Infertility's affect on a couple's sex life.
Now there's a depressing topic!
I have been thinking about it a lot this week for some reason. And even though I'll tell you all about my psychotic emotional breakdowns, cervical mucus, bikini wax, and my girlie bits - its really uncomfortable to talk about my sex life.
But I think I want to. Because telling you things helps me work through them, and to feel better, so here we go ...
My sex life sucks. (stares at blinking cursor thinking to self, what more is there to say?)
Ok, I just wrote about 50 paragraphs and then deleted it. No matter how anonymous I wish this is, or how much I want to just get this feeling off my chest, my sex life with my husband is sacred, and I can't tell you all the things that make it suck so bad.
I don't think he'll leave me over it, and I don't think he would cheat. But it bothers me that this area of our marriage is so shitty right now, and has been off and on during the TTC journey. I want it to be better, I want to work on it, but my sex drive is so in the toilet. It's abysmal. It's like totally non-existent.
Ok, ladies, I don't want details, but seriously, am I the only one who cannot even remember the last time she had sex? Or the only one who has felt the impact of IF in this area? I don't remember anyone ever warning me about this.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Has it really been since Monday since I wrote something? Shame on me.
Day 1 of the garage sale was a tremendous success. The spare bedroom which will be the bedroom for our foster child (if we are approved via the basement loophole) is now empty and ready to be decorated for a child. And everything that was in there falls into one of the following categories 1) sold and is gone forever; 2) will be sold tomorrow between 8 and 12; or 3) will shortly thereafter be taken to Goodwill because its not freaking coming back here E.V.E.R.
Yes, I'm feeling the purge. And the purge is good.
But I have one confession. Living away from here was not all bad. I lived with two co-workers. We drank heavily most every night. We grilled out. We sat by the pool. We swam and danced and ate and sang and lived this carefree life away from home with no bills. And last night, while packing up the last of those 'apartment' things to take to my boss's house for the garage sale, I got a whiff of a scent. Let's call it 'apartmentesque.'
I have a strong sense of smell. Always have. And so I have emotional reactions to smells.
And so last night, the wind was knocked out of my sails by this smell on a blanket that had been in a storage tub since January. It smelled like my work apartment. And I was immediately flooded with this emotional sense of everything good and bad that that apartment has represented. I smelled it again several times today just to go back to that place in my mind. I made my boss smell it. I made her son smell it. They didn't really get it, but humored me. I told my old roommate about it on the phone, and he had experienced the same phenomenon a week or so ago when he finally unpacked some of his things from our apartment. So, I felt validated. That smell means something to him, too. And when I left tonight, the blanket still had not sold, so if I allow one thing to come back, it will be that blanket. Because, I like the way it smells.
In IVF news, today was my last day of BCP for this pack. I start the next pack on NEXT Saturday - which means AF will be here any day. Let the cramping and hormonal rages begin!
Day 1 of the garage sale was a tremendous success. The spare bedroom which will be the bedroom for our foster child (if we are approved via the basement loophole) is now empty and ready to be decorated for a child. And everything that was in there falls into one of the following categories 1) sold and is gone forever; 2) will be sold tomorrow between 8 and 12; or 3) will shortly thereafter be taken to Goodwill because its not freaking coming back here E.V.E.R.
Yes, I'm feeling the purge. And the purge is good.
But I have one confession. Living away from here was not all bad. I lived with two co-workers. We drank heavily most every night. We grilled out. We sat by the pool. We swam and danced and ate and sang and lived this carefree life away from home with no bills. And last night, while packing up the last of those 'apartment' things to take to my boss's house for the garage sale, I got a whiff of a scent. Let's call it 'apartmentesque.'
I have a strong sense of smell. Always have. And so I have emotional reactions to smells.
And so last night, the wind was knocked out of my sails by this smell on a blanket that had been in a storage tub since January. It smelled like my work apartment. And I was immediately flooded with this emotional sense of everything good and bad that that apartment has represented. I smelled it again several times today just to go back to that place in my mind. I made my boss smell it. I made her son smell it. They didn't really get it, but humored me. I told my old roommate about it on the phone, and he had experienced the same phenomenon a week or so ago when he finally unpacked some of his things from our apartment. So, I felt validated. That smell means something to him, too. And when I left tonight, the blanket still had not sold, so if I allow one thing to come back, it will be that blanket. Because, I like the way it smells.
***
In Foster Care news, the big news is the empty spare bedroom which is now ready to be painted and to be furnished with a crib/todder bed and toys and books and diapers. And when I say empty, I mean, one mirror and one drying rack. E.M.P.T.Y. - like my uterus. I still have not heard from the agency who is supposed to be calling to schedule our home visit. But I have marked all the MAPP classes on my calendar and have planned business trips around them.In IVF news, today was my last day of BCP for this pack. I start the next pack on NEXT Saturday - which means AF will be here any day. Let the cramping and hormonal rages begin!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sometimes I Hate Being a Girl
1. No, I did not take that picture of the tornado. But I wish I had. I bet its worth some moola. It was emailed to me by a friend who claimed it was the tornado that hit in Chapman, KS last week. However, according to the AP, it was taken by some old lady in Iowa. But a surreal snapshot nonetheless and I'm glad others were as taken by it as me.
2. The Kansas Department of Health and Environment is in charge of creating the regulations for foster care homes. And as I am as of yet unsure about my loophole, I am going to hold judgement. But if I'm denied because of this basement bull crap, then there may be picketing. And letter writing.
3. Resisted urge to call agency today to pre-discuss basement woes. Am being strong, using my 2ww-must-resist-urge-to-pee-on-a-stick skills to not dial her up. Which is worse - person with basement, or psycho who calls daily because she won't simply wait for her home visit?
4. Had emotional breakdown at lunch today. Eyes welled up with tears. Tears rolled down cheeks. And all over this ridiculous song that is not even remotely about children or love or soldiers dying or any of the other usual suspects. It was "Multiply" by Jamie Liddell (see video below) which is a groovy little tune. So seriously, must be wacky crazy hormonal-ness.
I knew I was blue in the morning, so procured a steak quesadilla and chocolate shake for some emotional eating and was headed to my friend M's office. He had called me at lunch and asked for some help. So, I had planned to stop by his office and eat my lunch with him. And I kept thinking on the drive how I would open up and tell him how grateful I was to be helping him, to have an excuse to do something different, and to thank him for saving me from facing my office. I just couldn't sit in there all day. I just needed a change of scenery for some reason. But when I got to his office, there were two other guys in there. He wasn't patient enough for me to get back to the office, but had asked a male co-worker. And I felt like I had just walked into the boys club, a secret meeting without me. Which on any other day I would have kicked up my feet and joined them, but today, I was needy and strangely weepy, so I needed his undivided attention. So, I said, Oh, you don't need me, and left and then I ate alone in my office.
But later, after I was done being ridiculous, went back to my friend's office and explained my strange reaction. And all is well. He says to me, I'm glad we didn't go to bed mad. Seems he knew I was upset, but couldn't tell why, but figured it was somehow the presence of the others. I hate that he had to see me this way. I hate that I was so put off by such a simple thing. Sometimes I hate being a girl.
And am now tearing up again.
2. The Kansas Department of Health and Environment is in charge of creating the regulations for foster care homes. And as I am as of yet unsure about my loophole, I am going to hold judgement. But if I'm denied because of this basement bull crap, then there may be picketing. And letter writing.
3. Resisted urge to call agency today to pre-discuss basement woes. Am being strong, using my 2ww-must-resist-urge-to-pee-on-a-stick skills to not dial her up. Which is worse - person with basement, or psycho who calls daily because she won't simply wait for her home visit?
4. Had emotional breakdown at lunch today. Eyes welled up with tears. Tears rolled down cheeks. And all over this ridiculous song that is not even remotely about children or love or soldiers dying or any of the other usual suspects. It was "Multiply" by Jamie Liddell (see video below) which is a groovy little tune. So seriously, must be wacky crazy hormonal-ness.
I knew I was blue in the morning, so procured a steak quesadilla and chocolate shake for some emotional eating and was headed to my friend M's office. He had called me at lunch and asked for some help. So, I had planned to stop by his office and eat my lunch with him. And I kept thinking on the drive how I would open up and tell him how grateful I was to be helping him, to have an excuse to do something different, and to thank him for saving me from facing my office. I just couldn't sit in there all day. I just needed a change of scenery for some reason. But when I got to his office, there were two other guys in there. He wasn't patient enough for me to get back to the office, but had asked a male co-worker. And I felt like I had just walked into the boys club, a secret meeting without me. Which on any other day I would have kicked up my feet and joined them, but today, I was needy and strangely weepy, so I needed his undivided attention. So, I said, Oh, you don't need me, and left and then I ate alone in my office.
But later, after I was done being ridiculous, went back to my friend's office and explained my strange reaction. And all is well. He says to me, I'm glad we didn't go to bed mad. Seems he knew I was upset, but couldn't tell why, but figured it was somehow the presence of the others. I hate that he had to see me this way. I hate that I was so put off by such a simple thing. Sometimes I hate being a girl.
And am now tearing up again.
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