ups and downs

(via +yooco+)

I'm still floating around in limbo. waiting.

I'd managed to remain a bit less detached during the past few cycles. Ever since that damned double yolk egg, I wised up to the fact that I need to guard against *foolish* optimism or risk that ruthless, stinging disappointment.

But, with this cycle's medical reinforcements, I've been forced to become more intimately aware of this process than ever before.

The good news is that it's DPO 12 and there's not been a hint of spotting. Nothing. At. All.

The bad news is that I tested on DPO 9 and 11 and both were negative.

Up and down.

Up and down.

beach bound

Zwei (via valériee)

My husband and I are nearly off to the beach for a weekend with friends. I was truly meant to live at the beach . someday . . .

In other news, to borrow a term from a blogger friend, Hillary, I am in the midst of Spotwatch 06.09.

So far, nothing. not even a tinge.

Perhaps those prometruim suppositories were just what was needed. Though, delayed spotting has fooled me before, so I'm hesitent to start feeling wildly optimistic just yet.

Maybe more desperately hopeful?

I'm hoping all of my dips into the ocean will adequately distract me over the next 48 hours.

Hair Trim or Hair Cut

Just so you're not left with the impression that all I ever do is sit around and ponder my fertility, here is a post dedicated to my hair. Specifically, what should I do about it currently unruly length? I tend to go to the salon only about twice a year.

I'm am toying with the idea of cutting off many inches. I can almost feel the freedom, the lightness, the change.

almost. then I remember how much I love long hair.

Here are some of the inspiration pictures that are tempting me towards a less is more approach with my mane

via (camp comfort: Tuesday, Hair Day)

Father's Day

picture by me

My mother and grandmother came into town this past weekend for my sister-in-law's baby shower. My little brother is expecting his first bundle at the end of the summer. Being nearly three years older than my brother and married for a year longer, I was expecting to have to field a lot of, "so, when are you and J going to start to have children . . ." but was relieved to completely avoid any such inquiries.

The shower, as far as showers go, was really quite nice. I was in charge of decorations and they turned out swimmingly (if I do say so myself), the food was delicious, the group of ladies were great.

Only a few times during the afternoon did I let my mind drift off to thinking about my own much less round belly. Mostly because L and I started this whole baby-making process around the same time. We talked about how much fun it would be to be pregnant together. How our little ones would be such close friends. Although it took L a few months to get pregnant, she did. And with each successive month , that hope of "sharing" a pregnancy became smaller and smaller. Though, I'm still going to believe that while they might be a little further apart in age, our children will have the closest of friendships.

Because my mother was in town, the evening before the shower, we went to church. The Catholic church in our neighborhood only had a noon mass, so we went to one just a little further away.

St. Ann's

This, according to my mother, was a good thing, because (I confirmed this by Wikipedia) St. Anne is the patroness saint for childless people. Apparently, according to the bible, Anne and her husband, after years of childlessness, were visited by an angel who told them that they would conceive a child and they did.

At one point during the mass, the priest said something to honor all of the Father's for Father's Day. I leaned over and whispered to my husband that I hoped so very much that he was a father on that day, that there was a little bean just beginning to grow. Seeing his face, acknowledging and so wanting for the same thing, my heart just about broke.

But, if I was right, well then maybe soon it can be swelling with joy.

distractions

I think it's stating the obvious to say that infertility can be expensive. Whether the choice is made to move forward with treatments or adoption, the costs can be fairly staggering.

What I didn't expect was the following:

As of late, I've observed that our failure to get knocked up is seemingly having a negative effect on my budgeting abilities. While I should be diligently saving for a whole host of worthier things, it seems that I've been nurturing a rather serious shopping habit over the last couple of months. Above is only a smattering of some of my indulgences. I'm not saying that they aren't lovely, but perhaps I need a new coping mechanism . . .

(via nicole hill)

It's been a little while since last I posted.

Life has been rolling along. We've had a pair of weekends spent at home, which with all the summertime travel was much appreciated. We were able to get in a mini-road trip (windows down of course), lots of ice cream (specifically, root beer floats), dinner with friends, dinner alone, crafting projects for an upcoming baby shower, homemade pizza, a couple of baseball games and the list goes on.

This weekend, we traveled up to my mother-in-law's for a visit. Unfortunately, due to some pesky allergies, I sneezed through the majority of it.

We've also had some more time to process the information from our last doctor's visit. I went to my local pharmacy and picked up the prescription for clomid. At that time, being on the fence about whether it was for me, I didn't know whether I was going to take it or not. However, with nothing to show from our previous efforts and feeling like the options are limited, I popped the little pills diligently for 5 days.

Now, I'm waiting.

and worrying (did I make the wrong choice? is this delaying ovulation? should we have just gone au natural one more month?)

Prior to this process, I was never really a worrier. Perhaps, this new injection of second-guessing and concern is just a realistic introduction to motherhood . . .