Monday, February 23, 2009

LA and boys

**Mom, you hate the word 'fart.' I'm going to ask you not to read this since it uses the word quite often. You should probably just know that the entry talks about the disgusting things guys do and why they do them. There will be no softening words like, 'fluff' or 'toot,' since men neither fluff nor toot. They fart. They do, mom! I'm just telling it like it is! So anyway, don't read this. You'll not like what it has to say.**

I spent this last weekend in LA (one of the most disgusting cities in the US) for a soccer convention for CALLE. My opinion of the disgusting nature of boys was confirmed after spending only 3 full days with no other female companionship (apparently they knew better and stayed away). My days entailed a lot of "That's what she said..." jokes, farting, nasty odors, greasy food, hours of analyzing what makes the Lakers tick, SportsCenter, and even nudity (has anyone ever figured out why men enjoy being naked so much? Five minutes after meeting Dane, I was shocked to see him streaking through the parking lot without a stitch of clothes. Well, not shocked so much as puzzled about the reason for the nudity; we weren't really even talking about anything and suddenly he was stripped and running naked through the parking lot. The other guys all laughed and jumped around like Dane was the most clever being to ever think of such a thing; it was like watching a bunch of chimps at the zoo cheer on their comrade as he made an escape).

Boys are just gross. I love Josh, but he's gross, too. I guess he can't help it. When they come with testosterone, they are engineered to automatically do nasty boy things. Take for instance, the iphone. The iphone isn't nasty, but it definitely caters to guys when there are apps that have a hundred and one different fart noises. The truly amazing thing is not that they exist, but that every single boy in that room (all 5 of them) had their very own farting application plugged into their phone. And not only that, but they spent a good 20 minutes listening to each other's and laughing their faces off. "No, no Ty. Listen to this one! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" *minutes go by.... boiterous laughter still ensuing...* "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA......" I might have puked.

Not convinced that guys are disgusting? Go into any men's public restroom. Even corporate office building ones where the men are highly educated and likely live very well. The bathroom has pee all over it, toilet paper is strewn across the floor like confetti, and the smell is nothing short of treacherous. Wonder why that is? Because men are disgusting. Plain and simple fact. And don't ask how I know. I know, okay?

Perhaps the most unnerving part of the trip was when I was sitting on the bed with a member of the opposite sex (I'm leaving names out for fear of possible slander suits), watching tv when he ripped one. A normal reaction would be, "Oh gross! Knock it off," rather than the applause and cheers he received from the other guys. You would have thought the guy had just finished a marathon after being diagnosed with a terminal illness that he was supposed to have died from 6 months ago. They all looked at him proudly, and even a little jealously as he sat there still laughing, at this marvelous accomplishment.

I mentioned that LA is disgusting and dirty, but maybe it has something to do with the large population of men and that's why it is the way it is (too many men and not enough women to spray their girly perfumes and such). I'll look into it. But really. I hate that city. I would offer to burn it down but the fumes would likely cover the world in a mist of darkness and we would be no better than the dinosaurs.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

The herd of Motherhood

So most of you already know, but I'm pregnant (it always bothered my brother when couples would say, "We're pregnant," so out of respect to his oddness, I will refrain). I'm due August 11 and I'm a little over 14 weeks along. I know this isn't a huge shocker, since most people know our story, but since there might be someone out there in the world of cyber space that feels they're out of the loop, I'll fill you in. You should feel honored.

It was my last semester of college, and Josh and I were discussing the possibility of getting pregnant in the next couple of months. I had always wanted to be a mother, but was extremely anxious about losing my identity. For one reason or another, I was certain that once I joined the herd (everyone in Provo is pregnant) of motherhood, I would lose any last bit of personality and transcend into the universal personality of new moms. I was scared.

But after a few weeks of pondering the inner workings of my being, I came to the conclusion that I would always be a brat, with or without kids. I sighed a huge sigh of relief (apparently I like my bratty self) and Josh and I decided we were ready.

I had always assumed I would follow in my sisters' footsteps and just get pregnant the second I wanted to. I was a little confused after a few months when I realized that I was still not pregnant. "Weird," I thought, but figured it wouldn't take me too much longer and didn't let myself get too down about it.

After a year of unpregnantness, I was not only confused, but scared that something was seriously wrong. How could this be happening to me? I lived a charmed life, and was supposed to always live a charmed life. A charmed life did not involve fertility issues. I went to a regular OB who told me that she understood my frustrations, but that it takes time. I left, feeling discouraged and without a single answer, and really wanting to punch this doctor who didn't understand that I was coming from a charmed life. Basically, I should have been concerned when I called the doctor's office and she had immediate openings. She would have accepted a female goat if the goat had called.

As time went on, I went to another doctor who prescribed me with Clomid (a fertility drug that sparks ovulation). I used it for a while, but was finding myself still not pregnant. I tried to figure out if the little magic pills were really just sugar pills, but decided that my degree in social work did not qualify me for such work. Obviously, I needed a specialist.

After two years of no success, I ended up seeing Dr. Samuel Wood, a reproductive endocronologist. After a lot of tests and a lot of drugs, we ended up doing IUI, intrauterine inseminations, basically, artificial insemination. Ever heard of Jon and Kate plus 8? Yeah, we did the same thing as they did. They got six, we got one. We're pretty glad about that. Although, if we got a tv show and got paid for it, we might still never want to do it.

Josh thinks fondly of the experience, and remembers as he sat perched on a chair in the room with me, as another man got me pregnant. After the doctor left, we sat there laughing as we joked about how unconventional the entire situation was. Oh, and anyone who has a problem with western medicine has obviously not had fertility problems.

After a couple weeks (I think it was 2?), I went and got my HcG levels measured. They told me that not only was I pregnant, but that my levels were extremely high. I didn't know what that meant, but they said there was a chance of it meaning there was multiples. I didn't know what to think, so I didn't think anything, and just worked on not getting my hopes up.

So we're pregnant, and pretty stoked about it. But I'm ultra nervous about miscarrying this little baby or babies. We spent so much time and money on the little creature, I didn't want to jinx it by telling too many people. At about 5 weeks, I panic when I start showing signs of miscarriage. After a few days, I'm 99% sure that I did miscarry. I call the doctor and let them know the news. The nurse told me to come in, and they would measure my HcG levels again. They measure my levels, where I pass out during the blood test, and they report that my levels are still high, but not quite as high as they were, meaning that I had miscarried, but still had another baby in there. I was relieved, but kind of sad about the would-be twin of my baby.

I know this is a long entry and I've left out a lot of details, but this is the jist of it. I won't be posting any baby clock things or anything like that, because I know how depressing it was for me to see those subtle reminders on everyone else's blogs that I couldn't get pregnant and everyone else could with little or no problem.

The entire situation was hard and frustrating (especially in the early days when the doctor gave us a 'schedule,' and we had been having WWIII in our house, and we were somehow supposed to maintain our schedule; that was honestly the worst. We would say things like, "Let's just get this over with before I cut your heart out!"), but we're all given trials in this life and this was one of mine. Hopefully, it made me strong enough to be able to face the next one. Hopefully, the next trial won't be for a while.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Fun in the sun

These pictures are from last Saturday, where we enjoyed our amazing weather here in San Diego. I grew up with cold winters, and never thought much about it. Having spent a winter without scraping windshields, I really have to rethink my whole attitude. I might just become one of those weather snobs, like the rest of the citizens of Southern California.

Here is me petting a starfish. My sister said this picture is disgusting because of all the mussels surrounding the starfish, but I disagree. I think the mussels are wonderful.