I get pregnant again, I will fear not the end of it but just enjoy the experience, whatever it yeilds. Because I don't regret the pregnancies I lost. Some our greatest growing, both individually and as a family, happens during those dark hours. And like I told Geoff: even if we have another miscarriage- we get free muffins at the hospital, which is pretty good when you think about it. Of course they were bran, and I don't like bran all that much, but I guess it's good for regularity. See- there's an upside to everything. Well, that is all for now. I shall write more about this issue at a later date.

Highly anticipated contest announcement

So here it is, the second of July. First and foremost, we celebrate our great country on this most spectacular long weekend. And secondly, we must close the comment contest, which recieved many entries. So without further ado, I give you the winners:

1st Place: Nikki R.
2nd Place: Lorrie S.
3rd Place: Nikki R.

You have 24 hours to email me your mailing adresses, otherwise your prize will be forfieted. I am not going to post what you have won, as I think it will detract from the surprise element. And also (and most importantly), I haven't gotten said prizes yet so I'm not really sure what they will be. Congragulations to all who participated!! And don't be discouraged: perhaps there will be more contests to come.
There is much to write as I have just returned from my holidays, but I will have to write later as I would prefer to go for a walk now.

I'm not instutionalized... yet.

Back from the doc, released into the community despite my mental health issues. Anways, according to her, it is basically normal to not get your period following a miscarriage- though this has never been my experience. Both of the other times I got it literally a month later to the day, which was something of a frustration to me because it was like "sheesh, don't you take a break?" (that was the voice of my internal voice to my uterus, with whom I frequently engage in long and engaging discourse). Anyways, she gave me this medication that I'm supposed to take until I start bleeding. So that should be fun. Exciting weekend ahead.

So that is that. Now let me see. Nothing else really new. Tomorrow is the last day of school for my little man, Gage. I think that he is excited by this prospect. Next year will be grade four, which is hard to believe because it seems like just yesterday we were welcoming our little chap to the world. Now here is is- reciting to me a list of words that contain the word "but" and laughing hysterically after each one. Charming. Another ten years and perhaps he will be normal. But I almost prefer the 'but' talk to the wrestling stuff. There is a picture of the little bugger in the top left for your enjoyment. Also in the picture: Payton- who so far seems to be the cuter of the two.

Thanks for your readership. Have a nice evening.

Having Grace (Rated G)

The Other Moment of Truth
-8-

One week later and I’m sitting in an ultrasound room with Cynthia and Horrace, waiting for the other moment of truth: whether there’s one, two, three or four Jacobson babies swimming in my stomach.
A jolt of alarm shoots through me when they tell me that I need to undress from the waist down. I thought this was a simple ultrasound. A squirt of jelly on my belly and that’s it. I give Cynthia a puzzled look, and she shoots me with a look of silent reprimand, motioning for me to hurry up and undress. Horrace turns his back to the wall and hums a little tune to himself.
I undress myself while trying to remain hunched over enough to cover my crotch. This proves difficult, and I struggle for a moment. Cynthia rolls her eyes as she passes me the paper towel/drape to cover myself with and I hop up on the table. Once back up on the table I’m feeling much more relaxed.
Which proves very short lived. A moment later the ultrasound technician comes back in the room and tells me to put my feet in the stirrups. Horrace looks distinctly uncomfortable, and (bless him) he tries to focus his eyes on the poster behind me. Unfortunately, it happens to be a huge glossy poster of female anatomy. He looks a bit blanched. I look at Cynthia but she offers me no comfort, just another look of annoyance. I put my feet in the stirrups. The technician inserts the probe and I’m almost ready to bolt. How humiliating. It’s like I’m a cow being poked and prodded. Or a subject in a series of weird experiments.
But then I glance on the screen and see it: a little squiggle.
“It appears to be a single, live, embryo,” the technician says in a bland voice. “Can you see the heart beating?” he asks. And I can! There’s a little flashing thing in the middle of the little squiggle.
Horrace draws Cynthia into an embrace. I look at them briefly, but they are riveted to the screen. I feel like an intruder in their private moment.

When I go home later I pull out my picture of the ‘cytes. And even though I’m truly glad that there’s only one left, a part of me can’t help but wonder: what became of the other three? I look at the ‘cytes and then think about the ultrasound this morning. It was remarkable how things have already changes so much. What was just a miniscule grey bleb three weeks ago now has a heart that beats. I reflect on this for a moment before sleep pulls at me.

My lucky day (Rated G)

I had a lucky day today. I went to Superstore after work and you will not believe what happened. I went to get a cart and guess what?? There was already a loonie in it! I was a little nervous that someone else was going to start chasing me through the parking lot "That's my cart!" "That's my loonie". So I scanned all around me first, and then took the cart off, wondering how it came to be that someone forgot thier loonie in there. But then I realized- it was probably me the last time I was there! I can be pretty dense sometimes. And then, to top it off, I was short a few bags when bagging my groceries, and then Nikki showed up. She's high up in the Superstore chain, doesn't work the registers just walks around with a clipboard looking like she means business. Suddenly I had extra bags materializing left right and center- FREE of charge. It pays to have connections. Those bags are like three cents each and I got about four for free. So when I do the math, I saved about $1.12 today. And that's without factoring in the interest that will acrue on that money over the years. How lucky is that!!
Other than that, not much new with me. Just want to say that the contest is off to a good start. There is now a bowl beside my computer which currently holds three names- two of which are Niks. Lorrie- three of your comments have been stricken due to lack of content. Actually, two of them have been stricken for lack of content and one of them for content not to my own liking. As administator of this blog I reserve the right to remove, edit change and strike comments at my will.
So that is all for now. Hope you have a good night. TTFN. Keep in mind that there is only twelve more days to get your comments in.

Ready, set, comment (Rated G)

Hello dear readers.
I am posting this entry with a heavy heart. I have noticed a disturbing trend on this blog. It has been a persistent problem ever since I began this, but it has become much more pronounced recently with the loss of my most loyal reader, my mother. (She's not dead- just moved up north where theres no internet connections). The problem is that I am recieving little to no feedback from my audience. I presume that there are readers out there because I see people out in public and they say 'oh, yeah- I read that on your blog'. And yet- where are you?? No comments. This blog is a two way street. The more feedback I get the more interesting it is for all of us. I can't do it on my own, people. Welcome to my world: Frustrationville, Tenessee, Population: myself and the nine of you who (supposedly) read this blog. Now I understand that you are all busy. But such is life. We all get busy. Cry me a river. I have two freaking kids, two dogs, a cat, a husband who seems to be allergic to housework, a full time job and am writing a book in my spare time. And yet- I find the time to maintain this blog. To keep it real with my fans. So suck it up and leave a comment or two here or there. That's all I ask. And it's not so much. Really.
So in order to entice people to be more liberal with their comments, I've decided to add an incentive. Anyone who enters a comment will get thier name entered into a draw. The more you comment the more your chances of winning. I will not say what the prize is, but believe me you, you will want it. Three winners will be selected from the entries on June 30th 2007. The winners will be notified on the blog. They will have twenty four hours to email me thier mailing adress so that their prize can be mailed, otherwise another name will be selected.
The contest is officially open.
Ready, set, comment.

To wax or not to wax... (rated PG13)

Life is full of choices, of oppurtunity. Every day we are presented with new choices--- new paths that we are forced to choose between. And the question is: when oppurtunity comes knocking on your door, will you answer it?? Last night I was presented with a new choice to make, and it is a difficult one because of it's rather sensitive nature.
My husband, Geoff, thinks I should "take one for the team" (as he says) and get waxed, and I dare say that he's not talking about my mustache hair (not that I have any of that, anyways). His logic is this: thousands of girls do it so it can't really be too bad and 2) you already got a tatoo and if you can handle that you can handle this. That tat is proving to be my undoing. So now I'm rather torn on the issue (pardon the pun). I'm intrigued by the idea but also scared of the pain that could be involved. I simply couldn't imagine it being anything less than excruciating. Geoff is inclined to disagree- but it's not his you-know-what on the line so what does he know? I pointed out- remember that scene in 40 year old virgin?? And he's like 'that's different- that's chest hair'. And I was like 'yeah, because everyone knows that chest hair is far more sensitive than pubic hair." Honestly. Men sometimes. Anyways, if anyone has any advice on this issue- or better yet- personal experience, please let me know.
Now, having that rather, shall we say, 'prickly' issue out of the way, there are a few other things to discuss. Last night I attendend a 50th birthday party for my aunty Gail, which was well attended and lots of fun. I got to see some dear old friends- and I shall post pictures as they become available (Jody, this means you.) I would also like to take the time to give a shout out to my new reader- Joe St.Denis (Picture posted above. Also in the pic- myself and my dear cousin Jenna). I apologize if this content offends you. You are the only guy reading so are the minority. But this blog is no-content-barred so read at your own expense. For your sake I have implemented a new rating system which will alert the reader if there is any questionable content. So you will see that todays blog is rated PG13. Hope this helps. Also would like to welcome my other new reader, Jackie Care AKA- the girl in the short dress. She brought up an issue that I would like to adress. The pages that are on this blog that are called "Having Grace" are pages from a book that I am deep in the midst of writing, as one may guess that writing is a passion of mine. So for new readers, you may be wise to go back to the beginning of the book and start from there. I think it starts in February or something. Anyways, just wanted to clear up any confusion.

Trouble in paradise

Let me pose a question to you: Is it fair to leave a dog in a kennel all day and all night?? I should think that the answer to the question is a fairly obvious NO. And yet, here I am, arguing with my husband about an issue that should go without saying. He wants to lock my dog, my baby, Baxter Brown, in a kennel all day and all night- only letting him out for bathroom breaks, just because of a few bathroom mishaps, which, in all fairness, could happen to any of us. I refuse to do it. I love that little dog and I won't do it to him. I told Geoff that the dog and I are a package deal so if he doesn't want the dog, then he doesn't want me.
I may well be out of a home. Anyone have a spare room big enough for me, two dogs, two kids and a cat??
Onto other matters. Life is resuming quite nicely after my little interlude in Regina. I am enjoying being back at home in the hood. I have had my windows smashed twice already so that is pretty much how I know I am really home. God love those crazy kids these days.
Speaking of crazy kids: I still haven't had my period. I'm getting a little crazy myself. I am sure that I'm not pregnant, but yet... what the hell?? It's been seven weeks and still nothing. I don't know. I did a preg. test today but it was negative, but then again my urine was dilute like tap water and I don't completely trust the result. Anyways, I just wish my period would come and I could stop worrying. Not that I'm really worried. If I'm pregnant then thats OK. I mean, babies are pretty cute. You should my nephew Greyson. He's totally awesomely cute. He has the best hair and the most perfectest round face.
Now I know what you're thinking. 'Perfectest' isn't a word. I know that but I like to make up new words sometimes just for kicks. I fear that my brain my be heading south like my breasts. Actually, forget that. We all know I have no breasts. But thats OK. I'm good enough, smart enought and dog gone it, people like me (Stuart Smalley, 1994).
Well, have a nice evening and please comment on the kennel issue.

Having Grace

I couldn’t go back to the office. I told the girls I was still feeling a little off and left a couple hours early. It was not a lie. I was feeling a little off. I was feeling a lot off, truth be told. So many emotions were swirling around. I was happy. This was good. If everything went well, I would walk away from this with six figures in my bank account and perhaps a shot as CEO. But mixed in with the happiness was a little bit of fear. It was more of an emulsion than a mixture. The happiness was on the bottom, but there was a thin layer of fear skimming the surface. What did the next nine months have in store for me? How would I explain this to my family? To my coworkers? What was it going to be like as the months advanced and my stomach grew? Would I grow to care for the baby? Would I be sad to give it up? Or would I just be relieved to put the whole ordeal behind me?
I tried to walk off my angst, but the more I walked the more anxious I became. What if I let them down? What if I lost the baby? Horrace looked so happy. That look in his eyes will haunt me forever if this doesn’t work out.
It didn’t help that I couldn’t talk about this with anyone. That would have to change. The moment of truth was upon me. I had to begin telling my friends and families.

---

I met my mom and sister that evening for dinner. It seemed easier to tell them both at once. I had thought that I would be able to ease into the subject, but straightaway it seemed I had some explaining to do.
“Where have you been hiding?” Mom asked as soon as I sat down. “I was getting so worried about you. I didn’t know if you were having some sort of a breakdown or what. I was just about going mad. I was going to break down you door and find out what was going on.”
“Sorry. I’ve been under the weather,” I replied glibly. I didn’t want to spill it all right off the bat, and then have to sit through a meal of awkward, strained conversation.
“Under the weather?” Mom asked, raising her eyebrows. It was evident she didn’t believe me.
“Come on, spill it,” Erin probed. “It’s a new man, isn’t it?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling mischievously.
“I wish,” I muttered, perusing the menu.
“Shall we order a bottle of wine?” Mom asked.
“Uh, none for me, thanks, but you two go ahead,” I replied, after a moments hesitation.
Mom raised her eyes at me again. “Kris, are you still under the weather?”
“No, I just have an early morning tomorrow.”
“But surely a glass of wine can’t hurt,” mom persisted.
“Well…” I began. Perhaps I should just take the wine and pretend to drink it.
“You don’t look well. You look flushed,” Erin said.
“I told you I’m fine,” I countered in a defensive tone.
Mom and Erin exchanged glances but let the matter drop. The waitress came around to take our drink orders. I ordered a decaf tea. This caused more raised eyebrows.
“All right,” I begin. “I was going to try to ease into this, but it seems there’s no way that’s going to happen. I have some news.” I say. They continue to look at me, but I cannot go on. How to break it to them?
“I knew there was a new man!” Erin says.
“No, it’s not a man. It’s an arrangement. Nothing more and nothing less,” I begin tentatively.
“What you mean like you’re shacking up with someone so he can get his Green Card?” Erin asks. Obviously she watches too much TV. Way too much.
“No. Green Cards are in the States, anyways. It’s like this. My boss, Cynthia,”
“The dragon lady,” Erin interjects.
“Yes, the dragon lady. She’s been having a lot of problems, personal problems. So I’ve decided to help her out.”
“Oh, that’s sweet, dear,” mom says.
“Well, yeah, okay,” I say, not comfortable with being glorified, after all I’m not really interested in ‘helping her out’. Money is my main motivation. The tea comes and I take a long swallow, even though it’s still very hot and burns a bit as it goes down.
“Well, what are you doing? Helping her with budgeting?” she asked. “You were always so good with money. My little accountant,” she said, a proud smile coming over her.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m helping her with her budgeting. She’s got terrible spending habits. Gucci suits, Louis Vuiton… whatever he sells. You name it, she’s got it” I say, because I simply didn't know how to break it to her.
I’ll tell her next time, I promise myself.
“Good for you. Some people, the way they spend. Hundreds of dollars for a simple pair of shoes. I’ll never understand it. Pure foolishness” mom said.
“Yah, I know,” I nod along.
We order our food and things start to feel normal again. Almost.
“Hey, what was your big news?” Mom asked, suddenly remembering.
“Oh, oh… nothing really. My apartment might be going rent control, so… that should be good.”
They look at me quizzically.
“You really need to get out more,” Erin jokes.
But somehow I doubted that would be happening.

Lessons Learned on the Weekend

I spent this weekend in Regina on a little getaway. These are the lessons I learned.

Lessons from Gail
-In a pinch, one can use the handle off a dresser as a bottle opener (That one will really serve me well.)
-In a pinch, one can use an empty beer box as a cooler. A little ice is all you need.
-You've got to spend money to make money
-Two words: MAX BET

Lessons Learned from Jen
-You DON'T need to order forks with your meal when you phone for take out.

Lessons Learned from Jackie:
-Do your Kegels!!!!! (I'm doing them now!)

Lessons Learned from Kim:
-We're worth $26!!
-Be leary of things in pretty bottles
-Look out for the highbars and hooks in bathroom stalls
-Its not a good idea to cheat (or was it her husband that cheated?? I'm still confused)
-Faux leather? FUN leather!
-Packing is a cinch-- just keep wearing the same clothes

These are the main lessons I learned. If anyone who was on the trip has anything to add, please feel free to write them in the comment section. Needless to say, it was a good trip and I had a lot of fun. Being at home is good but freedom is gooder. That's how many brain cells I killed in just forty eight hours. Scary. Anways, as I was saying, it was good to be home, escpecially to see my husband. I've said it before and I won't hesitate to say it again: absence really does make the heart grow fonder. We did it twice yesterday. Twice! We haven't done it twice in one night since Y2K, since my husband, now approaching forty, normally requires a twenty four hour turnaround period. Anyways, it was awesome, and if we broke the shower curtains, well, I guess they can be replaced.
Anyways, onto other issues. There are two things to report on. One: I'm an aunty to a super awesome little baby named Greyson Cole. He's really, REALLY cute. I like him a lot and am so glad he's here, safe and sound. Now I can't remember what the other thing was. Hmm. Well, perhaps it will come to me later. In the meantime I will post another page out of my book for your reading pleasure.
Peace out.

Possibility Downgraded

Well the possibility that I could be pregnant has been downgraded to impossible. I still have not recieved any news from down yonder, but my blood test came back El Negatorio (that is precisely the medical term for it.) So I guess my body is just out of whach and that is OK. But I realized something this morning when I saw those results in my mailbox. Instead of feeling a spark of releif, it was a twinge of regret that came over me when I looked at the report. I guess, deep down inside I had been hoping for a different result. So I have booked an appointment with my doc on the 26th to see if:
A) She would advise me to keep trying or not in light of all these things that have happened
B) If there is something that I can give my husband to make him want to have another baby, some kind of a hypnotic agent that I can give to him while he sleeps.

In her wisdom, I expect that she will say:
A) That only I can reach a decision of that nature,
B) The only thing she can recommend is open communication
To which I will say: open communication?? I think hynotic agents will be much easier.
Because my husband is quite determined that he doesn't want to have another baby, which I can see where he's coming from. I mean I could always force him into it "My way or the highway" buddy, but I'd rather that it doesn't come to that. We are married, and it is supposed to be a partnership of mutual love and respect.
In theory.
Well, I guess that is all for now. I will let you know how things progress this week on the husband front. I shall keep trying to slowly work at him until he finally relents and lets me have my way- just like he did when we got Baxter. At first he was adamant that he didn't want another dog. And now guess who sleeps at the foot of our bed?? Our new puppy.

Update

My condition seems to be stabilizing, though it was a long and difficult night. The fever seems to have broken, and I believe the mustard poulitices are working well, though I am forced to sleep wrapped in Saraan wrap to deter the dogs from chewing me, and the house smells like mustard something fierce. But the important thing is- I think I am going to pull through this. I'm really weak from the dehydration, am trying to drink more fluids but it's even hard to sit up. My dogs have been my ever watchful campanions, and I know that I will not slip off into a coma (or worse) with them beside me, as they will bay and whine until they bring me around.
I am going to post a link to the public health website on sun exposure. Forewarned is forearmed, and hopefully people will be able to learn from my example. If I can save even one person from this terrible fate I will at least know that I have not suffered in vain.

http://www.weather.com/activities/health/skin/sunsafety/tips.html
After reading this article, I realized that I did everything wrong. I can I can only blame myself for this calamity.

More book

When I went home that night, I took out my picture of the blastocytes, which I had affectionately nicknamed ‘the ‘cytes’. They were just a clump of little blebs. And yet, they were something more. And I wondered what it would be like if it actually came down to actually ‘reducing’ the number. How would we choose between A,B,C and D? Or more precisely, how would they choose? It seemed so backwards, so wasteful, to go through so much to create life only to turn around and terminate it. Though I suppose ‘reduce’ is the more polite term for it. I wondered what this child’s life would be like with Cynthia as his/her mom. It would probably be boarding schools and nannies and non fat ice cream. A part of me actually hoped that the baby wouldn’t be an only child. Otherwise it seemed apparent that its life would be lonely. I lay awake for a long time before I finally fell asleep that night, my mind very troubled.

The Moment of Truth
-7-

The bad thing about waiting to find out if you’re pregnant or not is that everything suddenly becomes construed as a possible symptom of pregnancy. For example, yesterday morning I went to the bathroom three times. And then I thought “I must be pregnant”. But then I remembered that I had two glasses of water and two cups of decaf tea. And then at lunch, Constance heated up her curry, and the smell was just bloody awful. I honestly thought for a minute that I might be sick. But then I realized that I never really did care for the smell of it. Perhaps it had always been like this but I never really noticed. All afternoon my breasts ached. I alternated between thinking that I was pregnant and that I was simply premenstrual. Honestly, it was to the point where I began to think I was obsessive.
So while we waited for the results I, myself, was quite relieved that I was getting an answer. Whatever it was I would deal with it. Cynthia, however, did not seem so relieved. She was anxious, chain smoking in her office. At lunch time she stepped out and went to have a manicure. She said she needed to ‘decompress’. I guess she’d gotten compressed again since coming home from France. One wouldn’t expect a person to compress that quickly, but I guess in Cynthia’s case it happens rather fast. Especially in light of all the stress of the pregnancy test, although she wasn’t the one with the bruise on her arm from the lab tech who seemed like she was still in training and battling Parkinsons at the same time. I’m the one who needs to decompress, I thought. At least she can drink coffee. Although, to be honest, I have on a few occasions snuck one when she was out on business. I really don’t see what harm a little caffeine could do. And besides, what is she going to do? Test my urine?
Oh shit. I never thought of that. What if she does test my urine? Can they do tests for that? I’ll have to find out. I add ‘find out if they can test urine for caffiene’ to my ‘to do’ list. I momentarily feel better. But then I start to worry that she’ll come across the list and find out that I’ve been drinking coffee. So I shred the piece of paper up into tiny bits. My coworker glance at me strangely, but say nothing.
As the day dragged slowly on, my calm resolve began to crack. I was checking the clock every five minutes. In some cases three. Walking around aimlessly, too agitated to sit at my desk. It was driving me crazy. How long could it take to do a simple pregnancy test? This wasn’t like a jury deliberation where 12 lab techs sequester themselves in a room and debate the facts. "The blood evidence is quite clear, but everything else is purely circumstancial." It was a simple plus or minus sign. What was the hold up?
Constance was worried about me. I heard her muttering to Nancy that I still wasn’t quite right ever since my bout with the bird flu. I simply pretended not to hear that. And then I saw Horrace coming down the hall.
Carrying a bouquet of yellow roses. But even without the flowers, the expression on his face said it all. He was walking with a big, stupid grin. My heart began to beat faster as he drew closer. I couldn’t believe it. I walked out of the office and met him in the corridor, not wanting my coworkers to hear the exchange. He drew me into a tight embrace.
“Thank you so much,” he said, and I wondered if he was actually crying.
“I take it the test was positive?” I asked, bewildered by the outpouring of emotion.
“Of course,” he says with a puzzled expression. “We got the news hours ago. I just wanted to thank you personally.” He shoved the roses into my arms. “I have to go. Cynthia’s waiting on me for celebratory drinks, but I wanted to thank you personally.”
And he was gone.