AHHHHHHHH! IS IT NEXT FRIDAY YET?!

So I’m pretty sure our mortgage was¬†finally sent off for final approval this morning (there are so many levels of “approval,” I’m so bullshit…ugh). My stupid processor never ever ever calls or emails me back, and I waited for over a week to hear back about documents still outstanding! Hi, I’ve never fucking done this before. Want to help me out a smidge?!

And on top of that, the appraiser fucked up big time. I don’t even have the energy or anger-management control to talk about it at the moment. It’s all fine, it’ll all be fine, I think, it just required so many calls on my part trying to get SOMEONE at USAA to talk to me and tell me why they were requesting documentation our lawyer clearly said we didn’t need.

*big sigh*

Closing is a week from today. I’m stressed the fuck out. It’s a three-day weekend and I don’t have class on Monday, and no big written assignments due Tuesday (thank god). I’ll be spending this weekend catching up on HW, packing for the move, and relaxing with my husband (maybe).

Sorry this entry sucks. I just have no time or energy. I can’t even… ūüė¶

Back to Square One…Again

I really was going to write more today, but I’m too upset to do so.

We put an offer on a house this weekend that we love. More than the other house.

It was $20k above¬†our maximum offer price. We offered. It’s too low. They won’t budge. We can’t budge.

So we’re shit outta luck, once again. Back to the drawing board.

I’ll write more about this later, but I’m getting so tired of this. We’ve seen at least 20, if not 30 houses. I knew buying a house wasn’t easy, but I didn’t realize it would be¬†this¬†hard. I thought just finding the perfect one was the hard part. I didn’t realize actually getting them to sell it to you for your asking price or being chosen over someone else was also difficult.

The stress is getting to me. My husband is gone again for three days. Less than two weeks until I start my new job, less than three weeks before I go back to school. I’m freaking out. But I feel like I say this shit at least once a week. I’m on repeat, over and over.

So I’ll shut up now. I’ll update another day, when I’m not feeling so bitchy and whoremonal. Cripes.

ūüė¶

The Hits Keep Coming

Where I am: CD15 (3dpo)
Medications:¬†Crinone (and Lovenox, and Oxycodone…keep reading for explanation)
Symptoms:¬†couldn’t tell you


So…this weekend sucked.

Friday, as you know, I was feeling really crappy. I attribute this to ovulating, because I woke up Saturday feeling much better. Note to future self: intense ovarian pain probably means you’re ovulating. Good but necessary pain.

Saturday…well, it started out like this: we met our realtor at a house at 10:00AM. With five to see, it was a big morning. I had to be done by 2:00 as I had a concert to attend with my cousin that afternoon (our first concert ever).

We saw the first house‚ÄĒand we loved it! It is our #1 contender out of the three we’ve seen (why only three?…keep reading). The second…not so great. It’s off the list completely.

11:00AM, I’m driving my husband’s crossover¬†to the other side of town on our way to the third house. We’re talking, laughing, saying we already might not want this house because it’s close to a bad town, we come up on a set of lights in front of a Wal*Mart, I’m in the right lane, the left lane is stopped as the car at the stop line is waiting for a left…

…and just as I am about to pass the first car in the left lane and cross the intersection, a car coming the opposite direction tries to take a left. Right in front of me. I slam on the breaks and swerve, but it’s too late.

Head-on collision. Airbags deploy. I black out for a second. Wake up to J¬†looking like he’s in severe pain, I’m suffocating on the residue from the airbags and screaming at the top of my lungs. Cue the hysteria. Off-duty firefighter hears the crash down the street and comes to our aid. Checks out J, I tell him I’m fine. 911 is called, our realtor (who was two cars behind us) comes up out of nowhere. Offers me water and hugs me as I am hyperventilating. Crying. Terrified. Traumatized.

Ambulance takes us to the hospital. Five hours later, we are discharged: J has abdominal contusions but a CT scan clears him of internal bleeding. I don’t get off as lucky. In addition to serious contusions to my abdomen (are you fucking serious?) and thighs, I have a fracture in my knee. I’m in an immobilizer indefinitely. No surgery needed, thank God. Eventually physical therapy. I see an orthopedist on Friday. I can’t drive because it’s my right knee (and I’m on Oxy, too). So I’m out of work for the week. I can’t do anything on my own, including use the bathroom, so J is going to call his HR office tomorrow and see if he can go off work on FMLA so he can take care of me.

We are supposed to leave for DC on Sunday. How the fuck am I going to enjoy my vacation now?

I’m in the two week wait already. Wondering what the contusions did, wondering what the painkillers are doing. I’m also on Lovenox daily because the placement of the fracture and my fertility treatments put me at high risk for blood clots. I know that won’t hurt pregnancy as women actually take the stuff during fertility treatments. It’s just everything else.

I’ve barely slept. My knee is constantly in pain and when it’s not, I have nightmares. The Oxy makes me drowsy but I only end up half-sleeping, in which I can hear everything going on and still feel pseudo-awake.

I’m angry. Why can’t we catch a fucking break? I’m depressed. Needing to have my husband help me pull my fucking underwear down just so I can pee is degrading. It took me forever to take a shower today. He is doing everything for me. I don’t know where I got such an amazing man as my husband, but he’s in serious pain himself but he’s doing everything for me. We both woke up sore and bruised this morning, which everyone told us to expect.

This entry is so jumbled, but I am literally so mentally and emotionally and physically exhausted. I just wanted to update this so you all could know what happened.

Keep us in your thoughts and, if you’re the type and don’t have anything against doing it for a nonbeliever, prayers. Or send good vibes and juju and luck. After having so much hope and good feeling for this cycle, I am nervous this accident will screw it all up somehow. Be it the contusions, the Oxy, the stress, anything. I feel like our good feelings just went right out the window.

I’ll update again soon, something more coherent and hopefully not clouded by narcotics. I’m still trying to keep the faith, so even though I’m nervous it’s all gone to shit, I’ll sign off with the hashtag…

#teamjunebug (please please please)