Long Time, No … Post.

I’m still here!  We’re still trying to reproduce.  And still failing miserably at it.

Cycle 6:  BFFN (Yes, there is an extra “F”.  Yes, it’s there purposely.  Yes, it’s a four lettered “F” word and it’s not “food”, “frig” or “fork”.)

I had a moment where I was sad about it.  But I didn’t have a lot of time to focus or cry about it because there was A LOT to do.  Cody and I are now officially moved into OUR house!  No more roommates!  No more sharing a kitchen!  No more yappy bastard white Maltese puppies!  I don’t think I have ever been so happy.  So between lawyer meetings, bank meetings, navigating through a literal flood (thanks, Mother Nature.  You have impeccable timing, as usual), and packing, I didn’t get to sit around and dwell on anything.

We moved into our house during a heat wave.  I am a whiner when it comes to heat and humidity – I hate summer and the people who say they “love” summer:  I think you’re a liar.  No one loves summer except at the beginning and the end of the season.  Right in the middle when it’s ridiculous hot and you’re sweating just by breathing – no one likes that.  Anyway – end rant. So we move into the house, it’s got no central air because we’re cheap bastards (and because we were supposed to move in at the end of August LAST YEAR and we were sure that we wouldn’t need it cause summer would be over-ish).  Our bed is still in storage and we’re sleeping on an air mattress and I somehow am still holding it together.  And then I get my period.  Still good… no crying, no hissy fits, no unreasonable anger or yelling even though I’m hot, tired, and unpregnant.  But then the night before my cycle day 3 appointment came and as usual, I lose my shit.  It’s the same thing as before, so I don’t really have to go over it all.  You know, I know, my husband and your partner(s) know.  It was bad.  But we made it through.

At the actual appointment, my doctor kind of railroaded through things.  She said that since we’d done 6 cycles of this, she wanted to move on to IUI.  I would take this medication, then that injectable, followed by this trigger shot and then insemination. 

woah.  Woah.  WOAH, lady!

Cody and I discussed it and we don’t want to move to IUI yet.  We can afford it – that’s not the issue.  We want to get settled into the house.  We want to work out, start cooking at home, and just enjoy each other for 5 minutes before moving on to an IUI.  Once the doctor took a breath, we told her this and she was good.  She thought it was fine to keep doing what we’re doing, she just didn’t want us to think that we were stuck doing the same thing over and over without getting results.  She said that the Femara/Ovidrel/Timed Intercourse thing should work – but the way this was said didn’t really give me a huge jolt of confidence.  I hope it works – of course.  I just don’t really know if it will or how often it even does work.  But we’ll see.

So that’s the update.  Which, really… isn’t very exciting.  Well, maybe the baby stuff is the same ole, same ole.  But, Cody and I own our second home!  And we did add a new addition to our family – a new cat 🙂  I’m happy, overall – which is exciting to me.

Stay happy and healthy, buddies!




“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next.



I’m not going to get all churchy or preachy on you guys today.  I only want to really focus on the first paragraph of the Serenity Prayer – especially since I didn’t even know that there was a second verse until today.

First off – all of these years I’ve repeated the first 3 lines of this prayer to myself, I was screwing it up.  I’ve always said “God, grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change”.  I don’t know why – I thought that it was “strength” and not “serenity”, for some reason and yet I still knew it was called the Serenity Prayer.  I guess I never really thought about it.  Anyway, all of these years asking for strength instead of serenity.  No wonder I’m a bag of nerves all of the time but manage to make it through month after month of treatments.  No wonder I don’t kill my husband when he’s mean to me (more on that later).  No wonder I keep on going even when I’m sure I can’t.  My God has been giving me the strength I’ve asked for.


We’re on our 6th month of trying Femara and Timed Intercourse.  It’s been a rough road, as you know.  And as I sat crying after each negative test, I’d vent to Cody with something like this:

“God doesn’t care about me.  He can see my crying.  He hears me praying for this one thing.  I never selfishly as for anything but he still doesn’t carry me along the beach, does he?  When is he going to see that I can’t handle this anymore?  He has to know how much I need this and he just doesn’t fucking care.  As far as I’m concerned, God is an asshole.”

Two things:  1.  Everytime I said something like this, I instantly regretted it and apologized to God.  Not because I thought that he’d make sure that I’d have at least another negative result, but because I really felt bad about saying it.  I just don’t think it’s nice to call anyone I love an “asshole”.  2.  Each time I vented like this to Cody, I didn’t take in to consideration that I might be offending him with my offensive comments.  I just wanted to say what I felt and basically didn’t stop and realize how this effected my husbands faith.

I found out last night.

We were sitting in Boston Pizza last night waiting for our food.  I absent mindedly touched the white gold cross I’ve been wearing since starting this cycle and mentioned to Cody how it’s been keeping me a little more grounded.  I told him that when I touch the cross, it reminds me to talk to God every once in a while and that I liked it.  He in turn responded with:

“Oh, ok – so we’re not going to blame God for sabotaging us this month then?”

Livid.  Hurt.  Disgusted.

Our waitress brought us our food just as he said that and I made the quick decision not to walk out on my husband, drive home and leave him to fend for himself.  I also made the decision not to yell at him.  I opted to eat in silence.  

Cody knew what he said was mean.  I managed to quietly explain why it was wrong for him to give a low blow like that.  My main reason being that he has no idea what type of relationship I have with God and doesn’t know how I repent for the things I say in anger.  There was a lot of other stuff there too – mostly things like it’s not fair for my husband to judge me and act like he’s above me.

Eventually I didn’t hate Cody anymore.  We went home, I was still a little pissed off, but able to work with him on moving on.  12 hours later, and I am able to see that I’m not the only one who gets hurt by my partners words.  Cody listened to me bad mouth God month after month. He didn’t know if I was silently taking back my nasty comments or begging for forgiveness while I laid in bed.  My faith was being tested each month – but so was Cody’s.  In my deluded, self righteous mind, I forgot that Cody is part of this too and while I was quick to lash out at everyone, he was sitting there comforting me and trying to keep his faith in tact. What a help I’ve been.

I’m such a jerk.  Leave it to me to be in the middle of tearing Cody a new one when I see my own downfalls as a wife.  I do, however, think that this is one of those things I’ll need the strength AND serenity to change.  Because I do have the wisdom to know that this is something I can (and should) change.