What I'll Do

I've been going back and forth about when/how I'll share my news when I get pregnant.  There are a few more readers of my blog now, so rather than just a couple of you girls I was already oversharing fertility issues with, there are quite a few of you who stop by now and again.  We might not even talk all that often.  Or, perhaps, you're a stranger on the internet.  That's unlikely, but totally cool.

So here's what I'm thinking.  I'll wait until the 6-week mark.  Or around then, since I think that's when they scheduled my first appointment last time.  I'll go in and make sure that the pee sticks (and yes, I'm certain it will be multiple) were right and the doctors agree there's a little person/zygote/blastocyst/bean hanging out in there.  I'll hopefully have a less traumatic experience than my last first ultrasound.  And then I'll come back and start to write about it.

I may or may not, at this point, have called everyone I'll want to have called.  And I'll hope to reach them before they just see it on here.  But I continue with my phone phobia, so if I fail there, I'll hope you'll forgive me.  Please?

I'll struggle to know what to say, and wonder if I should really announce it during the first trimester.  Then I'll probably just remind myself that, as an oversharer, I will probably want an overabundance of support if something goes wrong with the pregnancy.  I think?  Or maybe I won't.  But then I'll just write a short blog post that says please don't ask.  or... I don't know what I'll do.  Does anyone know how they'll mourn in advance?  Nothing would really make it hurt less.  So, I'll stop thinking about that what-if until/unless I absolutely have to.

Yeah.  That sounds like a plan so far.  I mean, it's gotta happen in 2013 right?  It can't take over a year again can it?  I mean, look here, PDG is already looking for his little sibling.

But then again. That's probably because he already knew then.  Like J-Man and I already knew then.  What made that west coast vacation even more special was waking up at 2:30 one San Francisco morning, like the addict I once again had become, and rubbing my eyes as I saw this.

Ok, mini-ME, it's on.  EDD  December 2nd

(and yes, Christmas card brainstorming has officially begun)

That Old Familiar Feeling

Last week I thought I was pregnant.  No, I didn't have the tell-tale sign of a billion trips to the bathroom, but I still just had this feeling.

Then, you know how minds can work, it started to spiral.  I started to feel hungrier.  But then, was I hungry that early in the first trimester?  Probably not.  So I started to feel full and tired.  Though didn't I have a ton of energy when we went to Mexico right after I tested positive?

My mind wanted to make it real, but couldn't remember quite what that was supposed to feel like.

It was funny, that week or so of being nervous to test.  On one hand I was facing the addiction of pre-PDG. Simultaneously I was nervous.  Scared of what others would think.  Scared of how I'd keep up the energy for working.  Scared I wouldn't be able to give PDG everything he deserved if I had them too close together.

Then hours later I'd be excited and hopeful again.  I'd imagine PDG and future baby EG or MG (yeah, we've had all these names for a long time now) growing up and playing together as best friends.  I'd think of myself next summer with an infant and with PDG home from daycare parttime and all of us being a cute, tired, happy family that would make day trips to have lunch with daddy in the Towne Center like this past summer.

Anyway, I finally decided this world of wondering wasn't healthy and took the test.

Some things don't change.  Ever.  I was still sad to see it wasn't so.  I still threw it away, and then double checked a little bit later to be sure it was reallyreally so.  I still pouted and then cheered myself up with a reassurance that anything could still be possible.

I dunno, I guess maybe I am ready.  Maybe?  Really, I don't know.

I do know that I love my little family.  I know I'm not in any rush.  I know that having children is not something I can ever control, and that the emotions that come with it can overtake me.

I just hope that I can stay level-headed about whatever does come next.  And if I do find myself with something to announce over the next months or years, good or bad, please just don't judge me, K?

Thanks.

Now to go eat some more, because pregnant or not, I could really go for some chocolate right now.

Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh!

Two weeks ago I woke up and did as I regretably have done almost every 12dpo for months now - I lost the battle to my addiction.  I was so disappointed in myself that I didn't even have the nerve to flip the test over.  Vacation was looming and I needed to get my pity party out of the way so I could relax in the hammocks like any other non-pregnant Mexico traveler.

I flipped it over only to see...

Could it be?

No.

No way.

Wait!

Maybe?

Definitely!

A second line?!?!?!

I got on the phone and frantically called my J-Man.

Office line.  Cell phone.  Office phone.  Cell phone.

"J-Man, it's me.  Um, call me when you get this. K? Bye."

I paced the apartment only half dressed and a neurotic mess.  I never put down that pee stick for fear it would magically shift back or I would wake up from the best dream of my life.

"Hello?  J-Man - we did it!"

Quiet pause. "Did what?"

"We made a baby!!!!!!"

------------------------------------

Fast forward two weeks, a few shrieks from the people I've had the chance to tell, a few nightmares about the million things that can still go horribly wrong, advice from some, hugs from others, continued hours on the same websites as before - but now as a member of a monthly message board, and we arrive at today, the big 1st prenatal appointment.

There's lots of information out there about what to expect.  This is especially true on a website titled after a book that tackles what to expect when, like me, you're expecting.  (I'm expecting!?!)

I had my pregnancy journal with my important dates.  It has questions to ask and things I've been feeling and other key things that might come up in a doctor's conversation.

I sat in the waiting room with women with big bellies, women with little bellies, women too old to be there about growing bellies, and I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

My doctor was already running behind, and when they called me back after nearly an hour, I felt less annoyed because my dizziness had subsided, I'd found a bathroom, and I'd been informed that she was running behind because she was dealing with an emergency of a woman who seemed to be dealing with a miscarriage.

How can you be mad at that?

I started thinking, while staring at my Parenting and Me magazine, that if I were having a crisis, I'd hope the doctor would care more about me than the waiting others, at least for a little while.  So I casually read.

Finally I went into the room with the sonogram machine, which was a surprise to say the least.  They'd been very clear that this exam would NOT inlude that, and therefore I had told J-Man not to worry and to come to the next one that probably would. 

I lay back as she did her thing, and stared at the screen in hopes of seeing a baby.  My baby.  If you can call something that tiny a baby.  ('When does life begin' conversation avoided)

We didn't see anything.

There was this black hole, a tiny black hole, where the doc said maybe something could be.  But her face showed concern. 

This practice is known for doctors who don't beat around the bush.  They're firm and caring, but they don't hold your hand.  They tell you what you need to know, and ask for questions after.

So much for my list of questions.  Instead, the only question that remained was - is a baby even growing? 

The machine is notably old - there was hope.  And perhaps it was still just a couple days too early.  At this stage, a couple days makes a huge difference.

Or it could be something really sad, that makes me teary just typing.

She gave me a referral to a lab with a fancier machine.  She reminded me it could all be great, but just in case we need to know.  We don't want the pregnancy to be in the wrong part of my body.  Or not developing at all. 

I emailed J-Man with the subject line "scared" from my phone.  They drew my blood.  I called the referral place.  I got an appointment.  I went to work.  I stuck with the motions. 

I asked myself, will crying help?

Nope.

Ok, I'll know something soon enough.  Nothing has been easy yet, why would my first appointment?  That's just how things are.  That's what I'm used to.  I'm kinda ok with that.  J-Man loves me still.

When I saddled up for a second ultrasound of the day the lady began clicking and zooming and measuring and very quickly I could see a black bean with a white circle and within that white circle a white little dandelion seed.  It vibrated ever so slightly, apparently just having developed its heart in the last day or so.  Next to that teeny tiny nothing of a dot, the technician drew an arrow and typed the word "BABY." 

That is my, very much alive, very itsy bitsy, child.  Everything it needs it has right now.  I'm ok, and it's ok and life is very much ok.

Due date according to current size - 3/3/12

A Good Day

This morning I had a test to check on some stuff that you probably don't want details about (or I have plans to email you about it separately) but I took away a few important thoughts from the experience

First off, nurses are amazing.  I know everyone gives love to doctors, and so do I, but when I have a great nurse I really, really remember them.  Today was Daisy, and she was the best.  She talked to me, asked me questions that weren't on a chart, made sure I was comfortable, and treated me the way I would imagine she'd treat her own daughter.  She even got me heated blankets for the cold, dark radiology room and held my hand during the uncomfortable procedure.  I'm so thankful for her kindness.

Second, radiology rooms are like space stations.  The fancy protective suits with the neckbands and the sterile metal everything and the giant looming machine.  And the doctor who won't be your real doctor so they're nice but don't need to be as nice so they just loom over you.  The technology is fascinating and overwhelming and all very new-agey. That, and the feeling that you're out of your element and feel like you're drifting away from reality, looking for an anchor to return home.

Third, mothering, this endeavor I want so badly, will never end once it's begun.  I called my own Mama H right after calling J-Man to proclaim the good news and I heard the tremble in her voice as she picked up the phone.  I knew, in just her hello, that she'd been thinking of me, was worried for me, wanted anything for me not to be going to hospitals and doing tests and taking the long road on this journey.  I don't know what that feels like, yet, but I imagine it will come.  This concern and love and hope for a being that you can only support but not control.  It will come "when the time is right" or "when God sees fit" or "when I relax" or "when I give up." 

I like the days when I see good in everyone.  Not the days I get mad or jealous or sad or confused.  Days like this where, even if doors aren't exactly opening, nothing is shutting.  Aren't these days the best?

Did you know?

Did you know you can get a cramp in your back from crying for three hours?

Did you know you can cry for three hours?

Did you know that when life gives you lemons you're supposed to make lemonade?   But that sometimes life only gives lemons.  And expects you to have sugar on the shelf.  Which sometimes you do, and there's plenty, and the lemonade comes out tasty and you sip it on a porch in the summer breeze while holding someone's hand and you're so thankful for sour and sweet and balance


But sometimes you just get out that juicer a friend gave you as a wedding present, and you squeeze out all the lemon juice into a little cup, and you can't find sugar or ice so you pucker up and drink it down and call it lemonade and curse the days you used to eat lemons like oranges because it made people laugh.

Did you know metaphors get messy if you extend them too far?

Did you know that healthcare is crazy expensive?

Did you know that even if you knew all this, you might still want something that seems impossible, because somehow, despite it all, the pain, the fear, the money, the time, you have never been more sure of what you could be if you got it.

Did you know that I love you dearly, for listening to me through the ups and downs and inbetweens?

I really hope you at least know that last one.

NIAW

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week. 

I thought about being one of those people who posts on facebook about all the people with a certain kind of dream that won't ever achieve it and if you don't repost you're obviously not going to heaven...  You know, a good ol' Guilt Status.  I'm just not really ready for people to know.

Ha!  Says the girl with the public blog.  But for real, facebook people are different, right?  Because they sort of know you.  Not like real friends who actually know you, or strangers who will never know you.

So instead, I'll share my ramblings with you. 

I'm secretly hoping that this week will be a very ironic week.  One that plays a big role in an actual pregnancy story where I can later tell a little angel how when I really thought I was out, again, and officially diagnosed part of this club of men and women in silent agony, my own miracle was coming true.

These are dangerous daydreams, and I try to keep them to a minimum.  They only make things hurt more.  So after I think these hopeful sweet scenarios I like to cancel them out by imagining a week full of negative tests that only serve to depress me and the contents of my wallet.  And history shows this is the more likely reality.

Even so, in this week so soon before mother's day, I'm going to try to think of the millions of people who are struggling and say a little prayer for them too. Regardless of how this month, or next month, or the month after turn out for me, I know this journey has taught me things about myself physically, mentally, and spiritually that will stay for years to come.

And if you'll join in the cause with me, let's not ask married people if they want kids this week.  Maybe they do.  Maybe they fight back tears when you ask.  Maybe they lie and tell you their husband isn't ready, or they aren't ready, or they're too busy at work.  Maybe they would gladly drink whatever water is knocking people up, or be the magical third in the rule of threes.  

This week, let's think of all the other blessings in the world.  Marriages, sunshine, family, friends, careers, teams, vacations, pink, green, spring and so much more.  All the millions of things that make us happy.  And infertility, rather than a source of awkward embarrassment, be simply an acknowledged blip on a radar screen of so much more.

Sleep it Cool

Do you ever wonder what would happen if you paid too close of attention to details?  Kept track of every little teeny tiny thing you did each day and could chart it on a monthly graph?

Think of what you could know.  How often do you really wear your good-butt-day pair of jeans between washing?  Is there a pattern to when you buy lunch vs pack?  Shower at night vs in the morning?  Snuggle with J-Man vs steal his covers and complain about him slurping a Capri-Sun at 3am?  Or how about how many glasses of water you drink each day?  Fruits and vegetables you consume?  Body temperature at 6am?

Ha.  You knew I was going somewhere with this.  And you probably guessed that since it's been a while since I brought up the whole baby deal, that I'm over it or I'm pregnant and keeping mum.  (Yes, in my reality, a few posts without pregnancy babble is indeed "a while").

J-Man and I are officially getting serious.  Or, serious-er.  Yikes.  It started about a month ago.  I set my cell phone for "daily," which sadly includes weekends, and now wake up to a confusing and loud ding at 6am sharp.  Every day.

Apparently it's good information and can tell me all sorts of things.  And the website that all the hard core TTC folks online use is a wealth of information.  Like, things I never considered I would want to keep track of, it encourages me to. Use your imagination here.

So I should probably note the things most relevant to doctors about what is (or more importantly what isn't) happening, but I'm totally tempted to start tracking crazy stuff.

What do you think?  Any good ideas of things I should record if I do or don't do each day?  This could really be self-discovery, or a little scary.  But the whole deal is already pretty nutty.

And if you aren't hoping for a baby but want some odd information about your insides, see just how cool they get by 6am after 3+ hours of uninterrupted sleep.  98.6 my behind!  Are you cold-blooded too?

Babymorphing

I'm not pregnant.  But if I were, look what a cutie the interwebs say J-Man and I could make

Come on Mother Nature, doesn't the world need an adorable Afro-Eskimo named Nicole the G Jr?

Curious about your own future children?  Check out this baby morphing site.  Just beware, even truly beautiful people with carefully selected pictures can still cause the world wide web to think their kid might actually look like this...

Special thanks to friends who enjoy procrastinating on baby websites as much as I do!

Plan Reasonable

The other day I may or may not have had too much time on my hands.  The thing with this job is, sometimes you want to tear your hair out because there aren't enough hours in the day, and sometimes you spend 40% of your work day googling things like soy isoflavens, HSG scans and infertility testing timelines.  You know, normal ebb and flow stuff.

Needless to say, I had a day with some extra time for google recently, and I went all out.  I mean all out.

I like reading the message boards and the blogs because they remind me I'm not that crazy.  And I like hearing the stories of success, some days, and the stories of hardship but perseverance, other days.  It just depends.

I started thinking about what a process this has been, but how it's probably true that before now it might not have worked to have a baby.  That this probably is the way things are "supposed to be" even if the thought of that comment makes me want to slap people.  I mean, my dearly-loved J-Man and I have wanted this for a while now, but, you know, we also had to move across the country.  We would've made it work, which is why we didn't give up, but you know, hindsight says things were easier with it being two, not two and a belly. 

This of course makes me think the worst, though.  Like maybe I'm not pregnant because, gasp, something horribly awful is wrong with me and I'd be bringing a child into this world right before I'd be taken out of it and what a cruel thing that would be to this unborn unconceived perfect being.  (maybe I've inherited a flare for the dramatic..?)  Or something less fatal, but more along the lines of everyone at my company probably secretly hates me and I'm going to be laid off so this is a protection so that I won't be pregnant with no insurance and have to give birth myself in the bathtub which sounds so disgusting and not natural because we aren't fish.

But at any rate, when I wasn't going down mental paths like those, I decided to inform myself on a few things.  And make a plan.  Which, if you care, I can share privately.

There was the Unreasonable Plan first.  That included secret doctor appointments, taking money from my for-gifts-only, personal bank account and maybe even purchasing some needle-less syringes (don't ask...).  But I had to do the thing where I imagine how the conversation would go with J-Man when he inevitably got the mail with a bill (because that's a husband chore around here) and how he'd be disappointed/frustrated/confused and how maybe that might make him not as excited to have a baby with me. Ya know, maybe.

Granted, I didn't decide this right away, because we all know I'm pretty, um, results-oriented?, but I did eventually figure out that I should create a less ridiculous plan.  So Plan B aka Plan Reasonable was born.  And the conversation went as I'd imagined, which thankfully was good.  And so now we have a direction if, you know, the desirable outcome doesn't happen naturally in our agreed upon window.

I gotta say though, while I miss the days where free internet time meant online scrabble, facebook stalking and game show network's Lingo, I kinda get a kick out of my new obsessions. And as a euphemism, I think I'll stick to terms like "research," "curiosities," and "strengthening my knowledge of the core subject matter."  And J-Man will keep calling me baby crazy :)

Can't Stop, Won't Stop

Today I'd like to make a little confession.  I think I might have a minor, teeny-tiny addiction.

This sounds crazy right?  Being raised in one of the most addiction-averse churches around you'd think the warnings to steer clear of any must-have-really-need-side-effects-be-damned emotions would be easy peasy.  We don't even drink coffee or tea for goodnessakes.  But yet, here I am.

It's true, I walk into a Walgreens or CVS or Wal-Mart and find myself moseying on over to an aisle that only serves as a gateway to bad news.  I scan the options and plop down on the counter (hidden under bags of candy or stickers or other ruses) my over-the-counter drug of choice. 

The First Response Early Result Home Pregnancy Test.

Round these parts they're known as FRER HPT's.  And they're everything an addict should avoid.

Here's the deal, they rope you in by selling more than one in a pack. So you think, ok, I'm curious, let me buy one.  But you have to buy two.  Or sometimes three.  Which, given my track record this past year (year - ugh!) means triple the disappointment.

Then comes the waiting game.  You deal with the aunt you hope won't visit.  Details spared because, well, gross.  Then you do the more rewarding FRER OPK's (another day) and then you start counting.  And reading the message boards.  And scolding yourself for having turned into a little bit of a psycho under the guise of being well-informed.

And, around 6 days after the opk smiley face, you start to wonder if you can pee on a stick yet.  More lingo - don't you feel enlightened?

You see, I get edgy around then.  Even if the past 3 or 4 weeks I've been a splendid wife with a fun-loving disposition, around this time I start to get the itch.  Not physical, totally and completely mental.

I think of the statistics.  I know that you can in theory start to get a faint line on day seven.  I know that most people don't.  I know that the best time to POAS is first thing in the morning.

And each morning I wake up, having to pee like crazy, warm in my covers, and I have a decision to make.  Do I do it?  Do I risk the fact that it could just be too early?  Because let's face it,  if I POAS and it's negative, it could just mean that I didn't wait long enough, and I know nothing.  But, what if it's the opposite?  What if this is the time?  What if I'm about to discover what I've been waiting so many months to see?  What if this could make my day, my week, my decade?

Oh man, and I have to pee.  But I have to decide first.

And that, dear friends, is when the addict behavior comes out.  I know what I should do.  I know what J-Man suggests I do.  I know what the statistics say.  I know how sad it will make me and how conflicted I'll feel.  I know I'll question the validity of the test.  I know I'll feel silly for spending however many dollars just to ruin my day and I know I'll wish I hadn't.

Sadly, as one of my students used to say all the time, nobody's f***ing perfect. 

So I waste the money, hold the test at every angle in the light, curse as I drop it in the trash, pull it out one more time just to be sure, and then act pissy for anywhere from 2-24 hours following.  And when the angry, I'll-never-get-pregnant deal wears off, I'll be counting down until I could/should/will test again.  Because maybe it was too early and I still have hope.

It might be time to stage an intervention. J-Man, maybe you should hide them from me.  Even though I'd go out and buy more.  Maybe I need a program with rewards for each day I wait to test.  Maybe I should lower my expectations and chill out.

At any rate, it's a tough place to be these days. 

My biggest solace is to know that I could be crazier.  There is after all a whole website dedicated to public opinion polls judging HPTs.  Don't believe me? http://www.countdowntopregnancy.com/pregnancytest_gallery/  I'll stick with judging my own though.

Afternoon Crisis

Yesterday there was a crisis at work.  Oddly enough, in the test prep biz, this happens quite often.  I field a frantic call about a locked classroom, a lost exam, a lost instructor...  These are almost the norm.  I have a love-hate relationship with such crises because, while they are a pain to manage at times, they also keep me on my toes.  I have to remember to cross my t's and dot my i's (which I don't, actually, in the handwritten word).  For business sake, for J-Man's sake, and for my sake, I try to avoid those troubleshooting cluster-fields.

Yesterday's crisis was different.  I received a call from an instructor, let's call her Aria, and she whispered like a shattered leaf.  Aria told me, voice shaken, that she couldn't teach that night because she'd just left the doctor and received bad news.

I don't like to be the manager who puts my own selfish needs before those of my instructors, so I asked as delicately as I could if she was ok.  The class and its inherent hour of phone calls, sub searches, and rescheduling could wait.

"I just had a miscarriage,"  she told me.  And my heart broke.

Aria is a great, great, great instructor.  Kids love her.  Parents love her.  In a boss-appropriate way I love her because she makes everyone happy.  She reminds me of a good friend of mine with her slightly asymmetrical, spunky haircut, her nose ring, her capacity for the creative that has always eluded me.  The last time I saw Aria I noticed her nontraditional wedding ring and wondered what guy would be her perfect fit.  In summation, she is a gem.  And she was barely holding herself together on the line.

We hung up and I worked on a solution.  Shift the kids to Thursday.  Reschedule the exam.  Have my support call all the families.  Explain it as a 'medical emergency.'  Check, check, check, check.  Problem solved.

Except Aria was still at home, still in pain, still facing this seemingly unwinnable game of motherhood.  As I thought about her I imagined what it must feel like.  I wondered if she, like I, had been praying for this for months, or years.  I wondered if she had a name all chosen.  If she stood in the mirror when bloated and imagined what she'd look like at 4 or 5 or 6 months.  My own empty abdomen ached in response. How do you bear that feeling?  What will I do if that happens to me?

I think about how much more devastating it must be to lose a child that actually existed.  I watched Parenthood recently and Julia was explaining that the worst part is that every month she starts to believe there's a little one growing inside her already.  She creates a bond with this child, and it ceases to be just a possibility, instead manifesting as reality. So the ensuing PMS is not just uncomfortable and annoying, but a day of mourning.  It's as though she was miscarrying month after month after month. I completely empathized. 

I have to admit, I've taken a peek at the grief and loss pregnancy boards on occasion.  When I get tired of estimating my nonexistent due date and reading cheery messages from all the contemporaries with their BFP's (baby board talk for success) and my heart can't read another story of failed IUI's and clomid cramping, I mosey over to the sadder boards.  I tell myself it could be worse.  And while I know that's morbid, and even a little weird, and maybe not the sort of thing you admit, I also know that I told my readers I loved you this week, so you'll forgive me.

I think about the million things that can go wrong on this journey and I remember that in the whole spectrum, I'm doing ok.  I'm healthy.  Impatient, but healthy.  And if my lady parts don't ever work the way I want them to, I know I'll be ok in the end.  I know that all the cliche things people tell you are true.  "Your time will come." "You'll understand why it took so long one day." "You'll look back at your children and know they are perfect, and came at the perfect time." "You're lucky to enjoy your spouse before kids." All that is probably true.  (Exception: "It'll happen when you stop wanting it so much" - pretty sure that's a load of BS, knowing people for whom it's just plain impossible).  But the rest will feel better when I'm a mother to my own (biological or adopted) offspring.

In the meantime, I'll count my blessings, love my husband, and say a prayer for Aria and her husband too.

Those Baby Blues

I don't know if any of you happen to watch Boardwalk Empire (and if so, if you do it for all the boobs all over the place - goodness gracious!) but J-Man and I got pretty into this first season.  Clearly it appealed to us due to our natural heritage as fellow gangsters.  So while watching the creepy FBI agent and his super stoic wife, we fell upon the only quote I can remember from the entire series.

"Every 28 days the red blood flows"

Disgusting, right?  Did she really have to put it that way?  Just right out there?  Doesn't she have tact?

I looked at J-Man giggling to him as I deeply stated, "Every 28 days the red blood flows"

We laughed, as we like to do.  And then we kept watching.

He was probably following the plot, wondering what twist would be next or what the appeal of whipping oneself while looking at a picture of a teenage girl could possibly be.  I was spiraling.

I get her, I thought.  I totally get this crazy, religious 1920s white woman.  In fact, I am her. I am her 2010 counterpart.  And J-Man is my harsh FBI pro-prohibition, straight-laced husband who thinks I should shut up and wait my turn to be blessed with child.  And those are the flavorless meals I cook for him over which we never have kind things to say. That's totally, totally us.

I must've been really deep in thought because J-Man was staring at me intensely.

I launched into persuasion mode. I told him, that's us on there.

"Every 28 days... that's us.  We just sit here and wait for the red blood to flow"

Insert J-Man's confused look.  Crosseyes, furrowed brows and everything. "ninja, whaaa???"

He laughed, you know, because it was a little funny.  I was in my so-serious-it's-ridiculous state.  It comes out often when babies are up for discussion.

awkward silence

"You really think that's us?!?!"

He was right.  That isn't him.  If you've met J-Man, you KNOW that isn't him.  Pro-prohibition?  Ha!  This man's biggest curiosity with the church is trying to figure out how there could be a God that doesn't love beer.  Ha!  Harsh and straight laced?  J-Man's best jokes are about molestation - Uncle J-Man!  And while he thinks it's funny to call me barren in a goofy sweet voice, he doesn't actually want me to shut up about babies.  He just wants me to talk a little *less* about babies.  Fair enough

Well, maybe it isn't you....

We laughed again.  He's right.  I'm legitimately crazy when I'm baby-crazy.

But for real, days like today I sit back and curse the world.

Every 24-40 days that gd red blood flows. Shouldn't this be reserved for unlikeable HBO characters?