RSS Feed


So first day out on the river husband hits a sandbar, $1500.00 worth of damage to the boat. If ever I need you all to pull together and wish the poops on someone, it is now!!! Because the thing is, I know husband. He was fiddling with the radio, his attention was on the person speaking to him or he was reading an email on his phone. Because that is how husband rolls.



Husband works in an industry in which socializing, dinners and shmoozing are the  norm. On occasion, I have to attend dinners with him and, *ahem*, socialize. Honestly, not my strong point. I get tongue tied and nervous  when having to conversate with these hospital directors wives.  As in any social situation we always manage to get around to the subject of children. In fact, its usually the first thing spoken about, considering it is the one point of interest that many people have in common. Most times in these cases, however, these people’s children are often closer to my age or just getting married or are off in Spain or France or Italy to study abroad. Diapers, nap times, play dates and first grade are faint memories, old photographs that bring a smile to their lips. So when talking about children, husband likes to share Avery’s adoption story. I’m not all that thrilled, and I wonder when her adoption isn’t go to be a major focus of his story anymore. I mean, there will come a point when she’s not going to be too thrilled if he introduces her as Avery our adopted daughter, this is how it all went down. The other part of his story that I am FAR. LESS. THRILLED. ABOUT. is the part where he captivates his audience by sharing my journey through IVF and miscarriage. It is my story. Yes it is his story too, but it is mostly mine. It is still raw and it is still one that makes me cry. And I can not cry at a table with professionals. So inevitably, I have to excuse myself to the restroom, gather my wits and return to the table with a smile on my face.

Well, last night, it somehow got brought up. And I kindly and gently informed husband that I wished that he didn’t speak so freely of my IVF and miscarriages to people that we don’t know or have just met in a purely professional environment. His reaction was not at all what I expected. Instead of responding in a respectful and understanding manner, he informed me that I needed to get over it. GET OVER IT. “You have a baby”, he said, “You need to just get over it. It’s not a big deal anymore.” I started to cry.

I was stunned.

How could weeks and months of shots and medications and weight gain and pain and spending our entire savings be nothing?

How could going to the doctor’s office by myself and learning that the tiny little thing in my uterus didn’t have a heart beat any longer be nothing?

How could suffering from severe morning sickness day after day only to learn that the sac is growing nicely but that it is empty be nothing?

How can two D&C procedures in five months time be nothing?

And so  I explained to him that it was by far the most difficult journey I have ever been on and that it was the worst part of my life thus far. I then told him that he was a narccistic asshole that needed sensitivity training and that I wasn’t speaking to him anymore.

Because here is the deal. I am still infertile. He is still infertile. We are still infertile. AND IT STILL HURTS.

Yes I have a baby now. A beatiful, wonderful baby girl who was brought to us not through biology but through the court system. We love her just the same. There is no doubt in my mind that she is my daughter and I don’t love her a smidge less just because she wasn’t born to me. But you know? I am greedy. I don’t know if I’m done yet. I may want another. And guess what? I can’t just go to bed with my husband when we decide we are ready to try. I have to contact the social workers, have them assess whether or not we are ready for another, have my home re-inspected, and then sit and wait and hope. And once we are placed again, I have to live in fear for 8 months that some long lost relative will come out of the woodwork to steal the baby away. I am still infertile. The fact that I now carry a baby on my hip and can no longer pee in private has nothing to do with my husband’s reproductive system. It has nothing to do with the shape of my uterus or the condition of my eggs.

And my story, my own private story, still hurts.

Infertility and what we’ve gone through doesn’t go away with a baby. The hurt may be less acute. We may not think of it every second of every day like we did before baby. But it is still there. In the back of our minds, we know when we are ovulating and we are still hoping against all hope that a miracle will occur at the end of the month. Even with baby, we are still just infertile women who are lucky enough to, through science or the system, achieve motherhood. We are still sitting on the sidelines, rooting everyone on, being equal parts ecstatic and jealous when a successful cycle is announced. Jealous when one of us “graduates” to the OB, jealous because some of us will never experience a successful cycle and some of us will never graduate to the OB.

Now husband is on the road, off to my brother’s bachelor party, off to have a hell of a time after breaking my heart. And I am sad. And angry. And I hope he gets food poisoning or heat exhastion or something equally terrible but not bad enough to kill him. Because hey, on top of feeling sad and angry, I am also feeling just a tad bit vengeful. And maybe, just maybe, I’d be secretly gleeful if he had to sit on the toilet while everyone else was out having fun.

My heart is also heavy this morning after watching the news and learning of the shooting out in Colorado. I can’t even begin to think of a scarier thing happening then being in a darkened theatre and having a smoke bomb go off followed by gun fire. My heart goes out to the families of the victims. Of course I don’t know them personally, but I was still brought to tears. How selfish for one person, one evil piece of humanity, to snuff out so many bright, shining souls. No matter what his motive, it will never be good enough. No motive will ever truly explain why. No motive can ever justify such calculated cruelty. In the coming days people will wonder. They will wonder about his mental health and his childhood. They will wonder if he lost his job or was failing out of school or if his parents didn’t hug him enough or if maybe his parents hugged him too much. But all of the wondering won’t do a damn thing. And really, if all of the questions are answered, will it matter? Will it bring back those who died in such a horrific way? Will it erase the nightmares of the survivors? Will it take away their guilt for surviving when their best friend or brother or neighbor didn’t? No, it won’t. I couldn’t imagine my children being taken from me, in such an innocent venue, in such a vicious way. There would be no excuse. There would be no explaination that would soothe me.

Anyway, I know that these two subjects are vastly different but they are what is on my mind right now.


I have approximately 2, maybe 3 hours a day to get done everything that I need to get done. Otherwise, as I try to complete tasks, I have a 13 month old clutching my calves, screaming “Ouch, OWWWWW MOMMA, Ouch.” Ouch is the new go-to word when she is not getting exactly what she wants. And exactly what she wants is to be sitting on my lap or to be held. And as much as I try, that is not possible 24/7. There are toilets to clean and carpets to vaccuum and dishes to be put away. So as it is, all I hear these days is ouch.

She is getting better with noises but is still downright terrified of the vaccuum. But I need to vaccuum frequently, as there is nothing she finds that doesn’t go in her mouth. It is a constant battle to one, keep things out of her mouth, and two, fish the things out that she manages to get in. We’re talking anything.

Last week I took both kids, along with my mom and 12 year old sister, on a road trip to Northern California. My Aunt had captained a Relay for Life team, in honor of my mom’s battle with cancer, in her home town. We went, as did my Grandparents and several aunts and cousins.

 Ok, here is where I quickly get my vhenting out of the way. July has been and continues to be an Expensive month for us this year. With the purchase of a new car, my trip with the kids, husband’s upcoming trip to Laughlin, NV for my brother’s bachelor party, and then buying what we need in tuxes and dresses and then a gift for the wedding itself, it has been a lot. I had a budget for my trip. It was minimal, but I made it work and I stuck to it. Enough for necessities and a couple of souvineers for the kids. Nothing for myself but glasses of wine with my dinners. I used my last 10 dollars to buy a latte and a chocolate milk in the last hour of the drive home. As it was known, husband would be needing money for Laughlin. The idea was that he would kick back on his spending while I was away to make both trips work. Let’s face it, taking two trips in one month is a strain on any family, but the relay was important as is my brother’s bachelor party. Husband did not stick to his budget. As I’m balancing our checkbook this morning, I begin seeing all these charges. Gas money for the boat. Sushi. A winery dinner. A visit to a wine bar. These things are not cheap and they are not things that you do, each night of the week when you are on a budget. And so, here I am, once again, trying to make it all work. Husband has no concept of the word “budget.”  It isn’t in his vocabulary. It is in my vocabulary, but is more often replaced with “HOLY SHIT” and “Don’t worry I’ll make it work.” And I am totally in “HOLYSHITDONTWORRYI’LLMAKEITWORK” mode right now. And I am frustrated.

I am lucky enough to stay at home. I was substitute teaching a few times a week before the baby came, but now I’m 100% at home. Husband wants me at home. I want to go back to subbing a few days a week, but he doesn’t feel that it is worth it. But I hate not contributing at least something financially. And I know that I’ve complained about it before, but I have applied for job after job (I say that loosely as this summer there have been 9 NINE jobs in my field come available) and I haven’t gotten a call back, except once, while I was up North and they wanted to do the interview the next day.

I would like to branch out of the field of education, but I need to have the sort of flexibility that being in education gives. I didn’t adopt my baby to work in an office and have her be in daycare from 7am to 6pm each and every day. I’d like to start looking for some writing jobs but do not know where to start and do not know how to tell if the jobs are legit or not.  And then, of course, my old friend, self-doubt, rears her ugly head. I am not a good enough writer. I can’t do it. So, does anyone know of any legit sites that I can find information?

All right well the baby is awake and the ouches haven’t started yet but I imagine that they will be starting soon! I’ll be following along with you all and routing for each and every one of you!



Random Thoughts

Finally got to sleep last night, and I slept well. Only up once with a quick inhaler dose for the big boy. He slept until 9 and the baby slept until about 7!
Husband decided to stay home, which was nice because he let me go back to sleep for an hour or so after giving baby a bottle..not so nice because he tags along with us on our day and then we all have to revolve our day around his phone…

The dogs are getting groomed and we are out at the lake sitting by the pool. We would have left by now but the baby managed to fall asleep


She is sleeping on the lounge chair between my legs, and A has found a friend to play frisbee with in the pool.

No reason to break up the party when everyone is content.

I am reading 50 Shades of Grey, and while I’m not sure whether or not I like it exactly, I still can’t put it down. Have any if you read it? What do you think?

I am also thinking that I finally want to finish painting my living room. The main walls are “creme puff” (cream colored with a yellow base) and I’m thinking of adding in some blue. Any ideas on a good blue? I’d like a grey base but still light in color.
I really like this color but worry that it is too gray to go with cream



Anyway, sorry for the ramble!

Another Day in Paradise

Well for all the swearing he did that he was going to get his act together at the services hearing, I’m surprised that I am saying this evening that bio dad did not show for his visit today.
Visitation consists of waking up early, getting A to either school or to a friend who is willing to watch him now that school is out, and driving one hour to the social services office. I pack diapers for bio dad to use, bottles, food and a blanket for her to play on. I lug all of this in to the office and sit for two hours while they play. (or less if he cuts the visit short, which happens frequently). Today I waited 20 minutes (the required is 15) and then I lugged all of her stuff back to the car and drove an hour back home.
This sucked even more due to the fact that I was up all night with both kids, one teething and one having asthma problems. Both were tired, whiny, and didn’t want to get up. After getting approximately two hours of sleep, I was tired, whiny and didn’t want to get up!!
Since his visits have been lessened to only one time a month, he won’t be able to see her again until mid July. Days like today I just don’t feel the sympathy for him that I usually feel.

The good news is that we got back into town early enough to go to my Aunt’s house and swim!


Baby girl is SO content in the water. And I know I’ve said it a million times, but this amazes me because she was so terrified of it when she first came to us. It is so fun to watch her lazily float around and splash her hands and enjoy it!

Hopefully tonight we will ALL get some sleep and be rested and be a little bit less of a crabby household tomorrow!

I think the fact that husband is out to dinner tonight at a swanky restaurant in an even swankier seaside town and I’ve been with the two crabsters all day means that HE gets to do the dirty work tonight, right?

Quick pics

Future besties: Baby Girl and her cousin. 1.5 months apart, playing at the lake. Baby girl’s “cage” as we call it, is necessary in the sand due to the fact that she eats everything she finds.


Baby girl was crabby today from teething. Big brother went outside and she let me know that she wanted to go out too. Loudly. I took her for a short walk down to a friend’s house where she proceeded to explore every inch of their driveway. This is the dirty dirty aftermath:


We were lazy campers and left the lake to go out to dinner on Saturday night. He insisted on holding her while waiting for a table.


She is actually awake here, but the flash made her blink. She crawled around and stole all the blankets and settled herself on the pillow all covered up. Baby girl loves cuddly softness.



I have a million and one things to do in the next hour and yet I’m sitting here obsessing. Bio dad has decided he is going to fight..for now..
His services termed, he now has to pay for ALL of them on his own. I’m not sure how he is going to swing paying for everything with no job and no home. He has had a falling out with his family because they will not help him.
It is sad that he has no support system, but then again, it’s possible that even they feel that him fathering her is not at all for the best. It’s not just that he is homeless and jobless, it is that he is completely mentally unstable as well. If he got a job, could he hold it? I don’t know. He hasnt been able to yet.
I am so afraid. I hate that these people didn’t care enough to step in when she was two or three months old. I hate that they could suddenly step in and take her now if he is able to talk them into it at the eleventh hour.
I hate that he didn’t just work his damn case plan in the last 7 months before we were even called.
I hate to think that this happy, healthy baby, so different than the one we picked up nearly two months ago, could go back to living in those less than adequate conditions.
I am scared.

She LOVES her brother!