Leftovers (Even Though It's No Longer Friday)

It's been that kind of weekend. Sheesh.

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I've been sick this weekend. Fever/sweating/chills/can I please just shave my head to cool off/finally felt a tiny bit better with an ice pack on my forehead and the back of my neck sick. Late Saturday night, I finally got a working thermometer (we 4 and all had dead batteries!) that told me I was at 102 degrees. And I thought I was feeling better. Sunday was much of the same. Today, the fever's gone, but I still feel crappy. I think it's a sinus infection.

Good times.

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Sh.awn...he's going to drive me to drink. Seriously.

He's been testing his limits every day this week. He'll even go so far as to do the opposite of what he KNOWS he needs to do, even when he KNOWS he'll be in trouble, just because I want him to do it. It makes me insane.

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14 days left of work. I find myself in a cesspool of stress and stupidity all the time now. It pains me. I like what I do. I think I am good at it. I used to love it there.

It's amazing how fast things change when you have new people take charge.

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I finally tested negative on an hpt. I have not yet gone to do the repeat beta, too depressing.

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Does anyone watch Revolution? I'm hooked.

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Check out Danifred's blog for more Leftovers. (links tomorrow)

What?The?Hell?

I got this in the mail today.

I had an ultrasound on the 8th that showed no growth. Results were faxed to my OB that afternoon.

I miscarried on the 11th.

I had an OB appointment on the 13th, during which we discussed my fabulous Mother's Day weekend full of bleeding and cramping.

Blood work #2 confirmed declining beta.

We were all clear that there was no hope here; yet someone still felt the need to get an authorization for a c-section anyway.

Worse yet, someone felt the need to get an authorization for a tubal ligation while they were at it.

Not only is this a dagger to the heart, but I am beyond angry about the tubal ligation. I never suggested that I wanted to tie my tubes. It was never mentioned because hello! I was busy fucking miscarrying a much wanted miracle pregnancy.

Tell me this is common practice everywhere, so I don't lose my shit all over again.

Never mind.

It's too late. My shit has been lost.

Sometimes Most of the time I hate doctors.

Le Sigh.

The OB finally called me yesterday to tell me the "stat" results of last Monday's beta. Apparently, "stat" means results will be in a week later.

It was 214.

Of course they want me to test again and chase the number back to 0. I go pick up the slip tomorrow or Thursday, depending on if I can make it there after therapy tomorrow.

I took an hpt today. Still positive. Grr. It's light, though, so I am hoping that the next beta will be close enough to zero that I won't have to do another. Hopefully Friday will be enough time to get me there.

I just want it all over.

I want to be able to squash the devil in my head that has begun to chant maybe lightening can strike again...maybe I'll get another positive soon. It can happen. It just did.

That line of thinking is going to lead to nowhere good.

Sigh.

Friday Night Leftovers on Saturday

We are down to 18 days of school left. I waver between "Oh crap! There are only 18 days left, but I have so much to dooooooo," and "Good God, I don't think I can make it 18 more days."

It has been a hard year.

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I had a repeat hcg draw on Monday. It was stat and they told me they'd call when they got the results. I've heard nothing. Sigh. I know I am likely back to negative at this point. Still, it would be nice to be able to close that door. Know what I mean?

I could go buy a test and check myself, I guess, but I don't want to.

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I finally passed the nun. I figured the universe owed me. Besides, I may have been exhibiting a little passive aggressive anger at my life over the last few weeks. I finally reached the point of who cares if I upset the nun.

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Sh.awn and I had a major war of wills this week. He's back to being a pain at therapy, especially for OT again, so on Wednesday when he started up, I asked him if he was going to scream and make a scene (like usual) or go inside and have fun. He said scream.

So, I sent Ja.son in for his therapy, and took a screaming and crying Sh.awn out to the car. He calmed down at about the point that his OT session was over. I decided that he wasn't going in for PT either, even though he likes PT and rarely fusses.

Be a shit for OT, then the natural consequence in my head was to not get the fun part of the day either.

Thursday, we went at it again. He started up with screaming and fit throwing almost the second I walked in to pick him up from my mom's. I told him to stop, but it progressed into more drama. I ended up leaving the other two at my mom's house and took Sh.awn home. Over the next HOUR and a HALF I did the whole putting him back on the naughty chair every few minutes until he sat there and did his 5 minutes of time out.

Friday and today have rewarded me with a much better behaved Sh.awn. Yea!

The real test, however, will be on Wednesday when we go back to therapy. Fingers crossed that he has learned mommy don't play that.

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Ja.son has been interested in my IPad. I loaded a first grade skills app, which he is loving. He was doing contractions and fractions this afternoon. It's pretty awesome!

Sh.awn is working on a kinder skills app and doing pretty decently on that, too.

That worked against us with the whole school testing thing, though. I'll write a post on that in a few days.

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Jack is now tall enough to easily reach things on our fireplace mantel. I'm running out of high places to put things.

I am amazed at how much this boy can get into in such a short amount of time. I go to the bathroom only to come back to total destruction in every room. The big boys didn't do this kind of thing (obviously), so I it's a huge adjustment for us.

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I got a letter in the mail last weekend that said the boys' pediatrician was closing her business and moving to Oregon at the end of this month. I am not all that broken up about her leaving, but the timing could be better. We are trying to scramble to get their current ped to do all of the paperwork we have to do for therapy before she leaves. That fucks with the time table we are on right now, which sucks. (It still think it's stupid that they make us do this. So much for allowing us to determine when our kids are sick or need treatment. And while I get there are parents who don't do a good job with caring for their kids, we do. Sigh.)

Plus, I am not all that excited about the hunt for a new pediatrician.

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Stop by Danifred's for more Leftovers.

This Takes It Too Far

Got an email from one of the aides the program I coordinate has hired. She's pregnant*. She wanted to tell me early to make sure she'd still be able to work for us next year even if she's pregnant. (I assured her all will be okay in that regard.)

Any guesses as to when she's due?

Yep. The. EXACT. same. day. as. my. pregnancy. would. have. been.

If it wasn't so totally fucked up, I'd have to laugh.

I mean, really?

REALLY?

The universe really thinks I need a live reminder of what could have been?

Sigh. This just takes it too far. A person only has so much strength and resilience. Mine are quickly reaching their limits.

Oh, and universe, let me just say that you suck.

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*I am happy for this girl. She is one of my former students and is a pretty amazing young woman. Still, I could have done without the timing of it all.

Not Yet, But Soon Enough

The last week definitely ranks among the crappiest I've had in a long while. I officially miscarried on Saturday, and somehow I can't help but think that losing a pregnancy over Mother's Day weekend is the ultimate middle finger from the universe.

Sigh.

I thought I was managing things as well as could be expected. I was teary, but not overly so, until yesterday. Oh holy hell how I struggled yesterday. Even the tiniest thing was enough to send my emotions in a tailspin of despair. I did everything in my power to keep myself from falling apart (hello, stupid here went to work yesterday), and by mid afternoon the inside of my mouth was chewed to pieces in my attempts to stop the tears from falling. I barely managed to make it through an OB appointment before completely losing it in the car on the way home. But I survived, which I guess is the important part to remember. Thankfully, Is.aac was kind enough to let me just have some time to have a really good ugly cry last night.

I am not okay yet, but I hope I'll get there soon enough with time.

The problem, though, is that this experience has strengthened my desire for another baby. When I didn't think it could happen without medical intervention, I was trying to let the dream go. Now that it has happened, it's definitely renewed all of the feelings I tried to squash. I can feel myself being pulled into thinking, planning, and counting days until I ovulate like some sort of infertility addict. At the same time, the prospect of hoping for lightening to strike again only to be let down month after month tears me up inside.

It makes me wonder why something like this happens. Is it the universe trying to fuck with my head? Was it just for the experience of surprise? Maybe it's a sign to not give up believing? I don't know. I wish I did.

I'm sure it would make things a whole heck of a lot easier in my head.

The Beginning of the End

Six years ago tomorrow, we were celebrating our first really good beta. On Mother's Day two days later, we learned that the beta more than doubled. That positive brought us our boys.

Tonight I marked the anniversary by starting my period, which as if the ultrasound wasn't enough, removes all hope about the possibility of viability. There is no mistaking that this is the end of a much wanted and longed for "miracle" pregnancy.

Sigh.

I am so angry at the universe...at my body. All I want to do is crawl into my head and throw a tantrum of epic proportion, one full of kicking and hitting until my muscles ache and screaming until my throat is raw. But I don't have that luxury. There are three little people to raise. Work to do. Important school meetings to attend. Holidays to celebrate.

I feel so broken.

This one is hard.