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.

😦

There Are Good People in this World

You see, early last winter, I decided I wanted to start a personal blog. Freshly started in graduate school and navigating my second year of marriage and my second pregnancy, I looked forward to the second trimester after Christmas and planned to blog about embarking on my crazy “adult” adventures. I had my second miscarriage before the end of the year, but despite that, I still went live with my blog on January 1st. I befriended random people, people with writing or publishing connections…on occasion, though, I would type “miscarriage” into the topic search bar and look for other bloggers out there who had been through what I’d been through.

And that’s how I met ACalmPersistence.

I followed her blog for a while, super paranoid that I would somehow be “found out” by any family or friends following my blog if I commented personally on her entries, so I tried to be as generic as I could while reading her struggles with medicated cycles and cysts. Finally, though, I decided I wanted to reach out. Desperate for a connection with someone, anyone, that wasn’t a friend that felt bad for me but didn’t understand a bit of the pain I was feeling. It’s funny to think that about six months ago, I was nervous about reaching out to someone about this…knowing what I know now of the RPL/IF community. About how desperate we all are to find that particular empathy that is difficult to find anywhere else. I reread the email over and over and over, wondering if she’d be mad at me for contacting her, wondering if it was inconsiderate of me to mention my own losses as if by comparison, wondering if she would even want to talk about it with me. A complete stranger. An “internet person.”

I was wrong.

What followed was a good string of at least five, if not a few more emails back and forth. I was just starting to navigate my way through the world of RE’s and infertility testing and procedures, and I was terrified and missing my babies. She was in the midst of it and was more than willing to offer advice, and to share her experiences, and just be a generally nice person to me. It was a relief. It was she and another blogger that I became friends with for different reasons (who then suffered her first miscarriage shortly after I started following her) that most likely led to the creation of this blog. I realized that there were others out there like me, suffering in silence and bearing a pain we can’t see or touch. I realized there was a place for me.

And these months, following my second miscarriage and during the seemingly never-ending four months of testing and procedures, held the darkest days I’d had in a while. I was struggling. And getting on Twitter and WordPress, even anonymously, honestly helped me heal. And it all started with her.

And Saturday afternoon, after a few hours looking at houses with my husband, we return home to find a package sitting on our doorstep. What waited for me inside brought me to very literal tears.

photo

“I believe in this for you!” ❤

A little light-up ladybug, a envelope marked “Dear Friend” with a card and heartfelt note written inside, and finally the piece that actually made me catch my breath: a little teething ring/rattle. The very first actual baby gift I’ve received in my life.

I was overwhelmed. I knew something might be coming for me eventually, as she’d obviously asked for my address several weeks earlier, but this…this…I was not expecting! I let out a yelp, as I was sitting on my bed resting when I opened the package, and my husband came in asking what was in it. When I showed him, he just smiled. I told him who it was from and he said, “She didn’t need to do this.” I couldn’t agree more.

But she did.

This, coming not even 24 hours after she announced on Twitter that she’d confirmed her fourth loss. My heart, although happy and thankful, was breaking for her. For someone to be going through her own struggles and yet still take the time to reach out to someone else and root for her the way she has for me…words can’t do my gratitude justice.

I’m sorry, this is an awfully mushy-gushy post. But I feel like I owe it to her. I owe it to her to let you all know how lucky you are to have someone like her as a friend in this community. She truly is a one of a kind person.

Ye Old Obligatory Post

Honestly…

I’m not sleeping.

I’m stressed out at work as I have less than three weeks before I transfer to my new permanent full-time position.

The whole house-thing is stuck in limbo until this weekend when J and I will up and out ourselves to look at yet some more candidates.

I’m panicking about the fact that we only have one car, and I start school in less than four weeks.

I’m panicking about my stupid leg, despite the progress I’ve made (it’s never enough, is it?).

So, yeah. I’m tapped. I can’t even type up a real post for y’all. And writing yesterday’s post about Robin Williams really sapped me of a lot of energy, too. Emotional posts can do that to you.

So, here you go. Here’s an absolute shit post in which I just bitch about how tired and stressed I am. I’ve also been without a husband for nearly two weeks, so, that’s not helping matters.

Roll on, Friday. ❤

The Ever-So-Fun RPL Struggle: Trying Not to Overthink Everything

Where I am: 8w5d
Medications: Crinone
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs, nausea, slow digestion, food/smell hypersensitivity and aversions, congestion, friggin’ hemorrhoids, constipation, are you grossed out yet?


Goodness, I am trying. I really am. But shit, I am overthinking everything in the world.

Like the cramps I had this morning. No bleeding *knocks feverishly on wood* and the cramps aren’t even painful. But I feel it, and I check the calendar on my app to confirm how far along I am (where I am based on ovulation and how far along Lucky Bug is measuring are different so I occasionally forget or get confused), and terror floods like ice-water right through my heart. The impending doom that is associated with feeling like it’s all over smacks me in the face.

It sucks.

(Also, the cramps are/were probably growing pains. Duh. *sigh*)

With every scan, there’s momentary elation. Relief. Happiness. But it doesn’t take long for the dread and fear to creep back in. Honestly, I’m sick of it. But I guess I have to take it as it comes. RPL was the hand I was dealt. I hope this makes me a stronger person in the end. I hope it makes me a stronger mother.

Some things I forgot to mention last time I posted: Crinone and baby aspirin is over and done with as of August 31st. I’ll be 12w3d on September 1st (which hopefully means Bug will be measuring somewhere between there and 12w5d-ish). That’s something to be celebrated! When I think of the fact that I’m barely 9w, the second trimester seems so far away. But when I think of the fact that I’ll be 12w before the end of the month, it doesn’t seem so far. It actually seems alarmingly close.

I feel like with my first two pregnancies, the beginning weeks dragged. I was alone for the first one, and I insisted on waiting several weeks between the first ultrasound and when I actually had the D&E because I was afraid they could be wrong. So that would explain the drag there. And then, with Baby Bean, when I thought I was 8w along, I was actually only 6w along. And then I went four weeks between ultrasounds before the D&E. So I started out moving backwards, and then had so much wait time at the end there. I also wasn’t working, and was only going to school, so I had very little to distract me or help the days fly by.

But with this pregnancy…yeah, sure, the two-week wait time between scans has felt long. But overall, time is passing quickly. I have so much going on, from my leg to house-hunting every weekend to working every week, that the days in bulk seem to go by fast with little pockets of minute-by-minute or hour-by-hour drags here and there. And it excites me that Bug has been measuring ahead consistently since the first scan, so maybe eventually they will change how far along I am on paper and change my due date and I can “time travel” through a couple of days at some point.

Anyway…only 8 days until my scan. I’ll be 9w6d at that point, so hopefully Bug will be measuring consistently ahead a little bit at 10w1d. My husband will still be in training, so my mom will be taking me. I was just discussing it with one of my RPL friends and as I was telling her how panic- and fear-inducing this scan is going to be, I suddenly felt this urge to call my husband and beg him to get permission from his commander to take the morning off to be with me. The thought of facing another loss without him beside me, without him to hold me, is almost more than I can bear. I love my mom, but I don’t think it’ll be the same. I need him.

But I can’t do that. He already has days to make up before the end of the fiscal year, which is fast-approaching, due to the weekend after the accident and the day he took off for the last scan. His promotion is fresh, and I don’t want him constantly leaving duty because of me. So instead, I’m going to try to be strong, and I won’t let him know how absolutely dead-petrified I am, and I’m going to think positive.

Thinking positive means the only sadness that day will be that his second-hand viewing of the ultrasound will have to suffice. (I’m going to have my mom videotape it on my phone.)

OB intake appointment is tomorrow. I’ll post an update in the afternoon to let you know how that goes. I had a Papsmear with my last pregnancy sometime in November, so I wonder if she will do another. I did have bacterial vaginosis at my last one (fancy word for “too much bad bacteria in your vajayjay”) so I feel like at least a pelvic is in order, and probably a swab. I’ve also been subtle about it by only putting it under the symptoms part of these posts, but I’m also having another issue “down there” that she will probably want to investigate, just to make sure it isn’t out of control. I’m just dreading the smear because there’s a potential for spotting.

I don’t care if she warns me ahead of time. I’ve had spotting before between 5-8w with both miscarriages. I haven’t had it yet with this pregnancy and I’m nearly 9w. I will flip a lid if I start spotting, “normal and expected” or not. Ugh.

I have a public post coming up that I’m working on, but I doubt I’ll have another one tomorrow. So I will plan for the public post to have links to this and tomorrow’s post-intake protected post. So check back on the public post tomorrow for the new link. It will be added in there once the new post is up and running.

And that’s all, folks. I’m glad I’ve been blogging a little more consistently. I find it’s the hardest to do so right before a scan, as the nerves and anxiety and melancholy get the best of me and I don’t have the focus or energy to write. So fear not if, next week, I get quiet. I’ll just be withdrawing again, fearful of bad news and just trying to will the days to fly by so I can get to scan day.

Highs and Lows

After an emotional roller-coaster of a morning Friday, my husband and I met our realtor to look at yet some more houses. I believe it was the second or third in the lineup, but we fell in love with a house. Instantly. We liked it more than any other house we’d seen, and it was like we just knew.

This was the house.

Of course, my husband was leaving the next morning for two weeks (annual training), so he signed all the documents Friday night and we made the decision that if my parents “signed off” on it (i.e. didn’t look at me with wide disbelieving eyes and ask why the hell we would be interested in such a dump), I would put the offer in on Saturday morning.

The next morning, my parents and I went back to the house. I still loved it as much as the day before. My parents loved it. Cut to my realtor’s office, signing the paperwork, signing a check for a thousand dollar deposit, and being told we would hear by 7:00PM that night.

Well, I got the call around 6:00PM saying the current owner was a cop and worked weird hours, so we would have to wait until the following afternoon. His realtor then told my realtor that there were three offers on the table. Since we had lowballed by only $4,000, I called J and we decided to go full price. We wanted this house. We loved this house. And we were going to prove it by giving this guy exactly what he was asking for.

Well, apparently it wasn’t what he was looking for.

Our offer was rejected. I found out yesterday evening around 5:30PM. I was bummed.

I just really thought this house was the one. I was so excited. My cousin came to visit yesterday and I spent hours with her talking about how we would decorate this room and that room, and how I wanted to renovate the upstairs bathroom, and maybe put an island in the kitchen in a few years, and blah blah blah.

So, we’re back to square one. Motherfuck.

But when we decided to go full-price with our offer, we promised ourselves that we’d done everything we could to get this house, and if we didn’t get it then it wasn’t meant to be. I have to stick with that, in my head. It wasn’t meant to be. There’s something better out there that’s perfect for us.

It’s Monday morning, and I’m exhausted. I’m lonely; it’s just me and the cats at home when no one is visiting. I barely got enough sleep Friday night as J was packing and getting ready for AT, and then he was up before the sun and I had a hard time falling back asleep. I went to bed late Saturday night and woke up early involuntarily Sunday morning. And then I stayed up late again last night!

Because J is out of town, my mom is picking me up and dropping me off at work. She works 7:00AM-3:30PM, so I have to get up way earlier than I’m used to for two weeks. No fun.

And that’s about it. I’m working all week. Possibly seeing a very good friend this coming weekend. Hopefully having dinner over my parents’ house sometime this week.

I live an exciting life.