Sigh. So, I told Amy that I felt like I was PowerOvulating this cycle.  Not only did I get an unmistakable positive OPK, an have all of the requisite EWCM, but for the first time ever I also had cramping, and today, even hiccups! TWICE! (TCOYF suggests that some women have hiccups at ovulation.)  I am also bone tired, which is one of my regular post-ov symptoms, but exacerbated by a fabulous day spent on the coast.  Dave came home and was lightheaded and dizzy from the heat, and probably a bit of low blood sugar and dehydration (it is still hot here) so I didn’t offer myself up to him. As it is, I’m pretty sure the egg has dropped, and if yesterday was enough, it will be. We did our best, no?

So, yes, a trip for iced coffee and cat litter with Andy turned into an impromptu journey down the coast to have seafood on the water in Belfast, and then go mucking about Ft Knox for a while. I wish I’d brought my camera, and Andy said "I’m surprised you didn’t actually… but oh yeah, we were just planning on going to Shaw’s. too."  So, another place I should go with the camera (the first is the bakery in Dover that is housed in an old bank) I guess. 

I’m going to southern maine, maybe tomorrow to stay with Amy, and then on Friday I’ll spend some time on a lake with Jezabel.  Saturday I need to drop off my photos at the civic center for the contest, and Amy and Daed will be up (possibly) to stay the night before taking Daed to camp on Sunday.  My folks will be here Sunday night, as my mom has a doctor appointment the next day, and then it will be back to just Dave and I — and the FatKitty, of course.  Which means I need to fold laundry!

And oh, Brat Camp is on ABC tonight! A rerun from last week is on now, new ep at 9.  Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it! 🙂

The room is done. And yes, it IS hot!  Especially when you remember that A/C in Maine is not commonplace, and our only cooling device is a tower fan we got last year. So :P, Texas. 😉

The next project is to work on the curtains, but depending on the weather… that’s a rainy day one for sure.  And then the next project is the TTC one. Oh yeah.

I had one period after the m/c, and now I’m gearing up to ovulate, by my calculations.  I’m using OPKs this cycle, just to be sure, and I reupdated my ticker over on the right under "Babyish."

It’s weird, really, to be back on the wagon.  I feel ready, if it took this month, I might have to do some creative legwork to finish my grad school thing (GA and coursework, both) and if I don’t and it takes next cycle, there would be other things to worry about — job hunting, etc.  So. I’m not going to worry.  What happens will happen, but after trying for almost a year the first time, I don’t want to miss any more chances.  As it is, with my long cycles I get a few less than the average person each year, so i want to make the best of any opportunity.  So, for now, I am doing OPKs, and calculating based on my pre-pregnancy/miscarriage cycles (which were also pre-Synthroid) and just. . . making the wish, and hoping everything turns out the way it should. We’ll see.

I’m not religious, and I’m certainly not Catholic, but regardless, I wandered into St Patrick’s Cathedral when I realized I was walking by it.  I’d been there before, years ago with a school band trip, and remembered it being impressive in grandeur and architecture, and I wanted to go again.

The stillness inside was so different from the streets outside.  I wandered around, and didn’t take many pictures because the light was poor, so I just absorbed it all.  Banks of candles flickered in various spots, and I went to see what the differences were.  Each saint had their own plaque that described their significance, and a collection box and candles and long sticks to light with.  I decided that I would light a candle, even though I wasn’t Catholic, and I rationalized it by considering it an admission fee to make a formal wish.  I read every plaque in there, trying to find the right Saint to direct my wishes to, and some seemed okay, until I came to Elizabeth Seton.  Her statue was cast in bronze, I think, but decidedly different than the multitudes of marble statues.  That’s what drew my eye first.  And reading the plaque for her, I knew I’d found my saint.

"Lord God, you blessed Elizabeth Ann Seton with gifts of gracious wife and mother, educator and foundress, so that she might spend her life in service to your people.  Through her example and prayers, may we learn to express our love for You in love for one another."

I stuffed two dollar bills into the collection box and placed a candle in the holder, and got the wooden stick.  The first attempt to light it didn’t work (leading me to imagine me starting some heathen fire and being a headline "Agnostic flees scene of attempted ritual" or whatever), so I adjusted the wick and tried again.  I don’t pray, I’m not religious, but I paused for a moment and thought about the miscarriage, the hopes for the future, and made a little wish that everything works out for the best.  I mean, "wife, mother, educator, and foundress?"  That saint was MADE for me.

So, in my day off, I updated the Babyopedia (link at right) with some of the info that I’d been reading since I found out I was pregnant, and miscarriage, and all of that.  New sections for father stuff, and for miscarriage.  Hopefully, I end up adding more to one of those sections than the other.

I’m feeling okay — I have been told that it’s not uncommon to nest before passing the embryo, and boy, did I nest.  I cleaned the shower, sure, but did I mention that I also took apart the drain and cleaned that too? And that after I cleaned the shower, I filled it up with bleach and hot water and let it soak, and then drained it again?

You know, seeing this pattern in retrospect (and the comparisons to labor are one of a pattern, and not pain) it makes me feel very animal-like.  We humans are at the top of the food chain, and keep other animals as pets, but we forget sometimes that we are one of the animal species, too.  And my need to clean the DRAIN of my tub (which involves using a philips screwdriver AND a flathead screwdriver, by the way) was some sort of animal instinct to make sure that room was ready for today, even though it was just a glob of cells, even though I thought it was gone two weeks ago, my body knew better.  I wasn’t done yet.

The weather here has been miserable since I started bleeding heavily.  It feels odd that I would have had all this bleeding during all of this rain.  It has rained every single day since I started to bleed red, every day.  And it’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow, and I wonder if my bleeding will stop when the sun comes out, if the high pressure  system will dry me up and let me move on.  The biggest part is over now, I know that for sure.  And as terrified and scared and sad I was to see that, I was also a little amazed that it had ever existed, that we had managed to get the cells to join up and divide to become someTHING.  I can’t imagine what it will be like when we have an actual baby, but I look forward to it.

Vacation was awesome, wonderful, fabulous, etc.  I’ll post about it when I have pictures uploaded.

One thing that has been tearing me up is the paralyzing fear of miscarriage.  I’m not puking (but I DON’T, and my mother never did) and where that seems to be the Holy Grail of pregnancy symptoms, it worries me. And yes, I know that only 50 percent puke, and I know that there are people who BREEZE through the first tri (kb, for instance, who didn’t evenknow she WAS pregnant until 13 weeks, was it?) but I still worry. It is my nature, I guess.

Vacationing was a catch-22 for the worry.  "Am I less tired, or just getting enough rest because I’m sleeping at will?" "Is the heartburn from dinner, or something else?"  "Am I tired from the sun, or from the . . . .situation?"  Plus, having a week to not be distracted by, say, work, was great, but means that I had lots of time to Worry. Which sucks.

So, I worry.  Then, today I decide to go to the mall to take advantage of a promo coupon that’s a 15 dollar gift check to Lane Bryant, and head out.  When I walk in, I smell. everything.  I can smell burnt popcorn from god knows where, and the toppings at Sbarro, and people’s cologne, and the plastic of strollers roling by. Oh. Huh.  And after being on my feet for 30-45 minutes, hoo doggie, TIRED. But I had to get groceries, where I was once again asaulted by smells.  I could smell the fish in the bread aisle, and all of the meats at the back of the store.  I could smell the different types of bread. And cookies. And cigarette smoke on people as they passed. Oh. Well then.

So, I need to relax, just a bit, and when I get paranoid that my ‘only symptom’ is the painful tits, I need to lookaround and say "OH WAIT. I’M ON VACATION and don’t GET TIRED at 3 because I gotup at 10 and dozed off on the beach at 1. I need to go to the MALL and test out the smeller again."

It’s good to be home.  The cat is not letting us out of her sight, and when we finally crawled into bed at 3 am (flight was delayed by over 4 hours) she jumped into her position, squished between us, purring so loudly and for so long it was hard to get to sleep. She is going to be so pissed when the squidlet arrives.

April 6 has always been a weird day for me.  When I was 18, 11 years ago, I was at my first college, and April 6 was a rainy, miserable day.  I had been seeing a shrink, I was on Paxil, but it wasn’t helping. It was bad.  April 6 was the worst day yet.  I can remember what I was wearing: a purple and green plaid shirt from the Gap, that came from Amy, that came from someone else to her.  Levis.  The dark ones.  My black buckle shoes.

I ended up in a psych hospital because of that day.  It was bad.

So, April 6 is a day for reflection for me.  Six years ago, I was standing in front of the Twelve Apostles in Australia to reflect.  Some years, I called in sick to work, just to check in with myself and make sure I was still feeling alive.  Every year, it is a day that I pause to think.

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After school today, one of my kids, Kaitlin, was asking me about my upccoming trip to Florida.  "Can I go?" she asked," and I responded with an "I don’t THINK so, this is my romantic beach vacation with my husband."

She laughed and said "Okay, but bring us back a baby, Mrs S!"  I think I blushed. I know she did.  I mean, she just told her TEACHER to HAVE SEX.  It was one of those comments that she might make to an aunt, or a friend of her mom’s, you know?  So it was sweet, in a way, and sort of highlights how my relationship with my kids goes deeper than teacher-student.  I’ve had them for two years, so we really KNOW each other.  Of course, that’s the whole reason they are disbanding multiage, they don’t WANT kids to be with teachers for two years, even though it builds great relationships and trust and respect. Anyway.

Still no period. Nada.  It’s CD39.  I’ts been 14 days since the last GOF, and since the last alleged ovulation.  I am tired, and food averse, but I’m also running hot, so maybe it’s a bug. Or not. Who knows.

I’ve put Dave on alert; let him know the numbers, what’s what, and that if I start to bleed, I’m calling my doc right away.  He’s ready for the cup. "Is there porn in the office?!" and when I told him he could probably do it at home, he was still okay with it.  "You tell me when, and I’ll do it." 

When I start, I’ll call the doc for several reasons, all interlaced.  It’s been a year since my colposcopy, and six months since my last pap, so I think I’m due anyway.  I’ll mention the TTC (I know it’s in my records since the colp a year ago) the long cycles, the steps taken so far, with OPKs, special lube, missionary position, butt-lifting, vitamin cocktails, cycle calculations, cervical mucus observations, having sex every other day, everything.  The TTC is also part of the reason my eczema is so bad (stress exacerbates it) and why I’ve been slipping into depression more and more.  I’m hoping I can at least get a referral to the OB practice I WANT to go to (they only take new patients that are pregnant or seeking infertility treatment) for testing, just to get a baseline.  If there’s something really not working for us, I want to know, I’ve put in my year (almost) and if it all comes back normal, then great, we keep trying. But if there’s something impeding us that can be treated, let’s get started, you know?

Anyway. I feel like shit, in so many ways.  Thanks for all your insight on the Vagina Math, too. I realize how fascinating it is. Heh.

Okay. Math time.

My 39 day average is calculated by mymonthlycycles.com, which only has data back to September.  I’ve dug up the numbers to prepare my case for my doctor.  This is the tenth cycle of trying. So, from starting last spring, til now, in ascending order, here are the cycle lengths:

28
28
35
31
31
36
36
45
37

The first two were my post BC cycles, which were recalibrations of my cycle, I’m quite sure.
The first long one I was taking care of my cousin’s baby in Portland for a week, pissing on sticks at Amy’s house more than once.  I started my last day there, I think it was.
The next two, whatever, it was late summer/early fall.
The two after that were in the fall, that first 36 day cycle ended the day before our anniversary, and was the first time Dave was really bummed.
That 45 dayer was a fucker — that was the one with the faint line/false positive/evap line/whatever that cost me 60 bucks+ for a blood test that I still haven’t paid for, I should probably do that.
Then the 37 dayer.

Calculating that, my cycle average is 34 days.  Taking out the 2 recalibration cycles and that 45dayer, my cycle average is 34 days.  Taking out just the recalibrations, my cycle length is 36 days.

Today is Day 38.  I am still not bleeding.

See? This is what fucks with me EVERY MONTH.  The math.  I’m a pattern person, and I try to interpret the pattern as best I can, and it is damn frustrating. 

So, Internet Mathemagicians, what pattern do YOU see?

Well, I’m feeling crampy as hell today, so I’m not too hopeful about this cycle. Fuck.

I’ve been off BC for over a year, now.  We’ve been actively trying since June of last year.  Some months, more than others . . .since when, october, maybe?, we’ve been super duper trying.  There was one month (September, I think) where we tried not to try, because of our vacation next month, but did have one unimpeded round of GOF.  After that month, we went to every other day, and last cycle I had the great OPK result and started PreSeed, and this cycle we had JUST started a vitamin regimen right around ovulation, so that doesn’t really count.  Next cycle will be vitamins, PreSeed, and maybe? OPKs, I’m not sure.  I feel like I can rely on my CM pretty well, since the OPK sort of proved to me that I was ovulating.

So, then, we’re in April.  10 months of TTC, with long cycles, and nothing doing.  I plan on talking to my regular doctor this month, about TTC and other things, assuming I’m not pregnant (and I really don’t believe I am, but you know, Schrodingers cat and all) and then what?

I’m lucky in that Dave is ready to do what he needs to, jiz in a cup, get blood drawn, whatever.  I’m okay with getting various tests, but how does it start?  How does it go from talking to your GP and saying "So, we’ve been trying really hard and nothing’s happening" to the next step? Does a GP schedule/perform those tests, or do you get referred? Do you get referred as a couple?  Dave and I use the same practice/office but different docs, so would it be done in house? 

We go on vacation in two weeks.  I remember booking the trip and being sure that I’d be pregnant. And I’m not.
(ETA: No, I haven’t tested. . . but I’m crampy and bleh and having my usual PMS symptoms.)

I was pretty ambivalent, as I’ve mentioned.  I’ve been very zen about the whole TTC for this month, until today. Today, I slept in, and around noon ate one slice of my leftover mushroom pizza.  When we get pizza, it’s always on Friday, and we eat 2 slices for dinner and the other two for lunch the next day. This is a long-established pattern for our pizza weekends.  After the first piece, though, I felt like shit.

I bucked up and went to the mall, because I needed to see if I could find Teva-like sandals for Dave.  It was packed, and smelly. I smelled cologne.  I smelled BO.  And Olympia Sports sporty-smell was grossing me out.  I got so hot and clammy feeling, I left without buying anything. No, wait, that’s a lie, I bought the last 5 truffle eggs at CVS, as they are Dave’s favorite candy and were on clearance from Easter and won’t show up again until the truffle witch version of Halloween.  Even then, holding the packages in my hand as I was checking out, I kept shifting them around, certain that the body heat from my fingers would melt them and ruin them.

I drove to Target, and it too, was packed, so I came home and fell asleep. Again.

I ventured back out to Target, still packed but maybe less so, bought what I needed and came home.  Dave made cheeseburgers, and now the whole house smells like them. Even the bathroom and bedroom upstairs, and he used the range hood exhaust fan.

My boobs (nipples, especially) have been itchy since shortly after ovulation, and on one nipple, I have a dry spot that is slightly smaller than a dime.  Conversely, Dave noted in the shower this morning that my chest, shoulders and back are more broken out than he’s ever seen. WTF?

I’m not going to test tomorrow. I’m going to test if I’m late. That’s Tuesday, and I am going to a workshop that day, anyway, so I wouldn’t have to deal with kids, which is the major issue there. So, yeah. We’ll see.