Tuesday, September 1, 2015

New Starts

I've mentioned this before, but I like the start of a new month. New week, new day, new year, any occasion to get a fresh start. With blogging it's because I inevitably failed to blog every day the month before and always promise to try to do better in this shiny new month.

Every day now I wake up and wonder if today is the day I'll feel less like that lady whose son died and more like myself. I hope that day comes, but it hasn't yet. It's been almost four months and I am amazed at how little time has gone by, but to me, it feels like so much time has gone by. I had a baby four months ago, my incision has healed nicely and thanks to my fat roll, you can't even see it. I feel it though. It's like a little itch that I can't scratch, a solemn reminder of the events that transpired.

Every once in a while, when Ducky does something new and adorable, it still makes me want to cry. I put on a brave face for her and give her a hug and stall my tears in their tracks. It makes me feel so guilty that seeing her thrive gives me pangs of sadness.

Hubbs and I have been talking about no longer actively stopping the potential for getting pregnant again (aka stopping birth control and just seeing what happens). We're going for it, it's exciting and scary, but hopefully it all works out. We decided to give ourselves four years after Ducky was born to have another child. We did that, but think it would be nice to actually be able to raise another one. We're sticking to the same timeline, so we have 2.5 years from now to have our last child.

Welcome to the new readers, hello to the long-time listeners. When I started this blog four years ago (Happy Belated Bloggiversary to me), I never imagined that I would be where I am now and experienced an insane roller-coaster of life in that short time. This blog is a little random and sometimes repetetive, now that it's no longer about infertility and more about life in general, it tends to jump around a bit. I hope that somewhere in the medley, you find a something that speaks to you, a common thread that we share. Welcome (and welcome back) to my corner of the land of IF and I hope you'll stick around and join in this journey with me.

Monday, August 17, 2015


I have very limited experience with therapists. I went to one in college because my grades were low enough that it was a requirement to stay in school. It's just weird to me spilling your innermost thoughts and feelings to a complete stranger.

I decided to go this time around because I'm not sure if I'm handling things as well as I could, or should. I don't know how an average person should feel just 3 short months after a part of you dies. I'm not sure how well our first session went, it was more of an introductory get-to-know-you kind of thing where I blurted out all of the things that have happened to me over the years leading up to this moment.

Things I realized about myself (whether I was aware of them before today or not) during the session were :

1. The face I show the world and my true face are not the same.
2. I've spent a lot of my life being emotionally beaten down.
3. I have a problem expressing my feelings and emotions.
4. My personality is a tangle of contradictions. 

I'll be meeting with her for the next few months on a bi-weekly basis. I'm not sure what I'm hoping to get out of it. Maybe a sense of comfort in knowing that it's normal and ok to not be ok all of the time, and allow myself to ask for help. I'm big on being strong and not needing help. Emotions (like sadness) were a sign of weakness, needing help just proves that you're not strong enough. These are things that I need to get out of my stubborn head. 

I guess I can give myself a pat on the back for recognizing that getting through this is something that I cannot do on my own. It is ok to ask for help, it doesn't make you weak, if anything, it means you were strong enough take that first step towards getting better.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Handy Day

There I go again forgetting my blog exists. I've been pretty busy with work and building a little home for our future furry family member. It's been a long time since I got to play with power tools, so it was fun. There was a bit an trial and error as well as agony once I realized I purchased too few 1x2's, but overall, I am pleased with how it turned out.

I started with a pile of wood and supplies that cost around $40 and a used cage I got off of a Craigslist equivalent for $15.
Pile of Materials

I had planned on making the nesting box from Ana White. (Click here for plans). I tried to do the math to tweak the plan of what I wanted to add to it, but had to change my build plan a few times during assembly.

I assembled the frames for the sides/legs first, and went from there. Essentially, you make a sandwich around the vinyl lattice with the furring strips. 
Front View
You can see the ramp that leads in to the weather protection area, which will be filled with straw and other snuggle materials.
Side View
Once I built the modified nesting box, I realized with the way I'd constructed the sides of the base, that I wouldn't be able to attach it to the back. I had to tweak the plan from here, it took a big of finagling, but I think I came out of it all with a decent design. I decided to flip it and have it longer rather than taller, because the bunny will need more laying down room in that portion of the hutch.

Rear View
The back portion of the nest box has a hinge on the top and a lock on the bottom. It'll be easy to open and clean out.

It's a little smaller than recommended, the bunny will have a little over five square feet of living space, but will get plenty of exercise time outside of the hutch as well. All that's left now is to get the feeder and watering system in place, pick up some hay and straw, and go rescue our little friend from the shelter. Oh, and get the HOA to fix that stupid loose slat in our fence. They claim it will be done on Monday, I'm not convinced.

How about all of you? Any build or redesign projects not go quite according to plan but still wound up satisfied with the results? What did you try to build and what went wrong?

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Five Years

Tomorrow, Hubbs and I will have been married for five years. I look at our engagement picture that hangs on the wall in our office, and see bright, young, happy, optimistic faces. Granted, Hubbs and I were a bit older than some of the newlyweds around here, but still young.

Five years later we've journeyed through depression, infertility, anxiety, poverty, joy, heartbreak, growing-up, change, parenthood, and more. We've had days where we'd cry from laughing, and days where we'd laugh amidst tears of sadness. Through it all, I feel as though we are stronger than we ever were. As time passes, we learn from and grow with each other to strengthen our marriage and our family. We open the lines of communication and make an honest effort to empathize with and understand the other's feelings.

Often times, Hubbs and I marvel at the incredible series of events and coincidences in our separate lives that led us to each other. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it plain dumb luck, but it feels like the two of us were just meant to be. I couldn't have chosen a better husband and a better best friend. I couldn't have chosen a better father for our children.He has some of my weaknesses as strengths and I his. He and I, while not perfect, are perfect for each other.

A happy five years to us with hopes and wishes for many, many more. 

Tuesday, August 4, 2015


Hubbs and I rarely fight, and when we do, it's because one of us was stupid and let something insignificant boil inside us for too long and it explodes briefly, then fades.

After five years of marriage, I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing. The majority of the very few fights we've had over the years are something over very minor and we both act like adults and promise to fix whatever it is. For the most part, both of us wind up promising to actually talk about our feelings and stupid things like that.

What are some silly things that you've fought with someone about? For instance, I fight with my parents because they are convinced that Taylor Swift was on American Idol. I have shown them several bits of proof from the grand interwebs, and they, in their old age, are convinced that THE ENTIRE INTERNET is wrong.

Monday, August 3, 2015


I feel like I'm always making plans. Hubbs and I want to buy another house and convert our current home to a rental. We want to raise quail, chickens, rabbits, and possibly snails. We want to learn to garden and grow some of our own food. I applied to go back to school in the hopes of switching careers and doing something useful with my time. Hubbs and I always talk about what would happen if he got his promotion, or if I finally ever get mine. We make plans for retirement and vacations, plans for when Ducky is older.

I'm starting to wonder, in all this planning, am I forgetting about today? I keep thinking about plans for the weekend, what to cook for dinner tomorrow, when to go grocery shopping. Shouldn't I just stop and sit and enjoy what I'm doing now? I'm always thinking about what I should do next before I've even finished something.

Maybe I'll make a promise to myself, as I do pretty much every time the new month rolls around. I promise to take at least a moment, activity, meal, whatever, once a day and really just be present. Just enjoy (or not enjoy) what I'm doing, and focus solely on that and nothing else. Ideally, I would do this during some sort of family time with Ducky and Hubbs, but the day may not always work out that way. Spend the time, be present, do the thing. Maybe "do the thing" should just be my new motto.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Surgery Part 3

Had surgery on my right arm today, about a month after the left one, which was a month after my c-section. Really hoping I can stay out of ORs for a good long while now. Obviously, it's kind of annoying to type with one hand, so I'll take a break until I can type comfortably, which should be Monday.

Hopefully August's posts will be a little less depressing. Hubbs and I have our 5th anniversary next week, Ducky turns 1.5 next week, Hubbs and I have both applied for new jobs, I officially start my second job as a Notary Public, and I just might finally win employee of the month for once.

Thank you for sticking with me in July. I look forward to attempting to post every weekday in August, and I hope you'll come along for the ride.

Sunday, July 26, 2015


Sometimes I'm glad I had to have an emergency C-section with Lumpy. I can look at my scar and remember that he was here, that he was real, and the last few months haven't been just a horrible dream.

I have pictures and little mementos here and there, but a scar is a permanent mark that shows the world that you were once in pain. Sure I have to lift up my little fat roll to see it so I'm the only person who ever will on a regular basis, but it is etched in my skin forever, just as my son will forever be in my heart.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015


I did indeed stop by Lumpy's grave on Saturday. It made me sad but not in an overwhelmingly opressive way. I stood there thinking about him and how much time had been taken from us. Even though I know he's in a better place and not actually there,  not really, it felt weird leaving him. I kept thinking I should stay one more minute and them one minute more and so on. 

I feel a bit guilty now when Ducky does something adorable and new.  It's a bittersweet moment. I'm so glad that she's growing and learning and testing new sounds and abilities.  At the same time, I get a little pang of sadness knowing that it very well may be the last time I see a baby become a toddler and grow in to her own as a miniature,  very opinionated, person.

I sometimes dream that I'm nursing a baby.  When I wake up, I'm so sad that it wasn't real.  Ducky never got the hang of nursing and she was losing so much weight we had to give her high calorie formula every 2 hours for several months.  I had hoped that I'd be able to nurse Lumpy. My boobs definitely wanted to as well, it took almost 2 months to completely dry up.

I feel like I'm trapped in a weird place of mourning for the past, longing for the future, and just trying to make it through the present.

Friday, July 17, 2015


I have only gone to my son's grave once since the funeral. After the headstone was put in, we went the next day to go check it out. Even though I pick up Hubbs at the cemetery, I haven't stopped. Sometimes I'll drive by the section where he's buried, but I keep driving. Tomorrow I have to head up that way, I'm taking my test to be a licensed notary public. I think I'm going to stop by and see his grave. It's still just such an odd thing to comprehend. Since Hubbs works at the cemetery, he swings by and makes sure Lumpy's headstone looks good and that it's always cleaned off. That was part of the decision to bury him there, so that Hubbs could look after him in a way.

Perhaps I just dislike the concept of graves in general. Even as Lumpy was dying and we were just talking to him, I told him we weren't going to be slaves to his grave. I just feel sorry for all of the people I see constantly visiting when I go to pick Hubbs up. Every holiday, every week, you see the same graves with new flowers or decorations. Believing what I do about the afterlife, I just can't see the point in it. My son is waiting for me in the great beyond and he wouldn't want me to dwell and linger on his body, when there is so much more to him than that.