Damaged Goods...

So, it's been awhile. I'm really a slacker blogger, aren't I? I can't help it though, just when things seem to settle down.... things start to go south again.

My *amazingly* calm and collected OBGYN has started me on Prometrium to try and regulate my periods. I take this lovely medication the first ten days of the month, then I should get a "normal" period. I'm supposed to do this for three months, and then she will start me on Clomid to get me to ovulate. After the Clomid, in a perfect world, I will get pregnant with my perfect baby. Of course, before the perfect baby I have to put up with horrific cramps and obscene amounts of bleeding both wonderful side effects of the Prometrium.

I wasn't trying to be sarcastic when I called my OBGYN calm... she really is. Which is a good thing, especially when she has a patient like me who likes to show up to my appointments (or call her office) in near hysterics over my assumptions that I am dying, hopelessly infertile, or anything else. She always manages to calm me down and talk me off the proverbial ledge.

I have to say, my darling husband  has been nothing but patient and wonderful in this. I know he is just as frustrated by this whole situation as I am... if not more because there is literally nothing he can do, and if my darling husband is anything, he is a man of action. And trust me, with all the spotting and bleeding... he is not seeing much action. He does a wonderful job of assuring me that I am not "damaged goods" and that my body isn't turning traitor on me... I just need some time. Lord knows I hope he's right. I just need time. Time and hormones.


***UPDATE***

I had a normal period!!! It had been so long that it took me by surprise... but for once in what seems like an eternity my body did exactly what it was supposed to do. I hope that this continues into the following months. My OBGYN has decided to start me on the Clomid next month. I'm excited and terrified all at once...

The dreaded "Man Cold" and other Maladies....

On Friday night, my darling husband did not sleep a wink. The poor guy then had to drag himself out of bed at 4AM to shuffle off to work for the next 12+ hours. When I talked to him mid-way through his shift I knew he was going to need some major petting and pampering when he got home... there were rude doctors, crazy patients, and even crazier families he was dealing with and all with zilch sleep.

When he got home there was a nice, home cooked meal (porkchops, my husband loves porkchops), some "sleepytime" tea, and a nice foot rub. I am pleased to report, all of this helped and he slept like a baby on Saturday night and awoke refreshed and ready for another day at what he lovingly calls "the evil tower" (aka, the hospital we both work at).

This is what it looks like when I spoil and pamper the DH...

I got to thinking though... why is it that men turn into such helpless, sad creatures whenever they are sick or otherwise sidelined by illness or injury? It's not just my darling husband who acts as if though his man cold is in fact swine flu/pneumonia/tuberculosis all rolled into one, it's all men, and the older they get the worse they act when they're sick. The last time my DH had a man cold he didn't move off the couch for two days except to go wallow in his misery in bed and towards the end, I think he was writing out his last will and testament to prepare what he was sure was going to be his "untimely death". Let me tell you, readers, the only reason for an "untimely death" was going to be because I smothered him with a couch cushion.

It's just the sniffles!

I guess it's our own fault ladies, we tend to be nurturing and maternal and maybe we over do it with the men we love and so they act this way. The flip side is this: whenever I've been sick I've never been pampered and babied nearly half as much as when my other half is ill. Oh, he worries... and maybe he'll throw some cough medicine my way but there's no lovingly made tea, no blankets, no chicken noodle soup! Which is fine actually because apparently, a girl's version of the cold is much less deadly than that of a man.

In the end though, I'll continue to pamper my DH through all his "man colds" and sleepless nights... because truthfully (and I'll never admit this to him), I enjoy babying him.

Spoiled, spoiled husband...

Right after I got engaged my mom and my two grandmothers cornered me and performed what I can only describe as an intervention on me. No, I am not an addict of any kind (shopping addictions notwithstanding)... this intervention was more of a "we want you to buckle down and become a fabulous housewife" type of intervention. You see, dear reader, before I got engaged or married I could not cook to save my life. Both my grandmothers were horrified at the prospect of me being married and not being able to so much as boil water for my poor, unsuspecting husband-to-be or iron a pair of his pants.

My darling grandmothers are both fabulous wives, housekeepers, cooks, mothers, etc., etc.... I was not about to tarnish family tradition by being the first female in my family that would not be able to pamper and pet my future husband in the manner which was expected of me.

I used to love to torture my grandmothers (and my own mother) by saying things like, "I'll make him TV dinners" or "he likes to cook, let him cook for me". And I believed it, as an independent woman of this new enlightened age I never bought into stereotypes of the happy housewife fawning over a husband, cooking and baking, cleaning the house and all that other stuff.

Until the day I woke up and realized I'd been doing all those things, and enjoying myself.

*gasp*

My husband has joined the fold of men in my family that are so well taken care of that if their wives ever went on strike or vanished they would be left to shuffle around aimlessly not knowning how to fend for themselves in the slightest. I cook gourmet meals for my darling husband, I make sure that our home is spotless and beautiful, I make sure he's spotless and beautiful, I pamper and pet him.... in short, he's my spoiled, spoiled husband. I love it, and I know he loves it.

As much as I rebelled against becoming "one of those" women that took on the traditional role of housekeeper and cook and all the other "Suzie Homemaker" duties, I found myself slipping right into that mindset without any difficulty. I found that not only am I good at those duties I turned my nose up at, but I actually enjoy those duties.

And I've come to realize why some women relish their roles as a wife who takes care of their husband so well.... because when you treat a man that good, he'd be an utter fool to leave. =)

And the Beat Goes On....

It's funny how all I can generally think about is getting pregnant... and the minute I stopped thinking about it, it happened.... and then it was gone. I found out I was (had been) pregnant on the same day that I found out I was miscarrying. That is definitely going to be a day that will live in infamy in my life. I knew something was wrong (one does not bleed and hurt like that without something being wrong), but denial is a wonderful thing so I ignored my body for a couple of days before finally dragging myself into my OB's office to make sure I wasn't dying.

I can write lightly about this dear readers (if there are any dear readers) because I am still in shock... and probably some denial. It seems surreal to me to think that I was actually growing a little human inside of me, and now that little human is gone. I guess we weren't meant to meet.

My husband darling has been treating me as though I were made of glass, or some other delicate thing. I don't feel delicate. I don't feel anything (which worries him, I'm sure), except twisted relief at knowing that I am capable of getting pregnant. Now a whole new set of questions try to infiltrate my brain (can I stay pregnant?), but I try not to go there.

So life goes on. It's just me and the darling husband... but now we have a cat-baby (my consolation cat, I secretly call him), Butters. It's us three, and hopefully, a fourth will join us soon. I am positive that I will have my baby, and that baby will be wonderful and healthy and a perfect blend of the darling husband and I.... and for the first time since my baby pangs started, I am simply content to patiently wait for that baby.

Christmas! Yay!

So, I love Christmas. I always have. I blame my amazing childhood with parents who loved me and my siblings, and especially a mother who always made Christmas a BIG DEAL.

As far back as my memory goes, my mother always did Christmas big. Even when we lived in a teeny apartment, my mom always made the place look like Santa's workshop had exploded in our living room. Our *tiny* Christmas tree would go up the day after Thanksgiving, without fail. She would string lights up all over our living room window and the front and back balconies. She sang Christmas carols, wrapped presents, and just went around infecting us all with the holiday spirit.

seriously, this was our *tiny* tree...

My mom also never let us forget that Christmas wasn't just about gifts and Christmas trees and lights... it was about God, about family, and about being together. It's something that sticks with me to this day... I can't begin to imagine a Christmas without my crazy family. Or a Christmas without all sorts of decorations all over the place.

The first Christmas that I was dating my darling husband, I found out that he hadn't decorated for Christmas in a few years... and that he didn't plan to that year. I was outraged. So outraged that I went out and bought him a tree complete with all sorts of ornaments, a stocking, lights for his balcony and all sorts of other Christmas decorations.

This year is our first year in our brand new house. Have I gone a little overboard decorating? You bet your ass I have. And you know what? My darling husband loves it... he loves it so much, he feeds into my craziness by buying me more Christmas decorations, and by making our little house look like a gingerbread house on steroids.

yup...our light bill is going to be a wee bit much...

There's nothing sexier than a man on a ladder stringing up Christmas lights on a cold, windy day and not complaining even once about it. God. I love my husband.

The Tick, Tick, Ticking of a Biological Clock...

I don't know when it happened. I don't know how it happened.... but I sincerely wish my biological clock hadn't turned on. Or, if it had to turn on, maybe it didn't need to be on full blast?

I have become an obsessive recorder of my menstrual cycle, of my expected ovulation days, of everything having to do with making a baby. Soon, my poor, darling husband will probably start calling me the sex Nazi... he'll be one of those men that doesn't look forward to sex, but feels like a slave to his irrational wife's desires for a baby. Dramatic? Possibly.

It frustrates me to think that there are people out there who don't want their babies, who will be horrible parents, but somehow they manage to keep having babies. It's when I stop to think about things like that, that I get angry and I want to lash out at everyone and everything.

I know I would make a good mommie... just like I know my darling husband would make a fabulous daddy. I light candles, I say prayers, I follow the craziest advice from any one of my friends that offer it up. Still, nothing. I try not to stress, and I tell myself I won't dwell on it but I know this is a lie. I know that I will still obsessively count the days until my next expected period, ovulation days, etc., etc.

I can't help it.

If anyone knows how to turn off a biological clock, please... let me know.

Rocky Horror

I've always liked Halloween, but it's never been a big deal to me. When I was little, of course I would dress up and go get candy. It's candy for God's sake!! I've never been one of those people to turn their house into a haunted house and dress all up and just go crazy overboard on this day.... little did I know, my husband is "one of those people".

I should have known something was up when he started getting really excited about all the Halloween decorations popping in stores around town. I also should've known when he started debating what costume he wanted to wear to open the door for the poor, helpless neighborhood kiddos.

Truth time? I had never even carved a pumpkin until I found myself carving one this year with my better half as he hovered over me making sure I didn't lose a digit (or two). Our pumpkins turned out pretty good... especially considering the fact that one of us had never done it, and the other one hadn't done it in years.

the darling husband's pumpkin

my little pumpkin

My darling husband lived in an apartment for years, and he didn't trust the hoodlums enough to leave pumpkins outside his door. He also didn't really decorate for the same reason, but now that we live in a cute neighborhood full of families (and no hoodlums as of yet), he can let himself get a little carried away.

Unfortunately, my darling husband had to work this Halloween, so by the time he got home alot of the trick-or-treaters had come and gone... we got a couple of older, candy hungry kids later on, but not many. His costume will have to wait for next year (I've already been warned, he's taking the day off), and I'm sure it's going to be awesome so I'll keep it to myself until I can post pictures in a year. =)

Ciao.