Night Shift Sucks And Other Stuff

It does suck. Really. Night shift. Much worse than night classes.

At least when Chief was in night classes, he was home at 8:30ish and I had him on Friday nights. Now he’s home at midnightish and I’m already asleep. The last couple of nights he’s been home around 8:00 because the weather has been too bad for flying, but he usually busies himself in other rooms trying to stay awake with projects until midnight at least so that when he DOES actually have to work until midnight he won’t be falling asleep. I get that. But it sucks. It’s almost worse having him around and not hanging out.

The absolute worst is my sleeping, or lack thereof. I have a devil of a time falling asleep without him, and then once I am asleep and he comes to bed around 12:00-1:00 am, I am instantly awake again. I’m such a light sleeper. Then I have a hard time falling back asleep. Then I’m up at 5:00-6:00 am, and the whole process starts over.

Being that yesterday was Fall Apart Thursday (since that’s my most emotional day it seems), I started letting myself spin into a downward spiral, and the only thing that saved me was that some sane part of my consciousness reminded myself that this will only last for four months. This too shall pass.

The other thing that didn’t help was last nights episode of Parenthood. Did anyone else watch that? I won’t go into details, because you know, spoilers and what not. But man, there was NO HAPPINESS to be had in that episode. I needed some happy. Thank bajeesus for Big Bang Theory.

On the upside, I’ve worked out at the actual gym twice this week, which is a hell of a lot more than I did in the entire month of December. I’m planning to go again Sunday. I would normally go tomorrow during after hours (because I’m working 9-6, which just happen to be the exact hours they’re open on Saturday), but I had to get a new military ID card and I haven’t set it up for after hours access yet. That needs to be on my list of things to do next week.

In more interesting news, there is someone new in our midst.




My boss (not supreme boss) now knows about the blog.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t an accident. She has long known that I kept a blog relating to my IF, but I hadn’t showed it to her yet since it started out as just a thing that only Chief and I knew about. But then I found myself talking to her about you guys all the time so I decided to just share it with her. She knows what a high honor this is and is trustworthy, so no worries there.

However, she is deeply offended she doesn’t have a bloggy codename like everyone else. Any thoughts? Her favorite color is orange, she hates cats (I know, I just don’t get it either), she likes Jesus, and sometimes talks like a pirate (she says “yar” a lot). See what you can do with that.

Happy Friday bleeps.


Normal Boobs

Women of the Woeful Womb, I have never had what one could call “normal boobs”.

I had to start wearing a bra with a legit cup (a “B” to be specific) in the fourth grade. I completely skipped the training bra part of life. And I spent most of fourth grade finding ways to go to the bathroom to take that terrible bra off and then put it back on before going home. This is the opposite of how I treated my make-up routine for grades 6-9 until my mom finally told me I could stop sneaking it and just wear it legit like.

And the breasts just kept growing. Like weeds. By ninth grade I was a “DD”. By the time I graduated, a “DDD”-no I couldn’t POSSIBLY have grown tall and thin. I had to be short and stacked. Like pancakes (hmmmm… pancakes). And as I gained weight my breasts got bigger. In January when I started losing weight, I was wearing a 42 H.

I’ve lost a lot of weight in my breasts. When I had lost 30 pounds I went for a measure and was measured at 36 G or 38 DDD, both fit about the same. Well, I’ve lost another 23 pounds since then and I was pretty sure maybe I had lost some more in my breasts. I was hoping to be a “DD” again.

Wrong-o bleeps, wrong-o.

36 D. 36 D!!!

Do you know what this means?! I have normal boobs! I can buy my bras ANYWHERE! I don’t have to spend a mortgage payment every six months on bras! I can wear PRETTY LACY FRILLY BRAS! Guys! GUYS!!!

I have normal boobs.

Before and After Weight Loss

So, I figured it’s time for two things:

1. I’m coming out of the closet. Sort of. I’m not going to broadcast my name/location out there, but I figure if anyone has “found me” that knows me in real life, they have already figured out it’s me. Seeing these pictures isn’t going to be the thing that tips them off. That being said, if you have “found me”, please understand that this blog is so sacred to me. It’s so important to my mental sanity. Sometimes I vent hateful and bitter feelings here. Sometimes I put intimate details about my husband and I’s sex life. So if you’ve found me, please keep it to yourself.

2. I’ve worked my butt off, literally. I’ve lost 53 pounds this year and I’m ready to show you guys the pictures. The after picture isn’t even that great, because the dress I’m wearing in it isn’t form fitting at all-I’m still struggling with that. Chief and I are having pictures made tomorrow so I’ll put some of those up, but I’ve been nervous about them so I thought a before and after post might help boost my confidence. Sometimes I have to go back and look at how I used to look to really appreciate how I look now. Both of the pictures have other people cropped out, which is why they’re close up on me. I didn’t want to get permission from all those folks without revealing to them why I needed it. So without further ado, here is my before (from a wedding last December):


And here is my after (from a wedding last month):

Sammie Wedding

The before is painful for me to look at. I can’t believe I let myself get so big. Hopefully after tomorrow I’ll have a better after picture. I’m still pretty afraid to show my shape in my dresses, so I lean towards empire styles or straight and loose, but in our pictures I’m wearing jeans, which seems to be the most form revealing thing I feel comfortable wearing.

So anyway, that’s me.

Just Another Manic Monday

Except for not really. I was looking for a fun title.

But it is indeed Monday. The worst of all days. Sunday nights have gotten really depressing for me because I just dread the week so much. Without giving too much away to the internet spies (that probably don’t exist), work just really sucks right now. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel is still feeling really long and arduous. Next weekend Chief and I have no plans whatsoever. WHATSOEVER. And no one is allowed to try and give us any. We need a break like the Olsen twins need a candy bar. Also, Cycle Day 12 is Saturday, which is the alleged beginning to my fertile time. I’ll begin OPK’s around CD 10. I may even spring for the expensive ones from the store instead of the little strip ones we all buy in bulk on Amazon. I’ll still use those and just use the store ones when I think the strip ones are positive.

A week from today is my ultrasound to see if anything is happening in the lady parts department. Then I will come to work and work an incredibly long day (9:00-8:00) because my boss is taking two weeks off and that is her late night. And I’m really, really nice and didn’t want to say no, even though if the doctor see’s something happening I will then have to go home and jump my husband like a rabid hyena. Or something. I’ve been having a little, tiny pang on my right side (it just happened as I was typing!) so I’m hoping that something is a-brewing. But it’s wee tiny. I could just be imagining it. Or it could be indigestion.

Good news in the fitness world! I’m going to start running during my lunch hour a few days a week with a friend who works on the fifth floor in the non-fiction department. She is one of the best people I know-literally a beacon of light and positivity when I really need one. I haven’t been working out and while I haven’t gained any weight, I’m certainly not losing any either. And we’re going into the gain-weight time of year. I refuse to get fat again! I just refuse!

Tonight is my last dose of femara. I’m feeling…okay. I was a weepy, fall apart kind of mess on prometrium. That doesn’t bode well for the first trimester if I ever manage to get knocked up. But God (or whoever really, I’m not picky at this point, please let me get knocked up. I’ll sob like a fool every day of that first trimester if that’s what it takes. And me sobbing ain’t pretty. It involves A LOT OF snot.

Poor Chief.

That’s Me Thursday is BACK!

Some of you may remember that, back when I was a good blogger, I had a little something I liked to call That’s Me Thursday where I would tell you three things about me that DON’T have to do with infertility. I think we could all use a pick me up, so let’s do it.

1. My favorite NFL team is the Detroit Lions. AND THEY ARE ON FIRE THIS SEASON. I have a lot of Detroit pride because I got my masters degree from a Detroit university. And the city is in such bad shape and yet has so much to offer. Detroit needs a win y’all. And the Lions are giving them that win this season. I’m so proud of them. Go Lions!

2. One of the big reasons I wanted to lose weight is this: My best friend is getting married in January and we have some mutual acquaintances who are not my favorites. So besides being super healthy and in better shape and just generally more attractive (which are big reasons-I swear), I also really, REALLY, want this one hateful girl and this one guy who I had an on again off again thing with that ended badly to see me and realize how goddamn awesome I look now. And I think that’s the motivation it’s going to take to get me on my feet and working out again. I don’t even care if I lose any more weight between now and then, but I sure as hell am not going to gain weight over the holidays and not be in a size 12 at that wedding. And I wouldn’t mind having less flabby arms. Revenge weight loss may not be healthy, but it’s damn effective.

3. I really am one of those people who never did any drugs as a kid. Really. If I ran for office I could be one of the few people who could be honest when that question is asked. But no one would believe me. Besides never really having an interest in being at all out of control of my body, I also was raised with a healthy dose of fear of the law AND my mother. Having sex as a teenager-sure, my mom was cool with that, as long as we used protection. Cool with it probably seems strong, but she was realistic. But drugs? Oh hell no. That wasn’t going to happen and if it did by no means would it be ok. Bonus fact: I also waited until I was 21 to drink. I know right-WHO THE HECK AM I?!

Happy Thursday Bleeps.

Crucial Junctures

I had a major accomplishment this weekend. I have lost 50 pounds.

50 POUNDS. Putting me down to 159 (which still just feels so high, but I keep reminding myself that we are all shaped differently). I want to lose another 19 pounds. Getting down to 140 would be a dream for me. Here’s the thing:

I’m not getting any joy from working out anymore. I’m really, really struggling with it. Basically, I haven’t been in something like two weeks. Here is my list of excuses:

1. Work has been kicking my ass. I worked another 11.5 hour day on Monday because my boss was sick again

2. I’ve been working through sickness myself, meaning I am more tired after work than normal

3. Frankly, I’ve been a little depressed. I miss Chief like crazy because he’s always in class when I’m at home and I’m just goddamn lonely. I eat cereal at least two nights a week for dinner. When I come home all I want to do is take off my work clothes and crawl into bed and watch TV.

4. I’m pretty afraid of doing anything to mess up getting pregnant. I know that exercise is good for your health and therefore good for conception, but I like to really go after it when I work out, get my heart rate up to 180 and keep it there for thirty minutes. I know I should just go back to the gym and work out at a more moderate pace, but again, I’m struggling. I’m so afraid of messing up our shot of getting pregnant that I wont take any allergy medicine or cold medicine to deal with this little bug.

I’m still watching my WW points which is how I’ve still managed to lose a little. I’ve started a few thirty day fitness challenges at home (abs and arms for right now) so that I’m doing SOMETHING, but I know I need to get back into cardio. I’ve just really hit a wall emotionally and physically and I’m having a hard time moving past it. Part of it is that I’m fairly happy with where I am. 159 sounds high like I said, but I’m wearing a dress size 12 now and pants range anywhere from an 8 (Jennifer Lopez brand jeans run big) to a 14 (but the 14’s are practically falling off after wearing them for an hour). Tops are usually roomy larges. I haven’t started trying on mediums yet because I don’t want them to not fit and then get discouraged.

I’m not happy with my tummy. It’s too big and keeps me from wearing certain silhouettes. And besides wanting that to be better, I KNOW that I feel better when I work out. I should just go out to the living room and do some step aerobics right now. I would feel better about myself. I’m not spending enough time with our dogs (because that would require getting out of bed) so I know they feel neglected. I’m just sort of in a rough spot. Tonight is my last night of Prometrium. Could this be a really extended form of PMS?

Mostly, I just want my husband, but in January he gets switched to night shift at work and will be going to class in the morning, so it will be even worse than it is now and clearly I need to figure out a way to cope with being alone. I live sort of out of town so I never want to do anything with anyone after work because I need to come home and let our dogs out and, frankly, I just don’t want to do anything with anyone. What’s wrong with me?

I’m typing this instead of working out

Because guys. GUYS. I am so goddamn tired and it is just Tuesday.

Sunday night I only got about 3-4 hours of sleep because the cats were out of food (which I didn’t realize until i got out of bed yesterday morning). When the cats are out of food, all bets are off. They go from being sweet, docile, loving furry snuggle babies to acting like gremlin’s who’ve been fed after midnight (except they haven’t, heh. heh heh).

So anyway, yesterday started off in the disadvantage column right off the boot. Then I went to work until 1:30 where things are pretty busy because we’re about to hire a new person (I’m going in early for the next three days and not leaving early because we have about 20 interviews. FOR A PART TIME EMPLOYEE). At 1:30 I had to leave for the HSG.

Disclaimer: My experience was bad. That doesn’t mean yours will be. Don’t panic.

I showed up at the Radiology place where I’d never been before and signed in, did all the paperwork, blah blah blah. Stuff I’ve done, at this point, a million times before. I really wasn’t too stressed out about it. The first thing that gave me a bad feeling was the fact that the TV was on and BLARING Let’s Make a Deal. Now, I’m not saying they should be playing funeral dirges or anything, but at that moment, when I’m about to have a procedure that does have some say in whether or not I ever get to have a baby, I didn’t need people riding around in dragon cars (yeah, that happened) in my head. I also thought that I wasn’t the only one with something semi-serious happening there today, and maybe their choice of entertainment was a little garish.

So anyway, eventually the technician came and got me and I got changed. She was sweet-very considerate. She described everything (as if I hadn’t Dr. Googled it) and said that discomfort levels “vary”. There was also an issue about the fact that the front desk hadn’t made me do a pregnancy test, even though I’m three weeks past my period. I kept having to reassure her that there was no way I was pregnant, I was on lupron and norethindrone, and that for goodness sake if I couldn’t get pregnant for two years OFF of lupron there was no way it was going to happen ON lupron.

Then the radiologist came in. And he was a jerk.

I’ve been pretty lucky in the doctor and nurse department. Everyone I’ve dealt with has been sensitive and kind to how difficult IF is. Everyone else has realized that on some days it feels like a goddamn marathon just to make it through. Just to live your life with the weight of knowing that maybe it’s not going to happen for you. Or maybe it’s going to be fucking expensive to the point that once you HAVE the kid, you can’t AFFORD the kid. Everyone else, but this guy.

He literally TAPPED the speculum three times when he put it in just to make sure it was in there (which HURT). Then he had to yank it out and TAP it in again. I’ve had speculums inserted before (haven’t we all?) and no one has ever tapped it in. I’m sorry, but I call bullshit on that. Then he was just about as sensitive putting the catheter in. Then when the dye went in, I had instant, strong cramps. The technician saw me clenching up and starting to tear up and was understanding, and I know he was doing his job and didn’t have time to come up and hold my hand, but if it had been my OBGYN he would have said “I’m sorry, I know this hurts. It’s going to be over in just a minute. Hold tight for me” Or something to that effect.

Or at the very least, when it was all over, he wouldn’t have yanked the speculum and catheter out, and left the room calling out behind him “Your tubes are clear”.


I’m sorry, but when I’m paying you a lot of money for a new and inventive way to VIOLATE me, you can stay for one minute and say “I know that hurt, but the good news is your tubes are clear. Best of luck”, or some other phrase that would take ten seconds of your time and one small ounce of humanity.

So that wasn’t good. Then I went home and cried, because when I called Chief to tell him I was leaving the Radiology clinic, he didn’t ask how I was, or how it went. He doesn’t do this because he doesn’t care-he does this because sometimes (and I say this with love) he’s just dumb. And don’t worry, I nailed him for it. I reminded him that he’s had to do NOTHING difficult in the pursuit of having a child, in fact, all he’s had to do is have SEX with me, so he can be a little sympathetic and, oh HELL, INTERESTED or CONCERNED in what’s going on. He probably got more than he deserved, but after that radiologist the last thing he needed to do was not ask me how I was or how it went.

So then I went home and got in bed for a little while. The cramping was pretty much gone by the time the drive home was over, but I still needed my bed. I had to do a presentation about the library for work at a home that was 45 minutes away from mine that night, and I just needed a minute to get past the crap that was my afternoon. That meeting didn’t start until 7:45 and I didn’t make it home until 9:30. To Chief’s credit, he ordered my favorite pizza and had it waiting when I got home, despite the fact that pizza is expensive in our area and we are tight on funds until payday this week. I’m not mad at him anymore, but oh hell was I.

I fell into bed about 10:30 and was asleep around 10:31, and when the gym alarm went off at 6:00 am I tried to get up. I really did. I even stood up, walked around the house gathering my gym clothes, but I just couldn’t WAKE up. It wasn’t until around 6:30 that I felt awake enough to even type this, and I have to start getting ready at 7:00, so there was no time at that point to make it to the gym. And this is the first time that’s happened in quite a while. I’m having a lot of guilt about it, because missing workouts is not the way to go. But I’m trying to also remind myself that missing one won’t make me gain back the 46 pounds I’ve lost this year. And I’m going to try to make myself go after work-although no promises on that. I have an eleven hour work day tomorrow and a nine hour one today and Thursday. Friday I’m supposed to have off for Chief’s birthday, although I told my boss if we needed to schedule an interview in the morning we could, but I’d like to make that last resort because, damn it, I need a day. I just really need a day.

And now I have to go to work, and run the marathon again.