Resentment is an Ugly Thing to Swallow

And try as I might to not feel that way, sometimes it gets the better of me. I'm hoping that putting it out there, writing down, that hopefully I can then let it go.

So here goes:

I am resentful of pregnant women, especially if they are significantly younger than me. And most especially if they are so young that their pregnancies are unplanned.

I am resentful of a friend from work who sees and hears all the people selling raffle tickets, selling eggs, being supportive -- and who has yet to help in any way. She mentioned to me over a year ago, while I was still pursuing the fertility route but was more realistic about needing to go this way, that unless my adoption fund was associated with an actual 501c3 that she wouldn't be able to sell tickets for me. How could she ask her friends who didn't know me to spend money? How would they know it was legitimate?

Really? They know it's legit because you're asking. Or maybe your friends aren't as trusting of you as mine are of me. Because if the shoe was on the other foot, and I was selling for you, the mere fact that I was asking would be enough for my friends. If they could afford it, they would do it.

I am resentful that my colleague gets 12 weeks of maternity leave, just one year after coming back from another 12 weeks of maternity leave. That she has two perfect little babies -- and I started my whole process well before her.

And I am resentful (and really this one is for Bubbles, though I definitely feel this way) of bitches who treat their men like shit, who are awful awful people and I'm single!

It's day 12 of my new shortened 25-day cycle. I'm ovulating on my own. I'm in pain. I'm bloated, I'm uncomfortable. I've been awake since 4am. And on top of all of that, I fucked up my knee doing lunges at the gym. So much for working out.

All that is to say, I'm cranky. The resentment will be gone tomorrow. I actually already feel better by writing it down, admitting it publicly and moving on.

Tomorrow is another day.

"I'm Not Mad at You, I'm Mad at the Dirt."

One of my favorite lines from a movie (Mommie Dearest, 1981).

And that's the way I've been feeling lately. My friend at work has been on maternity leave since the middle of May, and won't be back until the end of August. I'm not mad at her, I'm mad at the situation.

Mad that I'm so fucking busy at work. Mad that I won't be able to take a real vacation until September.

I'm in meetings most of the day, which makes it really hard to get any work done when I'm not at my desk. So I either let it go until the next day (or the day after) when I have some time to actually work. Or I stay until 6:00, skipping the gym, and get shit done.

I've done both. Neither makes me happy. It makes me frustrated. It makes feel out of control.

Today, I was in meetings for four hours, tomorrow six. I left work at 4:15 anyway. Came home and went for a walk. And while I walking -- Rob Base and Katy Perry and Aerosmith and Michael Jackson on my iPod -- I didn't think about work. I didn't think about anything. And so for a little while, I was happy with the way things are currently happening.

And so as long I remember that I'm mad at the dirt, I won't get all Pepsi Board Room on anyone.

The Week that Was....

It started out shitty. I was an emotional wreck on Monday and Tuesday, literally crying for no reason a few times. I finally got my period on Wednesday, which helped my emotional stability slightly.

Wednesday night I slept awful. Itchy-twitchy legs all night as I tried to fall asleep (itchy-twitchy is my version of reckless leg syndrome). Thursday I left work early, drove to Syracuse to meet my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew for dinner and then my niece's high school graduation. And then turned right around and drove back home.

Friday I realized that I'm exhausted. Not just from the shitty week, the emotional week, the lack of sleep and driving 150 miles in four hours. But from work -- I've been doing two jobs since December and three since early May.

I was too tired to go to they gym tonight after church, but am hoping that blowing it off tonight, getting a good night's sleep and waiting until tomorrow will mean that I have lots of energy for the treadmill.

Added to all that is the fact that I still haven't heard from any of my siblings since I sent the email about my adoption nearly two weeks ago. Add insult to the fact that I went to dinner with two of the people who got the email, and saw another, on Thursday night. Not one word.

My mother became momma bear this morning and sent out an email to my siblings telling them I needed their support. We'll see how far that goes.

Cranky Ellie

I'm not sure why, but I woke up in a foul mood. My stomach hurts. I feel bloated. I'm tired. I feel fat. My period is a few days overdue. And at any moment I could literally burst into tears.

A nice day to stay in bed. Or least, hibernate in my office.

But unfortunately I am in a meeting from 8:30 to 1:00, and then meetings from 1:00 to 2:00 and 2:30 to 4:00.

Ugh....if I don't snap someone's neck or cry today, it will be a miracle.

I found out yesterday that, due to the policy change requiring two trips to Ethiopia, they have raised some rates. An additional $1,000 overall. But that's not really bothering me. At this point, what's an extra $1,000 when I'm paying $26,000?

It all seems so abstract to me -- having to have that much disposable money. It doesn't seem possible.

This Time Last Year

Happy birthday (almost) to me. I like to think of my birthday as my New Year's. It's a time to be reflective, it's a time to think about the last year, and a time to think about the coming year and all I want to accomplish.

Same as last year -- I've spent the past year focusing on trying to get pregnant. And same as last year -- I will spend the next year focusing on much of the same. Although the difference is, by the time my 40th birthday rolls around, I will know one way or another....I will have a baby of my own, or I will be working on adopting.

And by the time my 40th birthday rolls around (unless I've just given birth in the past few months), I want to be back in my skinny clothes. I want to get rid of this pudgy stomach and muffin top. I want to look the way I used to in a pair of jeans.

And I hope that by the time my 40th birthday rolls around, I will be happy turning 40, that I will accept 40 with grace, honor and happiness.

Having accomplished at least one of the goals above will go a long way in helping me meet 40 with these virtues.

I wrote that a year ago tonight. I do not have a baby of my own. I don't have that reflection I want when I'm wearing a pair of jeans. I still have the pudgy stomach and muffin top. But I do know that I'm adopting. I do know that in less than two years, I will have a baby.

I don't just know it in my heart, but I know it. I've got an expanding file folder of paperwork, bank statements and credit card receipts to remind me. I got my passport the other day and today I received my appointment notice with Homeland Security for finger printing.

And so on the eve of my 40th birthday, I can only look forward. I can't look back at what could have been. At what should have been. I remember what FG said at the one support group meeting I went to. "None of us is promised anything."

I will spend tomorrow evening with some of my best friends in town. And on Thursday, I will head to Baltimore for the weekend and some of my best friends ever. A high school friend. Museum friends. A Rochester friend. And Bubbles!

And on Monday, I start the new me. I start my "MILF training." :) I begin working out and watching everything I eat. And weighing myself and weighing my food. And watching out that I don't become the person I became four years on the inside, but working my ass off (literally) to become the person I became on the outside.

Happy birthday to me. I won't let 40 get me down. I will own it. I will embrace it. There are only good things to come.

The Week in Review

It's been a weird week. My emotions have been on a roller coaster, mostly down. I'm sad. That's really the only way to describe it. And I know that I will get over it eventually -- or at least, if not over it, it will become a little more bearable each day.

I started to think about my birthday and how I'm going to be 40 in a little over a month. Never in a million years did I think 40 would look like this. But here it is. Where a few weeks ago, I wasn't making any plans for 40, because I so thought I would be pregnant, now I have plans to make.

So I'm going to Baltimore the weekend after my birthday, for my usual round of visiting. And Bubbles is making all sorts of plans -- I just have to show up. A day at the spa, fancy dinner out. And lots of drinks. Finally, something to look forward to.

My friend at work (who has several children through foster care) told me about identical twin boys to be born this summer. The mother has four toddlers (4, 3, 2 and 13 months) -- all in foster care. DSS isn't sure what the plan is for the babies. As Charlie was telling me, the woman who has the other four kids can't take two more. And the mother, if she doesn't have her babies right from birth to bond with them, doesn't want them.

She wants her 4-, 3-, and 2-year olds back, but not the baby. Because he was taken away from her as soon as he was born. She doesn't feel a connection with him. She doesn't have any bond with him.

So I called DSS, one of the women who taught the classes I was in last spring, and left a message. It was very generic -- just that I wanted to touch base, let her know where things were in my life, etc. She passed me off to someone else, who specifically handles adoption.

And when the adoption guy and I finally connected, I asked very specific questions about this woman who is pregnant with twins and doesn't have custody of her other four children. I knew more about the situation than he did. He didn't have a whole lot to say. They're not sure of what the plan is when she gives birth, if the twins can't go with the other four, the goal is still family reunification, can I do that?

I was honest. I told him no. These women give birth to throw away children, I'm not going to help them get their kids back. But knowing a lot about the situation, knowing how she feels after giving birth and giving up immediate custody, I'm willing to take the chance that she would get her kids back. He appreciated my honesty, and of course because of the business he's in, he can't agree with me.

I understand the premise of DSS. I understand why we have Child Protective Services. I do. I get it. And I understand that people makes mistakes, that there are circumstances.

But in the case of the kids that Charlie has -- a 4-year-old and a 3-year-old who have been in Charlie's care for more than two and a half years; and their 2-year-old twin sisters who have been with Charlie all but six months of their lives. (not to mention the three teenagers she has lost permanent custody of and who live with their grandmother). And then this other case -- four toddlers and now soon-to-be-born twins. They've been in foster care since last January. The baby has never been in the custody of his mother.

It's a fucked up world we live in. I can't get pregnant, I can't have a child, and these women are getting pregnant more often than Michelle Duggar. Explain the logic. Explain the fairness.

And my frustration is more than at these women, it's at the system, as well. So my conversation with the adoption guy, after he said he would talk with the woman I had called in the first place, I asked what my next steps should be. "Will you call me after you talk to her? Will she call me? Or should I check in with you or her in, say two weeks?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He's not sure what the birth plan is for the twins. "Well, they're due to be born in June. And they're twins, so she may go early...." My voice was trailing off, because I needed to keep my composure, but when the fuck were they planning to figure it out. It's March.

"Yeah, I'm really not sure what to tell you. We'll keep in mind that you're interested in these boys, and add you to the list."

And so that's that? WTF? No wonder people have the opinion of DSS that they have. I know they are understaffed, underpaid, over burdened. But here I am, wanting to do something, to help two children.

It's a frustrating place to be, for sure.

And now the terror sets in

Okay, maybe terror is a little strong.

But with still some waiting time before my blood test, I'm starting to get scared. What will I do if it's negative? I don't know if they were able to freeze the other three embryos. And I kind of don't want to know until after the test. No need to add one more thing to my list of bad thoughts if they weren't.

Luckily I have an afternoon full of meetings today and through to blood test day. Hopefully that will keep my mind from wandering too far down a dark road.

I'll have a blue Christmas....

I thought about writing yesterday, but was in such a fowl mood I thought I would spare you all. It was raining. And cold. And dreary. I sat in the dark with nothing but the Christmas tree lights. And thought about how much I've really come to hate the holidays.

The preparing for them? Love! Shopping, buying presents for other people, wrapping them, decorating the tree, the Christmas specials on TV, baking cookies. Love all of that. And then when I do it, I start to think about who I'm not doing it for. Not doing it for my family. My own family. Not my husband or kids.

And then I start to feel sorry for myself. And I wonder when this joke that the universe is playing on me will end. I talked to Bubbles, who is in a similar boat, although at nine years younger, not quite as desperate as I am.

Somehow I'll make it through. I'll survive Christmas, this year with most of my family rather than the lovely say in pajamas I usually spend in Richmond. I'll survive New Year's Eve, mostly because it will just be nothing more than a Thursday to me. And six weeks later, I'll survive Valentine's Day.

But I shouldn't have to want to "just get through" the holidays. Should I? Am I missing something bigger? Something greater?

The Pill is the Culprit

I'm so glad that I'm neurotic (or anal?) to write everything down. I looked back at my posts the last time I was on the pill. Of course, when I first reread them, it was a good thing because I got pregnant on the cycle following being on the pill.

What I didn't notice was my mood while I was on the pill. I was miserable. And not sad for a little while, but several days on end, miserable. About a week into being on the pill, I was an emotional wreck. Every little thing bothered me.

Fast forward to this month. About a week into being on the pill, the same thing. Last time I was only on for two weeks, this time for three. Should make for fun times.

Cranky Monday

And I'm not sure why. I feel like crying. Or going back to sleep. When really what I want is to feel like working out.

I had a good weekend. I went to Syracuse and spent the night at my niece's. Yesterday was Andrew's 2nd birthday party.

I had been anxious about it earlier in the week, that my oldest sister would be there and I would have to hear about her daughter, who is due to give birth in the next two weeks. I think I've forgiven her insensitivity in how she told me she was pregnant, but I can't forget. And to hear people go on and on about it -- I wasn't in the mood. I found out Saturday night that she wouldn't be coming. She had to work all day on Saturday.

Maybe it was, not just being around little kids, but actually celebrating the anniversary of his birth. It could be that or it could be something totally unrelated. Like I'm just tired. Or my hormones are out of whack -- though I have been living with that for the past two years.

I feel like I did last summer when I thought an egg donor was my only option. My mind is swimming with all sorts of things and what if's. What if there is a better chance to get pregnant with an egg donor than with my own egg. Should I have just gone with an egg donor last summer, instead of wasting the time and money on trying to get pregnant on my own? Or should I have just given up and saved since last year and gone ahead with adoption? Should I try with an egg donor after my final IVF?

I don't know how productive of a day it will be at work today. I should have called in sick.

Heat

I saw Lucia last week for the first time in a month. We talked about E, Chris bring back via telephone, and how J somehow has this pull on me. And she asked me, "what do you want from these guys?"

"Well, I know that J or Chris can't give me a long-term relationship. E's life is complicated as he's going through a painful divorce with small children, so maybe somewhere down the road..."

"Don't tell me what they can't give you. You've known that all along. Tell me what you want from them?"

"Honestly? I want sex."

"You're in heat."

"Excuse me?"

And then she explained her theory. As the very basic level, our bodies are meant to make babies. And by making babies, we have sex. And to make it easier, each month as we get close to ovulation, we become a little more amorous, a little hornier, because that's when we're supposed to have sex to make babies.

My body has all the hormones for making babies. And has -- at all sorts of levels -- for the past two years. And I'm doing all of this with only occasional sex. I'm in heat.

I explained it to Hope the day we went to Syracuse together. She laughed and thought it made all the sense in the world. "Especially when you were getting ready to go meet E, and I was worried about you getting attached, and you said 'this is just about me having sex, nothing more, nothing less.'"

And so my mood has leveled out, more or less.

Theories

Over the past couple of weeks, both Nancy and Hope have been saying that there's something about me lately, something they can't put their finger on, an inner glow, a different kind of outward beauty. I do my best not to roll my eyes, and try to say thank you.

But sometimes I see it too. When I look in the mirror I see something different. Something I can't put my finger on. I'm not pregnant, and I haven't had sex in six months, so the glow can't be attributed to either of the usual suspects.

And then I think it clicked. Even though I've said this in the past, this is the first time I actually believe it. I'm not looking for a relationship. I just want to have fun, I want to work on the baby thing, and I am not looking for a relationship. At all.

And because of that, I wonder if the inner glow is more like inner peace. If the outward beauty is more like outward confidence.

i wish I felt that way about some of the bad boys I keep in my life. Which of course is all the reason to move on without them. But even with inner peace, even with outward confidence...I just can't.

Chris is familiar. J is exciting. E is downright dangerous.

I have however made some positive steps. Emailed a friend from Baltimore -- a single friend, who I flirted with and who flirted back at the Bash -- and asked if he was coming to Cooperstown anytime soon, to let me know. Working on getting to know one of the cops in public safety.

And so hopefully between Charlie and the cop, Chris and J and E will fade into the background, until all three of them are where Chris was a month ago. In a neat little box, carefully put away from my day-to-day life.

My Week Ended Better Than it Started

Despite the start of a cold (or allergies), I managed to work out every night this week, including kick ass workouts last night and tonight. I ran/walked three miles in 42 minutes last night, 39 tonight. The running, the sweating, the sucking oxygen were all exactly what I needed to get me out of this J funk.

And I saw Lucia on Wednesday night, for a little head shrinkage. She's great. She manages to make everything seem so simple and in a way that I should have realized it. When I gave her the fertility update (I hadn't seen her in about eight months), I told her basically when I was finally pregnant it made sense. This cruel joke that the universe has been playing on me, that I'm almost 40, single, childless, struggling to get pregnant -- it all suddenly didn't matter, it made sense, because I was pregnant. And then I wasn't. And now life and the universe don't make sense anymore. And her reply, "oh, okay, so you're going to take on the whole universe. I see."

Right, exactly. I need to be focused me and the things I can control. And then I need to focus on how to react to what I can't control.

And then I told her about J, the whole saga....ignoring his texts while I was pregnant, feeling strong keeping it platonic, and then weakness. Baltimore, the ultimatum, the photos from Taughannock Falls. And in her usual dry way, she reminded me what a master manipulator he is. And I was finally ready to close that chapter. I just hope I can stay strong months down the road when I forget how much this feeling sucks.

And so faithful readers, fear not....Ellie is on the mend. Physically...stronger than I've been in months. Emotionally...getting stronger every day.

I know what I need to focus on, I know what's important and what's not worth my effort, and I hope that by the time March rolls around next year, I'll be writing under my real name, posting pictures of my little bambino or bambina.

Cranky Wednesday

So on Friday, I got my test results. Negative. I stopped the shots, the pills and the suppositories -- all hormones cut off, and I expected that I would get my period on Sunday or Monday.

I cried a little over the weekend, had my usual mourning period, and then started to think about the next steps. It's a comfortable pattern I've established. And then Monday came and no period. By Tuesday morning, I started to have hopeful thoughts.

What if the test was wrong? What if it was a false negative? What if I'm really pregnant? I will wait to tell my parents at Thanksgiving. I can tell my brother, sister-in-law and niece in person. I can tell my close friends in Baltimore in person.

And so it went, the fantasy of being pregnant. The fantasy of being able to hug my friends and family who are far away, but who I will be seeing in just a little over a week, when I tell them that I'm having a baby.

Wednesday morning...this morning, my body decided it was time to bitch slap me back into reality. And so, even though I thought I had moved beyond the mourning, even though I had decided it was time to think about next steps and be positive for December, I've taken a step backward.

I got my period, and all of the feelings I had on Friday and Saturday, the sadness, the grief, the feeling like my body is failing me -- they all came back. Five days after getting my test result. I have to deal with these emotions all over again.

And I will. And the good part about having so many failed attempts, the good part about having so many disappointments, is that I know I can move on, I know that the sadness lessens, and that I won't always feel like this. I'll feel hopeful again, I'll feel like I can do this, that at some point it will work.

Someday I'll feel like that again. But not today.

Hump Day Blues

Just when I think I am okay this month, just when I start to think positive thoughts for the next cycle, something hits me -- yet another person (in my life or someone in the news) is pregnant, or I saw the picture of the embryos on the fridge, or I get an e-mail chain forward thing and the person wished for me to have a baby.

And then I cry. Or I got to sleep early to try not to think about it anymore. Some days I'm just fine. Once I got over my period on Sunday, I felt good. I felt good about moving forward. I had my baseline ultrasound and blood work -- the first step for the next time. But the past few nights, I haven't felt hopeful, I haven't felt good.

I wonder how many more times I can take this. How many times can I be hopeful and then be crushed, and survive the disappointment?

I talked to a friend at work today who is also going through fertility treatment. Her issues are different from mine, but we both understand what we're going through. Sometimes we are the only ones who can understand what the other one is feeling, or thinking.

We've both had so many road blocks. Today, she found out she has Hep C. Not a death sentence, but the treatment of it will take time. Time that feels like she doesn't have if she wants to get pregnant. And her husband, sweet as he is, has children from a previous relationship -- so while he can sympathize with her, he doesn't understand completely.

And so April and I are trying to be supportive to each other, trying to be the shoulder to cry on, trying to be strong for each other.

I'm not sure what any of this means, and how any of this is interesting to you, my dear readers, but it shows the kind of mood I'm in, the kind of scrambled brain I've had the past few days. And how one moment I can feel so good, and for no reason at all, in the very next, I'm sitting at my computer crying.

Not only do I feel out of control with the baby thing, but also the weight thing. I've tried to let it go. I know that my body and my brain are in direct conflict with each other. My body is trying to prepare itself for pregnancy. For the past 18 months, it has been given all sorts of hormones to prepare for a baby. And yet, in my head, I still try to count calories in and count calories burned, try to weigh myself every day without wanting to throw the scale through the window.

And no matter what, I have no control. My body is hungry when I've just eaten. Tired when I'm at the gym and should be wanting to work out for 90 minutes. My belly is swollen with no baby in it. I need to try to get control of one thing, just one aspect of my life. And I don't know how that is possible at this point.

Shark Week

I stopped taking all of the hormones on Tuesday night, and last night before bed had the tell-tale signs that my period was coming. When I woke up this morning, I had it full force, along with a pain I've never felt before.

The pain is bearable. I'm not doubled over or anything, but it is beyond the usual cramps. And I don't know if that pain is real or because what it means. I thought I was okay and was able to move on this month. Apparently not.

It hit me hard this morning. I sat in my office and cried. I sat in Hope's office and cried. It's just not my period, but what is being washed out of my body with it. And even though I shouldn't think of this as a miscarriage because it was just a chemical pregnancy, how can I not.

There was never a heart beat, and even for the four days that I thought I was pregnant, I was extremely cautious. I never got truly excited about the pregnancy. Either way, this is different than getting a negative pregnancy test.

This was thinking that the last 18 months of ups and downs, of having hope and being crushed, was all finally worth it. This was the moment that I had been waiting for, the moment that everyone promised me through all the other negative tests was going to be worth it, the moment that would make me forget the pain and disappointment of the last year.

And this moment is now being absorbed and flushed away.

Knock Yourself Up

I wrote the post for today in my head so many times over the past few days, and now because of the results of my blood test this morning, I can't use any of it.

I went for blood work this morning at the hospital, and it took forever. There was only one person taking blood, and she was a talker. So after 25 minutes of waiting, with only three people ahead of me, it was finally my turn.

And then when she saw what the test was for, "are ya hoping for good news?"

"Yes." Lip quivering.

"How long have you been trying?"

"About a year and a half."

"I'll be praying for you."

I thought was I going to lose it right there in the middle of the outpatient lab at Cayuga Medical Center. But I held it together, made it to work and made an attempt to start working on a website.

My cell phone rang about 9:15. I saw the 315 area code and my heart starting pounding. I was practically crying when I said "hello."

"Ellie....it's Linda from the fertility guru's office. You haven't taken any hCG, right?"

"That's right."

"Well good then....your test is positive."

And then I lost it. The tears spilled down, my face scrunched up, and I grabbed a tissue and balled it up in my hand. "Really?"

"Really. Your hCG was 47. We like it to be around 40. You'll go again for the same test on Monday to make sure your numbers are moving up the way they are supposed to."

And just like that, my life changed. Every little sign that I had this week, that I chalked up to something else -- always hungry, the weather changing; twinges in my lower abdomen, I haven't had my period since August; and tender breasts, I am taking 300 mg of progesterone every day -- it all seemed to make sense. I wasn't reading too much into it all. I'm really pregnant.

I know it's early. Way early. And so I'm being cautiously optimistic about it all. Not looking at my Target registry that I made 15 months ago. Not buying anything. I haven't even told my mom yet!

But now...it feels like this will stick. And as my very wise friend said to me this morning, no matter what happens, you know your body can do what it's supposed to, you know you can get pregnant.

And she's right. And it is. And I can.

Blast from the Past

I received the following email via LinkedIn this morning when I got to work:

Hi hon....nice to your big beautiful smile. How are you? xoxo T

I have to admit, I giggled like a school girl when I read it. T was the most beautiful specimen of a man in college. He was from Antigua, so he had an accent to die for; the most beautiful milk chocolate skin, dimples and a soccer player's body.

I've never been a big fan of these social networking sites, mostly because I thought I was too old for them, or too something, I'm not sure what. But recently I've reconnected with a bunch of people from high school -- and once I get over the fact that I think I am the only one from Corcoran High, Class of '88 not married or in a committed relationship, it's been really fun to see how and where people ended up.

So back to T. I was young and naive, and had no clue about relationships. And the minute he paid attention to me, I was completely smitten, head over heels. I spent many a night crying over him mostly because I built up a relationship where it was nothing more than flirtation, had expected so much from him and had grandiose ideas of what it meant to go to college and have your first college boyfriend. And of course none of those ideas and dreams came to fruition quite the way I expected it to. Lesson learned the hard way.

If I knew then what I know now....T and I could have really had some fun.

Back to present day, I responded, asked him if he was married, kids, and gave him the 25-word version of my life since I graduated from Fisher in '93. And so, just like my high school friends on Facebook, I am having fun learning about the paths that people's lives have taken, people I once cared about, people who I didn't stop caring about because of something sinister or malicious, but just because people grow up and move on.

So where I once looked down upon the whole social networking thing, saw it as something I needed to know about for work, because that's where prospective students are, I've learned to not be so judgmental.

Maybe you can teach this old dog a new trick.

That Girl

I want to be this girl again. And I don't know how to find her. Not that I want to be reliant on Chris or his opinion. I want to be that girl, that beautiful girl, who felt so good about the way she looked.

I want to be that girl who worked out two hours a day -- and not only loved every minute of it, but couldn't wait to go to the gym the next day.

I even want to be that girl who weighed herself two, three times a day.

It makes me sad that I'm having such a hard time finding her, that I'd rather come home and hibernate, and think about not being that girl, or even a girl who's about to be a mom.

It's a gray rainy Monday -- and my mood reflects it. I'm hoping for a better Tuesday.

Feeling Better

After a few weepy days, I'm feeling better. I got my period -- which while it took away the glimmer of a false negative, it also made me move on. That cycle is over and done with, and a new cycle means a new opportunity.

And so I'm going in tomorrow for an ultrasound to see if there are any residual cysts left over from last month's dose of clomid. I'm fully expecting there to be, given the trends of the last few months. But I'm okay with that, because I can take this month to get back into the swing of things at the gym.

I have my first really good work out in months last night. I have an adorable new trainer who dotes on me. It's a shame he's only 22. He even sent me an email tonight telling me he missed me and was bored without me there tonight (I had acupuncture). We did upper body and abs, and tomorrow he's going to work me hard with lower body.

I really haven't felt that good after a workout since I've started this whole fertility thing. I think between the hormones and my mind being focused on the baby thing, that I couldn't really focus on working out like I used to.

But if there is anything good that has come from my failed attempts, it has given me a sense of balance. Or at least reminded me that I need to have a better sense of balance -- and not focus (obsess, really) on just one thing. My life needs to be about more than just one thing.

My resolution for Lent -- to not complain, or should I say complain for the sake of complaining. For every complaint, I need to find a way to resolve it.

It will help me stay positive.

A happy mind means a happy body.

(PS....thanks Nina for your kind words).