The tragedy of a school shooting

I can’t help but want to bring this topic up, though I’m not sure what there is to say about it. I am an elementary teacher in Connecticut. As far as I know, Connecticut has never had a school shooting, not to mention one at the elementary school level. I can’t seem to stop collecting the facts and details of this horrible tragedy, and I think it’s because I keep imagining it happening at my school, 40 minutes away.

It’s something you never think could happen near you, and I have never imagined a scenario involving an elementary school. But it really could happen anywhere. I think about our security. It was the same as Sandy Hook – our doors do lock after drop-off time, and when you arrive at the school, you have to be buzzed in. At the office, the secretary has a camera in which she can see who’s at the door, and then she lets you in. The thing is – the secretary is going to let pretty much anyone in, at a school. Unless it’s completely obvious they are going to hurt people, why wouldn’t you? They must be there for a student. Or in this case, it was a substitute teacher’s son. I’m guessing it’s possible that the office staff even knew who he was, meaning, of course, they’d let him in. The fact is – at a school, especially an elementary school, the secretary and office staff is going to let you in, because there’s no reason why you wouldn’t.  They had done nothing wrong.

Like I said, I just keep imagining it happening in our building. Our wing is the closest to the office. What if I was fumbling with my key to lock the door and didn’t get to do it in time? What if a student was in the bathroom when I had to lock my door and I’d never know if they were pulled somewhere safe or not?

And then the ages of the kids. I teach 5th grade, one higher than the kids at Sandy Hook. 10 and 11-year olds, like any other children, would be terrified. I can’t even imagine trying to calm them all down, or huddling together. But of course, that’s what we would do. The teachers at Sandy Hook were no doubt heroic, as the stories start to come out. And it kind of makes me feel proud, because that’s the nature of our profession. We are in charge, and fully responsible, of 20+ kids every day from 8:30-3:00. Of course, we would do whatever it took to save their lives. It’s just such a weird thing – I’ve never imagined I’d actually have to put that into practice. And hopefully I never will.

No matter what, it’s scary and horrifying, and my students will probably be all abuzz about it on Monday. It was very close by, and it really could happen in any school.

Anyway, I just can’t stop thinking about it. But in other, happier news, I believe I’m still pregnant. I guess there’s no reason to think otherwise, though I’ve administered some self-control and haven’t peed on a stick for a week. I’m trying to decide how to calculate my beta, for what it should be. It’s on Monday, a week since the last one, which was 338. Should I be expecting it to double that whole time, every other day? Or, I thought as a pregnancy continued, it slowed down? So I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be.

I guess you could say I have some “symptoms”. First, it was my skin. For some reason today and yesterday it’s been a little better, but good lord, it itched. Everywhere. My whole body. And when something irritates my skin, my autoimmune system turns it into a hive, which is what happened on my PIO shot spots. But it’s dry in general around here, and my hands and face are dry as well. I bought a few different lotions, and so far it seems to be helping a bit. Though, my estrogen patches itched too, and putting lotion around them only caused them to move around and leave sticky crap everywhere. But anyway, it’s less itchy today. Boobs are still sore, but that’s just the progesterone. Hey, when you do the PIO shots, is it okay to stick the needle into one of those lumps that form? Because the whole circle is now a giant lump, so I don’t feel like I can avoid it. But I want to make sure the progesterone still flows around. And then, in the last three days or so, all of a sudden I feel like super-crap around dinner time. I’m starving at 5, but if dinner doesn’t happen til 6, it’s like I’m keeling over and dying. Then I eat, fast, and then I feel crappy. And I’m yawning by 7:30-8:00. And finally, last night I had some major cramping and bloating, and I was a little concerned, as the cramps really hurt a lot, but from my little bit of research I’m thinking things are just expanding in there. The cramps hurt like period cramps, but didn’t feel like them. These were lower, almost a heavy, burning type of thing. And they felt better when I sat or was lying down. So I think I’m okay.

It’s been exactly a week since my first beta, and hopefully there will be many more weeks of this to come.

Advertisements

I’m having a quarter-life crisis.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 9:00 at night (which, as a teacher, is basically my bedtime), or the fact that I got up this morning at 4:45 to go to spinning class – maybe I’m just tired.

But really, honestly, I’m miserable.

Driving home from watching one of N’s men’s league softball games (we took two cars) I formed this post in my mind, and I decided I wasn’t sure that I wanted to even share it with you. Mostly because I don’t – know what I want from it. I don’t want pity (I have enough of my own), I don’t want to become the whispers of gossip that spread like wildfire (not that I’m saying you all would…but it just seems to happen sometimes), and I don’t even know what the hell is wrong with me.

But then I decided that if anyone out there can sort of pull me through all this, it’s you. And at the very least, writing it down does seem to help. This is kind of long, I’m warning you.

Here’s the problem: Besides the obvious, I just don’t feel like myself. I’m not happy with my life, let’s face it. I’m of course happy with my husband, my dogs….but not content, not fulfilled. I’m just living and breathing every day, but I’m not experiencing anything. Something is missing. In addition, I feel like I can’t – connect to people like I once could. I have this dark cloud hanging above me, and I can usually fake it, but those who know me know it’s there – and I hate that they know it, that I’m not myself. I feel like I’m letting myself down, because others who once knew me as happy-go-lucky (if not slightly high-strung), now might see me as this negative ball of dust.

So not only am I not happy with my home life, in that it’s all work and no play, the connections I have with people I care about IRL, but also, I don’t want school to end.

It’s pathetic to even say that – what teacher doesn’t want summer?

This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. And I’m starting to notice a trend. My first class ever, 5 years ago, was beyond amazing. They were just – wonderful, supportive, helpful kids. And we all formed a tight bond – there was crying and hugging on the last day and nice notes shared. That summer, which was when I was in limbo – not married, living in a tiny apartment, hoping to keep  my job and get engaged soon, going through the motions – I had a hard time getting over that class. I couldn’t wait to get to school, to see these kids, who made me so happy because they were full of life and energy, jokes and laughter, and I wasn’t, and it helped. But then, when summer came, it sucked.

The following year, my second year, I was engaged and planning a wedding. That class was fine enough, but they did nothing for me. I was excited for summer. They all cried on the last day and I was grinning. I wasn’t in limbo anymore. I had a solid plan (getting married that July) in a house of our own with two dogs. The plan was in place and everything felt perfect. Interestingly enough, I also had no hives or autoimmune issues this wedding planning year. I was stress-free.

So, after that second year, I told myself, the way I emotionally handled the leaving of my first class was just because they were my first, and every year after that, I’ve never gone back to that weird place.

Until now. This is my first year all over again, in a way. I’m in a new school, new teachers, new grade level, new curriculum. My kids are awesome. They make me laugh, a lot, every day, and they are kind and helpful. They are also hyper and messy, but that’s another story. I can already feel the emotions of this school year ending deep inside, just like that first year, except maybe worse this time. I dread summer. I don’t want to be home, cleaning or doing random house projects. I want to be with kids, with my kids, kids who make me forget about this lack of a pregnancy and make me feel important, needed, and in control.

This class is seriously doing more for me, I fear, than I am for them. They are filling a void. And it has hit me all of a sudden. I suppose it’s not just my class – it’s children in general. Not too young, because then I’m reminded that I don’t have a baby. But a little older, when they are funny and amazing, and have baseball games and piano lessons. I want to attend those games, and those lessons.I want to BE their mom. And I’m not – not even close.

I feel odd saying this, but I have never dreaded summer more than I do right now. And there are 5 weeks until that day comes. It also doesn’t help that my students always go to the junior high the following year, so the majority of them, I never see again. It’s very sad. I’m already sad about losing them and we still have 5 weeks.

Again – I don’t even know if I want to post this rambling nonsense. I feel foolish, idiotic, and slightly insane. I’m attached to my students because they fill a void in my life, and that’s just weird. My only hope is that my life follows some type of a pattern (highly unlikely), and this year, the limbo year, is followed by a year of stress-free, pregnancy life. No need to be attached to other people’s children if I’ve got my own.

I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis. Seriously.  Call it an identity crisis, if you will. I’ve said this before, and this is a big issue as well, but I either want to be my age or a little older, with children I’m driving around town, or I want to be young – really young. Like, high school. Or even elementary school. Those years were the best – carefree, mom’s got dinner covered, all you have to do is your homework and clean your room. The innocence of those years is what I think I really miss most of all, and I try to remember my days as a 5th grader. It’s hard to do, and that’s sad, too. I only remember quick little moments, but not the fun and excitement that I see in my own students.

So, either 30 with kids, or 10. There is no in-between, but unfortunately, that’s where I find myself. Hence being in limbo. Hence why I find myself, on Friday afternoons, playing kickball, basketball, or running races with my students. And loving every minute of it.

I feel like a total nut. Completely out of character, definitely not my old self. N used to call me naive, but I preferred optimistic and innocent. I am so not that person anymore, and I really, truly wish I was.

As usual, I do feel better after writing this down. And a new thought – perhaps it’s the Clomid that’s causing my emotions to totally whack out.

I’m on 150 mg, though it’s only the third day of taking the pills this round. Anyone else experience weird emotions while on Clomid?

Hey, thanks for reading. I post this to the internet because I know somewhere, someone can relate, and that makes me feel better.

 

 

My Time

I’m back with a quick update.

I went in for blood work yesterday, and got the call yesterday afternoon that my …something…was 184? It was a new nurse, and the first time any numbers had been shared with me. I said, “What’s it’s supposed to be?” She said when you’re ovulating it’s between 200-400, so 184 was heading in the right direction. (Anyone know what this number is?) Then, she said, the doctor wanted me in today for another blood test (1 day later…really?) and an ultrasound. I never turn down an ultrasound – they are hard to come by!

So, regardless of the fact that today was the first day back at school after a week’s vacation (and therefore I really couldn’t take any time off), I sped to the office 40 minutes away first thing this morning and got them both done. Granted, I was a little late to school, but I planned ahead and got coverage.

Today’s results told me this: I’ve got one follicle, 16 mm. Deja vu? Yes, because that exact thing was told to me about two weeks ago, before I stair-stepped my second round of Clomid. I told the nurse that, and he dug around in there and found what that other nurse had told me was a 16 mm follicle..in fact it was a 16mm cyst. He said it would take care of itself on its own, but yeah, not a follicle. It never was. This time, though, I have one. I should ovulate in the next week, hopefully soon. My blood test came back as well, with the nurse simply saying on the voicemail that my estrogen is “going up” so the doctor would like me to start POASing.

Ha. Like I haven’t been using OPK’s for the last…6 months. I’ve probably spent hundreds of dollars on those suckers. Sure, I’ll start now.

If I don’t have a smiley face in the next five days…back for bloodwork.

I’m a mix of emotions today. You know, I’m kind of getting sick and tired of writing posts where I feel sorry for myself and fall into a funk. I’m sick of being that person. It’s getting old. I want to be happy.

Yet, it’s so hard to think any differently. As more and more of you bloggers get your BFP’s, sometimes I feel like…gosh, it’s so close! It’s right there – I just have to reach out and grab it! Maybe if I wish for it just a little bit harder, it will happen. Sometimes I say, yes, this is going to happen to me. I’m going to get pregnant, carry a baby to term and bring home a beautiful child that will look like my husband and I. I will be quite literally the happiest person on the planet. Maybe everyone else’s BFP’s will rub off on me – isn’t it time yet? Is it my time??

Then, even a minute later, my brain switches gears completely. It’s not happening for a long time, it’s such a ways away, I can’t even picture in my mind what it would be like to actually say the words, “I’m pregnant”.

Back and forth, back and forth. I can’t make up my mind as to what to think.

But I think the truth of the matter is, when you’re struggling with infertility, it is a roller coaster ride. I’m in love with everything baby one minute, the next minute if I see one more infant I’m going to scream. N and I talk about room colors, middle names, what it’ll look like one minute, the next minute I want to clean my brain of everything baby and pregnancy and seriously never think about it again. But of course, I do think it about it again. I think about it every single day, every single hour. And this cycle is a drastic improvement from the past – no google searches and Fertility Friend can’t remember my password. I’m doing better with not obsessing.

I have this new thought that it would be really awesome to have multiples (well, forget this reason, it would be awesome anyway). Of course, I know the risks to mother and babies and I don’t wish for that. It’s a completely irrational thought. I am only going to give birth to 2 (maybe 3, though N hasn’t agreed upon it yet) children. If I have any more after that, we’re adopting. If I had twins, I would never have to go through this again.

What a horribly selfish thought. It’s crazy, I know. I’m just saying, from an emotional perspective – tie my tubes, I’m done. I can only imagine the glee that would come with never having to suffer through this horrible, frustrating journey ever again. I could live life, enjoying what I have, without worry of my infertile future.

Having multiples or a singleton would be a miracle no matter what. My brain just wants a vacation from all the thoughts and feelings I have going on.

I have never wanted anything this badly in my entire life. I’m goal-oriented; when I want something, I go after it. I’ve nailed down jobs, a husband, college programs, dogs, you name it, by using this strategy. But this, this is different. I can hope and wish and mentally squeeze all of my limbs and wonder if that’ll help, but no thoughts in my mind will make me pregnant. To want something more than life, and to be denied it in a slow, torturous way…it just sucks.

I’m not in a funk today, I’m actually feeling better than most days, probably because of my follicle. But I can’t get my hopes up, not even to ovulate. I’m just going to…wait and see what happens.

Thanks for listening 🙂

 

Bitterness abounds, and it’s embarrassing.

A warning – this is a long, rant-filled post. I’m completely indulging in self-pity, and I hope to rid myself of that feeling by the time I’m done. Bear with me. Honestly, I almost don’t want to publish this post. I’m slightly embarrassed by my childlike emotions. Getting them out there, though, might take them right away.

Man, am I pissed off. I’m just – pissed. What was sadness has now channeled into a more thrilling emotion – anger. I’m angry.

Let me preface all of this by stating, again, that I know I don’t have it bad. I really don’t. And I don’t mean to imply that I do. It could be so much worse, and I’m grateful that it’s not. But I can only live in my own world, and experience my own situation. Thinking about how much worse I could have it doesn’t make this situation suck any less.

I’m mad for multiple reasons. I’ll attempt to sort them out.

Reason #1 – this one is a given. I’m pissed I’m not pregnant. Plain and simple. The timing was – impeccable. It couldn’t have been any better. My temps were beautiful. I had “symptoms”. There really should be no reason that this didn’t work. But it didn’t.

Reason #2 – I’m mad that the whole wide world has suddenly come down with a bad case of the pregnancy bug, and I haven’t caught it myself. Horrible thoughts like, “I doubt I’ll be pregnant by the summer” have come creeping into my brain. To be honest, I might have to leave Facebook. At least, I might stop checking it. Every time that I scroll through my news feed I am hit with someone’s baby something. Baby pictures, baby announcements, husbands swooning about their pregnant wives – seriously, I want to throw my phone out the window. I thought I’d be more mature about this, and handle this without excess drama but apparently at the moment I’m incapable of doing so.

Reason #3 (This is the biggest one) – I know I should be forgiven for this, but I am most angry at the fact that I allowed myself to believe, 100%, that I was pregnant. I’m so damn upset with myself for this. Ever since ovulation, I was so sure it happened. So sure, in fact, that I convinced my husband. We set out on our nightly walks, talking about how much vacation time N has, and if he could take off the month of December. Yes, my due date would’ve been Nov.25th. Stupid FF, for even telling me that. He would ask me, “You got a baby in that belly?” And I’d respond with, “I think so!” Stupid, stupid, stupid. It did dawn on me a few times during the TWW that I haven’t yet actually had a positive pregnancy test. Ha, I’d think. Oops. Well, once I started, I couldn’t stop. I was pregnant in my mind, and that’s it. And though I’m ridiculously disappointed, I’m more upset to read my husband’s disappointment on his face. He was so excited. I was so excited. And I convinced him it was happening. I thought my super-ovulation might have even released more than one egg, and we entertained the idea of multiples. We have names picked out (we have for a good year or so), and those names started to be spoken.

There’s a few other, secondary reasons I’m mad. (Gosh, I sound whiny. Oops.)

Last Thursday, in the midst of the end of the TWW craziness, I was asked by another person in my building if I was expecting. Since September, when I started at this school and met a whole bunch of new people, two have asked me if I’m pregnant, and one asked when I would be. Why, why, whyyyy do you have to ask me this?? And here’s the worst part of it – the woman who asked me last week asked because it looked like I was. You know what “you look like you’re pregnant” is code for? You guessed it – “You’re fat.”

Now, this woman is very nice, and I don’t know her from a hole in the wall. I was waiting to pick up my students from lunch and I had my arms crossed. I’m sure my nice little gut was sticking out, and my posture was probably bad. So she looked at my stomach, came over to me and said, “Oh, oh my, are you…are you expecting?” “No..”I replied. “Oh,” she said, “It just looked like you…” Then, realizing her mistake, she started apologizing, and I felt a little bit badly for her, because she has been nice throughout the time I’ve known her. So, I told her we were trying, but no, this is not a pregnancy belly. I’ve just…gained some weight.

Here’s the thing, and I know I’ve mentioned this before, too. I am self-conscious of my weight. I’m mad at myself, disgusted with the fact that I just binged-ate my way through this past weekend and today, and I’m aware that in the past year or so I have formed a nice little gut/butt….and I’m not happy about it. That said, I’m not very overweight. I could stand to lose 10-15 pounds. That’s it. I’m still in the “normal” range of my BMI. I think, though, that people notice that my gut and butt don’t fit the rest of my body. My frame screams that I should be smaller. And I’m not. It’s noticeable. The side view, in my opinion, isn’t pretty. I exercise though, and that’s not a problem. My problem is my food – I eat a LOT. A ton. As much as N, if not more sometimes. And he’s got 45 pounds on me. I emotionally eat. I stressfully eat. I eat when I’m bored. And lately, I’ve been eating when I’m upset and full of anxiety. That’s been, oh I don’t know, the last four weeks. Four months…a year. Two years. Which leads me to my next point.

I’m super-pissed at my body. Why do I have health problems? Why? I have healthy parents, I grew up healthy, what I actually eat is quite healthy, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs, I really barely even drink. I’ve been active all my life, I’ve made good choices. Why, then, in my 20’s, has my immune system decided to do a back flip? I should not have to have a reproductive endocrinologist, a rheumatologist, an endocrinologist, an allergist, etc. I should not have to be sugar-free in order to avoid my lips swelling up like a balloon. I should not have to be punished after eating a cupful of no-sugar added ice cream last night with a face full of lip hives this morning, as I hung my head in shame walking into the gym. For the love of God, just don’t look at my lips. I should not have to make sure my Synthroid goes down with enough water at 5 am every morning to keep my TSH levels at bay. I shouldn’t have to wonder if my positive ANA-titer is going to result in lupus, or rheumatoid arthritis someday. I shouldn’t have to wonder, when a cycle doesn’t work, whether it’s just bad luck this time, or if my endless autoimmune antibodies are at play.

Then again, none of us should have to go through what we go through. I know you’ve contemplated this yourself. I just wrote a giant post that can be summed up in three words – “It’s not fair!” And it’s not. Not at all.

Am I done yet? Yes, almost.

My gym is a brand-new YMCA. When I’m not taking a class, I’m hitting the treadmill. You know what window the treadmills face? The one out into the lobby, where on a Saturday morning there are more babies and toddlers there than adults. And they walk by, and wave, and smile, and parents coo. All while I’m attempting to run off my fat, as my sweat literally (no joke) drips down my arms. Yes, I’m nasty when I exercise.

I’m going to have to face Easter, seeing all my family and N’s family, with not a single good thing to say. I was really hoping to have a good secret. I almost want to hide from the world until I feel better. I haven’t been able to give myself to my family and friends. I’ve always been a good listener, and I like to give advice as well. I like being a part of my family and friends’ worlds. Lately, the only world I’ve been stuck in is my own. I don’t feel like I’ve been a good friend or family member the last few months or so. When I see anyone, honestly, what else is there to talk about? Is there anything else in my life as important and thought-consuming as TTC? No, there isn’t. Nothing else has mattered lately. And I’m not happy about that, either. I used to like my job, and I had other interests. I need to get those back. No one wants to hear me whine again and again, and I don’t feel comfortable doing so. Hence this blog. Sorry to those who get a double dose – on the blog and in real life!

I’m done. Phew.

That was a humungous dose of whiny, “I’m feeling sorry for myself” ranting. I do apologize. I never thought I’d become such a bitter person. I don’t like this new personality trait. I’m going to have to work on it.

And you know what? I do feel better, so thank you. Nothing’s more unpleasant than a whiny, overweight infertile. If I’m going to continue having issues conceiving a child, I might as well look good doing so.

I’m already wishing I didn’t write this post. I feel so much less anger and sadness right now that it’s almost worth deleting. I feel better. I’ve already started the new cycle, after all, and I just need to look ahead. Don’t look back.

Binge eating needs to stop, immediately. I need to count my calories. Work on looking my best, and try to forget about baby stuff. I need to put my bitterness away, at least until next cycle. I need to remind myself why I used to love my job. I need to invest in a hobby that has absolutely nothing to do with pregnancy.

I will learn to love life again, without a child in it. For now.

 

 

6 DPO; “heal”, “soft”, “love”.

I’ve been playing with fire. I’ve been pushing the limits. I’ve been….Googling every little “symptom” I may or may not have. Why? Why would I put myself through this? It’s torture!

It’s torture because I have a few “symptoms” and I didn’t even notice that I’ve been walking around, internally strutting my stuff because in my mind, I’m pregnant.

It’s very dangerous, and I know that. Some days I swear it has to be true, other days (like today) I wake up and think, “What are you doing?” Can’t I focus on something else for two weeks?

Those of you who have been down this road many times before know how foolish I’ve been, and I agree. I had so many months of not ovulating at all. This is only my second time dropping an egg. So yeah, my hopes go way, way up. Especially when I got the timing down very well. The more times I ovulate, I imagine the less I will get my hopes up. I’m trying not to do that, but it is proving impossible.

There’s no going back. I’ve already caused possible future damage, imagining when I will be telling family (Easter is coming up..) and which coworker friends are going to know soon, and even daydreaming of that 8-week ultrasound, to see a healthy little bean. This is all very stupid of me. Very, very stupid.

I’m not even going to mention my little symptoms, because that would give them more credit than I’m sure they deserve. They come and go, anyway. Talk to me in a week, though, and maybe I’ll be singing a different tune. Until then – back to the photo challenge!

I’m a few days behind. Behold, “heal”.

For me, “healing” comes in the form of two specific places; Maine (first picture), and Cape Cod. For those who don’t know this about me, I’m a total sap. Not like a “cry at the movies” kind of sap – but a nature sap. Being certain places in nature makes me listen extra hard for the quiet, peaceful, calmness that in turn makes me feel quiet, peaceful, and calm. I love the smells, the breeze, etc. Whenever I can find myself in a place like this I imagine an internal new-age song playing in my head. In college, being homesick, I frequently imagined walking through an open field with N, taking in the side of a white picket fence and strolling hand in hand. I mean, this nature sap thing runs deep. These particular places are two of my favorites. I try to go to to both at least once a year. My grandfather lives in Maine, and the top picture is off his dock, looking at the lake. At his house, the world is perfectly silent, except for an occasional loon, and we play cards and read until we fall fast asleep with full bellies. It’s my idea of perfection, basically.

The Cape holds many memories, as I went there on vacation every year as a child and teenager. I look forward to having enough money in a few summers to rent my own cottage there for a week, hopefully with children digging in the sand beside me.

Having the opportunity to be in places like this keep me recharged. Whatever might be going on is promptly healed after spending a few days in a place like these. Right now, I’m in need of a recharge. Unfortunately, I won’t be going back to Maine until at least May, and Cape Cod, probably the summer.

Now, onto “soft”. I have a very soft blanket I thought I could mention, but I’d rather take this as an excuse to show off soft, by way of furry.

These puppies of mine are very soft. Sadie’s head is especially soft, but her back isn’t, because she has a few layers of fur. The top layer is a little coarse. Riley’s whole body is soft, as she only has one thin layer of fur. Riley’s picture is not recent, as you can see all the grass behind her. And you can clearly notice the quality! Top picture – iphone. Bottom picture – good camera. Oh well. You get the idea.

Finally, “love”. So many options here, but I’ve decided to go with this one:

My wedding day was one of the best days of my life. Seriously, it was perfect. There’s that nature piece again. I knew I wanted to experience those nature-provided feelings on my wedding day, and it was beautiful. We’ve been married two and a half years, and this trying-for-a-baby thing wouldn’t have even happened had we not fell in love and gotten married. Before children, there will always be the two of us.

Good Little Blogger

Happy Leap Day and Hump Day, everyone. In CT, we’re celebrating it (the leap part, that is) with a snowstorm. While we’re not expecting much by way of accumulation, we did get an early release from school, which allows me to have the time today to write a blog post.

As usual, my thoughts are all over the place.

1) Our school system gave us a “half day” early release. I would just like to say that getting out 1 and a half hours earlier than normal is not a half day. I’m glad to get home earlier, but a real half day would be great. The kids were all excited about the snow and very hyper.

2) I have a big blogging question for you all to answer. Okay, so when I try to attract more people to my blog, I do the proper thing and go out and find other new blogs myself, comment on them, and sign up for their blogs. My hope is always that after signing up and commenting, the person’s blog I’m looking at will do the same by coming over to check my blog out, comment, and sign up. Here’s the problem: I have done this so many times (which has been a huge help to my blog) that I’m now reading over 30 blogs. I’m caught up in everyone’s IF stories, successes, and heartbreaks, and I look forward to reading new posts. However, on a daily basis I have at least 10 emails of people’s posts to read, plus, through the RSS feeder app on my phone, at least another 15 or so posts. A day. I usually try to read as much as I can, and comment on it all, but I’m never completely successful.

I want to be a good little blogger, and meet new people, follow their journeys, and write comments. However, with all the blogs I am signing up to read – I really don’t have time! I like the traffic on my blog. Though it really shouldn’t be about that, and I do write for myself, I like the audience, and I think having one makes me a better writer. So what do I do?

How do you all handle this with your large followings? Did you sign up for everyone’s blog that signed up for yours? I certainly don’t want to be insulting. But I can’t keep doing this, or I will never have time for anything!

3) CD 14 (or 35, if you’re keeping track). We need to keep practicing, and we’re a bit overdue. I know you’re supposed to keep the supply shelves stocked (ha) regularly anyways, but when ovulation seems so far away/never happening, it’s hard to keep up the regularity. That said, my CM has finally gone colorless (sorry for the TMI), and it never really did that last time when I didn’t ovulate, so I’d say I might be getting closer. I keep punching myself in the ovaries to see if it hurts a lot, like it did the only other time I’ve ovulated, and nope, they don’t hurt. Damn. I’m kidding, by the way. But I do lean up against the counter to see if it hurts…because last time I felt a super sharp pain when I leaned up against a counter. OPK’s still suck, and still that second line is lighter than the control line. My temps have been all over the place the last few days, confusing me and sending me into a mild panic, but no, I still don’t think I’ve ovulated yet.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again – I would take the TWW over this crap any day. Waiting to ovulate is torture, because it may just never happen! Waiting for a period – well, at least I can say I tried, I charted, I know what my body is doing, and it’s out of my hands. I don’t feel that way now.

4) I’m hot. No, not that kind, but thank you anyway! Knock on wood, I have had basically no side effects from Clomid. However, after doubling my dosage, I have noticed one actual side effect. Hot flashes. They are almost comical. All week, at school, I’ve gotten so extremely hot all of a sudden, and I open the window, and the kids are freezing! Sorry, kids. Today I was wearing a scarf during the day, and all of a sudden I was dying. Had to take the scarf off and open a window, in the middle of a snowstorm. The thing is – I have also had hot flashes when my thyroid is all out of whack, and my TSH jumps. Those hot flashes leave me literally soaking wet in the middle of the night, nightclothes clinging to me for dear life. Those hot flashes require showers, and then blankets, and force me to check my temperature to make sure I’m not dying of the plague or something. Those hot flashes suck.

These Clomid hot flashes do not suck. The only thing that sucks is that I get hot, often. Maybe 5-7 times a day. But I don’t actually sweat. I just get super flushed. An open window, or throwing back the sheets, does the job. Also, these Clomid hot flashes are short. They last maybe 5 minutes, and then I’m back to normal. It’s really not bad at all, and I don’t even mind it. But it’s funny, how often my students are hearing me say how hot I am during a single day. Is this what menopause is like?

5) Snooki. You know what, screw her. Well, someone actually decided to do just that (Gionni?). I hate Jersey Shore, for the record, and I hate Snooki. And you know what I really, really hate? I hate that she’s pregnant. Yep, knocked up. Because the one thing the world really needs is a mini-Snooki. Seriously, she can get pregnant, and I can’t? Seriously?!

Oh, and Jennifer Garner popped, giving birth to baby #3, Samuel. Uma Thurman is pregnant, as well. Jessica Simpson is due any day now. Anyone else?! Come on, I can take it. So I get home today, flip on the TV, and there’s this afternoon news show on, where a nutritionist is showing off foods that pregnant people should eat. REALLY? I took notes, just for when it’s finally my turn. Kidding.

6) That’s about all I’ve got for today. Talk about random thoughts. But I do have one more thing to say: I love blogging. I’ve said that since the beginning but over the course of time, my reasons for loving it have evolved. In the last 2 weeks or so, I’ve suddenly felt like I know you guys out there! I follow your stories and your ups and downs, and I feel like I really know you. I even share your stories with my husband. When you comment, I know who you are, I know your story. I guess what I’m saying is, in the last few weeks, I don’t feel like we’re strangers any more. We’re all on the same page. That, above all else, might be my favorite reason to blog.

Appreciate what you have.

I’ve found a new reason to love blogging – the support! Tuesday was just not my best, and I let it all out. I really appreciate the support and comments.

I knew I would feel better the next day, and I did. I still can’t shake the negative feelings about this cycle and the Clomid I just took, however. I’m on CD 15 and I have no signs of ovulation. Either way, I’m hoping it will still happen and have been proceeding as was planned! I’m sure my husband doesn’t mind.

I can’t get out of my head the horrible news story from my state of CT. A woman lost all three of her children and both her parents in a horrible fire on Christmas morning. Ashes from the fireplace were removed and put in a container so that Santa could come down the chimney. I really can’t think of anything more devastating. It puts things in perspective..life is short, and I really have it good. Appreciate what you have, and attempt not to focus too much on what you don’t have. I’ve been telling myself this today, and I guess it’s my optimistic thought of the day.

Sometimes I think my brain needs a rest from baby thoughts. I’m not sure it’s possible but I will give it a try.