Sunday, December 16, 2007
And so it begins
I return from a prolonged absence to tell you. I am knocked up. I will try to blog more regularly now that the effort to get pregnant is no longer eating my soul from the inside.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Confession
My name is Suburban Gorgon, and I am an addict.
I know what you're thinking - if she knows that, she knows there are help groups available to her, resources in the community. Uh uh. Not for this particular addiction.
You see, I am addicted to taking pregnancy tests. As the mother of the Kraken, who is now three years old, I remember the overpowering rush of excitement I felt upon seeing those magical two little pink lines appear as I was putting the cap on the test stick (no waiting three minutes for me!). I had always known I wanted children, and to miraculously conceive after 6 weeks of trying, at the age of 33, seemed like such a gift, and so it turned out to be. Now, almost four years later, I am 37, and it isn't going so smoothly this time.
The first month when my period arrived right on schedule, I wasn't surprised. After all, I had one period last time after I went off the pill as well. The second month, I was so confident that I had managed to conceive quickly again, I took an early test, several days before my period was due. Negative. Well, that just means there isn't enough hormone yet, right? After all, they don't get 99% accurate until you're late. Wait two days, take another one. Negative again. And then period. So much for that.
The third month, I thought, would be the charm. We had been having still more, um, relations, and this time I had been paying very close attention to my signals. I knew when I should have ovulated, and I frog marched the Minotaur to bed at all the right times, with all the passion of a tax audit. This time, I couldn't even wait for it to be "five days before the missed period". This time, I took the test a full week before my period was due. The hell? Those things are expensive, even when you buy them in bulk at Costco, as I have now taken to doing. And there was no way that it would have shown up yet at that point even if I was pregnant. So why the hell did I take it? That's easy. Hope.
Five tests later (not kidding), my period arrived. Time for month four. Now this is getting serious. Two more months and at my "advanced maternal age", I should be consulting my doctor about potential fertility problems. Come on! This is the body that created the Kraken. It's not possible that it should have turned on me in just a few short years. Did I wait too long? Did I miss my window? This has to be the month it happens.
This is technically now month five. I would love to say that at the end of month 4 I waited until my period was due to test. I would be lying. Early tests (yes, plural) were negative. The day of my period came and went. As did the next day, and the next, and the next. I held hope in my heart like a tumor, growing inside me every day but feeding on me like cancer, too. I took another test. Negative. I waited two more days. No period. Another test. Negative. If my period does not make an appearance tomorrow, it will be a week late. To some of you, this may sound normal, but I'm a regular sort of girl, if you know what I mean. To be a week late should mean baby, but there's no way I should test negative now if I'm this pregnant - I would have hormones leaking out my ears.
I need help. Before I have to mortgage my house to pay for this little habit of mine.
I know what you're thinking - if she knows that, she knows there are help groups available to her, resources in the community. Uh uh. Not for this particular addiction.
You see, I am addicted to taking pregnancy tests. As the mother of the Kraken, who is now three years old, I remember the overpowering rush of excitement I felt upon seeing those magical two little pink lines appear as I was putting the cap on the test stick (no waiting three minutes for me!). I had always known I wanted children, and to miraculously conceive after 6 weeks of trying, at the age of 33, seemed like such a gift, and so it turned out to be. Now, almost four years later, I am 37, and it isn't going so smoothly this time.
The first month when my period arrived right on schedule, I wasn't surprised. After all, I had one period last time after I went off the pill as well. The second month, I was so confident that I had managed to conceive quickly again, I took an early test, several days before my period was due. Negative. Well, that just means there isn't enough hormone yet, right? After all, they don't get 99% accurate until you're late. Wait two days, take another one. Negative again. And then period. So much for that.
The third month, I thought, would be the charm. We had been having still more, um, relations, and this time I had been paying very close attention to my signals. I knew when I should have ovulated, and I frog marched the Minotaur to bed at all the right times, with all the passion of a tax audit. This time, I couldn't even wait for it to be "five days before the missed period". This time, I took the test a full week before my period was due. The hell? Those things are expensive, even when you buy them in bulk at Costco, as I have now taken to doing. And there was no way that it would have shown up yet at that point even if I was pregnant. So why the hell did I take it? That's easy. Hope.
Five tests later (not kidding), my period arrived. Time for month four. Now this is getting serious. Two more months and at my "advanced maternal age", I should be consulting my doctor about potential fertility problems. Come on! This is the body that created the Kraken. It's not possible that it should have turned on me in just a few short years. Did I wait too long? Did I miss my window? This has to be the month it happens.
This is technically now month five. I would love to say that at the end of month 4 I waited until my period was due to test. I would be lying. Early tests (yes, plural) were negative. The day of my period came and went. As did the next day, and the next, and the next. I held hope in my heart like a tumor, growing inside me every day but feeding on me like cancer, too. I took another test. Negative. I waited two more days. No period. Another test. Negative. If my period does not make an appearance tomorrow, it will be a week late. To some of you, this may sound normal, but I'm a regular sort of girl, if you know what I mean. To be a week late should mean baby, but there's no way I should test negative now if I'm this pregnant - I would have hormones leaking out my ears.
I need help. Before I have to mortgage my house to pay for this little habit of mine.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
A snapshot in time
Driving home from work yesterday. The weather was warm, unseasonably so for early October in my neck of the woods. I took off my jacket in the car, and stretched my arms out as I sat at the stoplight on the highway, halfway from home.
I glanced over at the car next to me. Large, burly man. Spacers in both ears. Tattoos all over both arms. And I thought. Well. I bet he's over there listening to something loud. On the way to somewhere interesting. Where no one will spray bits of cereal in his face when they talk. And here I sit over in my car. I have tattoos all over me too. But I am driving to a daycare with a fluffy pink blanket in the backseat, and an electric red Elmo doll on the floor by my feet. I am listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on my CD player and there is no chance that a bar is anywhere in my near future. That guy over there looks like me, but I'm not in that world anymore. I didn't feel grief, or even envy, just a detached interest in the fact that two people could look so much alike, but be living in such different worlds.
As I ruminated on this, his car pulled away into the turn lane to the right to exit onto the highway. And it was then that I saw his license plate. GRFNDOR. Heh.
I glanced over at the car next to me. Large, burly man. Spacers in both ears. Tattoos all over both arms. And I thought. Well. I bet he's over there listening to something loud. On the way to somewhere interesting. Where no one will spray bits of cereal in his face when they talk. And here I sit over in my car. I have tattoos all over me too. But I am driving to a daycare with a fluffy pink blanket in the backseat, and an electric red Elmo doll on the floor by my feet. I am listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on my CD player and there is no chance that a bar is anywhere in my near future. That guy over there looks like me, but I'm not in that world anymore. I didn't feel grief, or even envy, just a detached interest in the fact that two people could look so much alike, but be living in such different worlds.
As I ruminated on this, his car pulled away into the turn lane to the right to exit onto the highway. And it was then that I saw his license plate. GRFNDOR. Heh.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Home again
Well, we're back. Given my infrequent postings of late, I'm guessing most of you didn't even know that we had meandered off to Louisiana to visit the family of the Minotaur.
New Orleans, people. Please go. Spend money. It is so very, very empty, and even the most well preserved places have an air of an old house long abandoned. The town is a shadow of what it was, and it hurt my heart to be there.
Also, did anyone else know that Louisiana is full of GIANT SPIDERS in the summertime? I spent 4 days on the verge of throwing up. It makes no sense for an old school goth girl to be arachnophobic, but we are what we are.
The trip was less frustrating than usual, perhaps because the Minotaur was clever enough to obtain some gin immediately upon arrival. Gin helps. So does the presence of my much loved brothers in law and their wives. And oh, the children. The older ones I love for themselves, but the littlest.......I love for the sheer fact that he is a baby. A soft, pliant, fat handed, sweet smelling lap full of baby. And the Kraken actually let me hold him. Nay, encouraged it, following up with plaintive requests to take him home with us. Shows promise that my possessive little girl might be able to share after all.
I feel like this blog has taken a sideways turn of late. That all the ideas I have that would make good posts come to me only when I am miles away from the keyboard, and that what I am left with are facile recountings of my daily activities and the Kraken's clever repartee. Sound and fury, signifying nothing. I promise that I have thoughts in my head that I don't manage to convey.
My decision never to blog about work has definitely put a damper on my subject matter as well. That's where I am most hours of the week, and at this point most of my social interaction happens there as well. But, the annual beach trip is BOOKED (thanks, Sugarmama, for all the hard work as usual), and that will be something to hold in my heart and look forward to.
No word on the pregnancy front - another week before I know if the Minotaur managed to knock me up this month. So, I bought a bottle of Bombay Sapphire with the intention of enjoying my beloved gin to the fullest in anticipation of having to soon give it up.
The stupid cat is drinking out of the fishbowl.
I recently finished a book - The Shadow of the Wind. It affected me powerfully, although I have still not fully analyzed why. I think to some extent it's just the awareness of the gift that is storytelling, and how joyous it is when it's done well. The story itself is no revelation, but the relish with which it is told - I highly recommend it.
Did I mention how much I love being an aunt?
That's it. All done. More when I have shaken off the week and settled into my weekend self.
New Orleans, people. Please go. Spend money. It is so very, very empty, and even the most well preserved places have an air of an old house long abandoned. The town is a shadow of what it was, and it hurt my heart to be there.
Also, did anyone else know that Louisiana is full of GIANT SPIDERS in the summertime? I spent 4 days on the verge of throwing up. It makes no sense for an old school goth girl to be arachnophobic, but we are what we are.
The trip was less frustrating than usual, perhaps because the Minotaur was clever enough to obtain some gin immediately upon arrival. Gin helps. So does the presence of my much loved brothers in law and their wives. And oh, the children. The older ones I love for themselves, but the littlest.......I love for the sheer fact that he is a baby. A soft, pliant, fat handed, sweet smelling lap full of baby. And the Kraken actually let me hold him. Nay, encouraged it, following up with plaintive requests to take him home with us. Shows promise that my possessive little girl might be able to share after all.
I feel like this blog has taken a sideways turn of late. That all the ideas I have that would make good posts come to me only when I am miles away from the keyboard, and that what I am left with are facile recountings of my daily activities and the Kraken's clever repartee. Sound and fury, signifying nothing. I promise that I have thoughts in my head that I don't manage to convey.
My decision never to blog about work has definitely put a damper on my subject matter as well. That's where I am most hours of the week, and at this point most of my social interaction happens there as well. But, the annual beach trip is BOOKED (thanks, Sugarmama, for all the hard work as usual), and that will be something to hold in my heart and look forward to.
No word on the pregnancy front - another week before I know if the Minotaur managed to knock me up this month. So, I bought a bottle of Bombay Sapphire with the intention of enjoying my beloved gin to the fullest in anticipation of having to soon give it up.
The stupid cat is drinking out of the fishbowl.
I recently finished a book - The Shadow of the Wind. It affected me powerfully, although I have still not fully analyzed why. I think to some extent it's just the awareness of the gift that is storytelling, and how joyous it is when it's done well. The story itself is no revelation, but the relish with which it is told - I highly recommend it.
Did I mention how much I love being an aunt?
That's it. All done. More when I have shaken off the week and settled into my weekend self.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
A synopsis of my day
I have a pimple on my chin.
And a bug bite on my butt.
My daughter woke at 5:15 screaming her heart out because she could not locate her stupid duck Pez dispenser in her bed in the dark.
And I have PMS (plus a negative pregnancy test).
Today is not my most favoritest day. Tomorrow will be better, I feel sure.
And a bug bite on my butt.
My daughter woke at 5:15 screaming her heart out because she could not locate her stupid duck Pez dispenser in her bed in the dark.
And I have PMS (plus a negative pregnancy test).
Today is not my most favoritest day. Tomorrow will be better, I feel sure.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
I don't want to turn this into a "Gorgon gets pregnant" blog, but......
It seems to be the dominant theme in my brain at the moment, so that's what I'm blogging about. For the almost 3 years my daughter has been on this earth I have experienced a certain level of ambivalence about having another one. Not because I don't love her. Not because I don't like being a mother, but precisely because those things are true. My feelings about the Kraken are so strong that it's hard to imagine feeling this way about another child. I haven't been able to help feeling that I would be shortchanging everyone involved. My daughter, because she would have to share me. My unborn child because he or she would get a diluted form of my love, and would have to spend life watching the Kraken gulp it down at full strength. Myself, because of the guilt that would come from compromising everyone's happiness.
What changed? That's a very good question. I am actually not sure anything has changed. I still have big fear that I won't handle this well, that someone will get less than they need through no fault of their own. Intellectually, I know this is completely ridiculous. I am the first of two children, and I see no difference in the love our parents bestowed on the two of us, and never did. My husband is one of four boys, and none of them turned out to be morally derelict or insane.
I think my fear is more founded in my awareness of my own shortcomings. I can focus very well as long as I have a limited number of things to focus on. Given a limited playing field I will "play" better than anyone else on the team, in most of the endeavors of my life. Expand my range just the tiniest bit beyond my comfort zone and the wheels start to come off the bus, with a certain amount of fanfare and drama. I don't know if I've always been this way, or if my professional life has taught me to juggle so well that it becomes really noticeable when I cannot. I am afraid of extending myself to the point where I fail. Where I fail my daughter. A second child. My husband. Myself. I am afraid of the wheels coming off the bus.
And yet. I am off the pill. I am fertile right. this. minute. I know that I am. And I am going to try my damnedest to get knocked up tonight. And I will fight my own fear and anxiety, I believe (I hope), only until I feel the child move within me, and then I will make my peace with my own inadequacies because I have to. I have to remember. I have done this before. I know how to do this. And love isn't sugar - it doesn't run out.
What changed? That's a very good question. I am actually not sure anything has changed. I still have big fear that I won't handle this well, that someone will get less than they need through no fault of their own. Intellectually, I know this is completely ridiculous. I am the first of two children, and I see no difference in the love our parents bestowed on the two of us, and never did. My husband is one of four boys, and none of them turned out to be morally derelict or insane.
I think my fear is more founded in my awareness of my own shortcomings. I can focus very well as long as I have a limited number of things to focus on. Given a limited playing field I will "play" better than anyone else on the team, in most of the endeavors of my life. Expand my range just the tiniest bit beyond my comfort zone and the wheels start to come off the bus, with a certain amount of fanfare and drama. I don't know if I've always been this way, or if my professional life has taught me to juggle so well that it becomes really noticeable when I cannot. I am afraid of extending myself to the point where I fail. Where I fail my daughter. A second child. My husband. Myself. I am afraid of the wheels coming off the bus.
And yet. I am off the pill. I am fertile right. this. minute. I know that I am. And I am going to try my damnedest to get knocked up tonight. And I will fight my own fear and anxiety, I believe (I hope), only until I feel the child move within me, and then I will make my peace with my own inadequacies because I have to. I have to remember. I have done this before. I know how to do this. And love isn't sugar - it doesn't run out.
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