It insists on having happened

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81949307389500375152011-11-27T18:31:05.057-05:00It insists on having happenedTo this day it has happened. <br> It insists on having happened. <br> It will never tire of having happened. <br> Nothing will distract it from having happened.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.comBlogger221100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-26070356861633363602010-08-02T07:41:00.003-04:002010-08-02T07:47:58.190-04:00Pregnancy update - 3rd trimesters are for chumps

I am TERRIBLE at this. Pregnancy? Updating? Both, apparently. I kept meaning to update, and did not, so then I went and had a baby at just short of 27 weeks. He is 3 days old now and is doing so, so well. He'll be in the NICU for a bit, but really, we just could not be happier. It was not the ideal outcome, but he's here and his prognosis is great. Birth Story shortly, just needs to be

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-12635280624947712402010-05-15T12:13:00.003-04:002010-05-15T12:46:59.116-04:00On the eve of 16 weeks

Hey, I'm still pregnant! CRAZY.Had a minor scare a few weeks ago, but let me tell you, that is what dopplers were made for. I had bought one a couple of weeks before, so when I started bleeding (bleeding! With blood!) I was able to check, establish heartbeat, and call the doctor on call. A followup appointment the next day confirmed what I thought, a subchorionic hematoma. So all is well,

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-64755153595158056062010-04-12T22:37:00.003-04:002010-04-12T23:05:58.556-04:00Oh, Snap, Here we go.

Hey, been awhile, I suck and all that. It's just that I was SO depressing. And I get bored with being depressing.What I Did Over Whatever Break That Was:Well, I decided that I could not face the idea of opening my heart to that kind of pain again. That if we were going to add to our family it would involve and agency rather than a doctor. That said, we are lazy and, as my husband rightly

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-49136636147060878542009-08-08T19:27:00.002-04:002009-08-08T20:02:54.027-04:00When I said "next time" I meant not really

So in my 3/22 Post, I said "Coming soon: I got an iPhone and won't fucking shut up about it, and the perinatal visit, AKA the How Screwed Are We appointment (spoiler: kindasortanottotallybutdamn)."HAHAHA. By soon, I apparently meant "in 5 months." And that was 3 posts ago. I suck at this, y'all.And I KNOW I still owe you a tattoo pic. All, like, 3 of you. SO - if you promise not to mention

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-89877321034701997542009-07-27T20:06:00.002-04:002009-07-27T20:08:58.956-04:00Got a tattoo

Seemed like the thing to do - I had been mulling it over for right at a year. Pics and explanation to come - need to upload to somewhere more private than a FB link.

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-89560672867116700922009-05-25T10:57:00.003-04:002009-05-25T11:13:06.181-04:00I am an oversensitive asshole, probably

Yep, I am That Girl. The one whose feelings and hangups are everyone else's problem, too. Not really, but a few things have recently made me upset, angry, or resentful, and I'm going to go ahead and get them off my chest.My mom was supposed to call me on Mother's Day. She did not. My sister and grandmother had a big family cookout in the town they all live in, and I know she was there. I

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-10396185705375363142009-05-05T05:49:00.001-04:002009-05-05T05:50:30.957-04:00I can't sleep

Happy Birthday, little one. We love you and miss you every single day.

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-63327703246406949982009-03-22T17:38:00.004-04:002009-03-22T18:04:09.820-04:00Placeholder

I will be back with more detail, I need to, but I have to live inside my head for a bit. Over the last month went from a basically (okay very, despite my affinity for Marlboros and not for vegetables or exercising) healthy person to a walking, talking trainwreck. I am exaggerating, and I know it could be much worse, like something terminal and shit, but if I can't be self-absobed here, then I

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-2053589980158568332009-02-08T22:16:00.002-05:002009-02-08T22:18:58.524-05:00Anticipation

Annual exam tomorrow. About to go Dr. Googling to form my gigantical list of questions.Whatever happens, they will never be able to guarantee I will be okay and survive a future pregnancy, because doctors don't like to get sued. And I don't think anything less that the guarantee of:1) healthy baby2) healthy wifewill be enough to satisfy anybody involved.Fuuuuuuuuuck.

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-58747513426813513442009-01-25T10:01:00.002-05:002009-01-25T10:13:20.953-05:00Anger and deadlines

So the doctor's office told me we needed to have at least 18 months between deliveries. So when anyone asked, you know, all tentatively if we are going to try again (you know, because the third time was so utterly charmless), my stock answer is that I am not allowed to make any decisions until February. That's nine months since May, and pregnancies take nine months, and math is fun!So, in my

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-22786929516248200462008-12-31T13:24:00.003-05:002008-12-31T13:35:05.572-05:00It's been 2 weeks

I guess that's enough time to process.Reproductively speaking, 75% of my dad's kids are screwed. 3 of 4 daughters. On the one hand, it's nice to no be a freak. On the other hand, it makes me even more scared to try again, and also I hate that people go through this.And it's all different for us. One was never able to conceive. One has secondary infertility. Me, well, you know my story.

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-92009495029291152392008-12-13T12:59:00.002-05:002008-12-13T13:04:05.805-05:00Weirdness

This week has been WEIRD. Bit of a mindblower.Just found out that 2 close relatives (there are 4 of us that would be at the same family level) have had various issues in the babymaking struggle. On the one hand, it's nice to sort of have science on the side of Hey, So You Aren't Such a Freak After All, and on the other hand, it's sad for many reasons - I hate that anyone else goes thru this,

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-53792769476561109372008-11-29T22:18:00.006-05:002008-11-29T23:07:03.256-05:00Lose your Illusion

Holy jeez, 3 posts in the space of a week? Man, I am setting myself up for a serious crash and burn here. I do not generally have interesting enough stuff to post a whole lot.So I was at the therapist the other day. You know, the new one, who kicks ass. So I was babbling about my week and crap, because I am a babbler, and not aware of therapy etiquette, and sort of still freaked out that I

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-60888303824607871642008-11-28T15:34:00.004-05:002008-11-29T23:09:33.602-05:00Tryptophan comedown

Not quite yet, because the Husband bought a turkey today. It was $.69/lb, and it's not Thanksgiving if he doesn't get to fry a turkey! Yeah, we southern.Dude, yesterday was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Despite the previous post, it is hard to remember that I do have things to be thankful for. Hard when I am putting up our stockings and there are only 3. Last year, even, there

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-57417146876534671002008-11-25T15:17:00.003-05:002008-11-29T23:02:48.039-05:00Giving Thanks

Yeah, RIGHT.Okay, sorry, humility has returned.Here you go - the things I am thankful for this year:1) For some reason, I always type it thanksful, which makes me giggle.2) I am on vacation. I have the flu, but I am a hale and hearty sort, despite my obvious reproductive issues, so it is a very mild case.3) I guess, that the flu is a mild one.4) that the Kid is 8, which is my new favorite age.

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-49807157332904210642008-11-03T10:29:00.005-05:002008-11-29T23:08:49.918-05:00Memorial

Yesterday was the memorial service for lost babies at the hospital where I had the little one.We had to buy flowers, which wound up being at the grocery store because every florist in my little town conspired against me and was CLOSED on Saturday.I had to decide what the Kid was to wear, and get her some shoes.I had already decided what to wear, but then I tried it on. And then just collapsed

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-77760085494212208402008-10-19T11:04:00.004-04:002008-11-29T23:08:11.638-05:00Anger

Yeah, that is pretty much where I am at.I don't UNDERSTAND. And it's the old cliche: why the fuck can crackheads and all manner of unfit people able to have babies, and I can't? Is it my dislike of vegetables? Did I do something in a past life, like maybe be Mata Hari (she was bad, right?)? What the FUCK?If you know me at all, you know that, in the words of my sister, Jen Has To Know. And I

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-74164678783335749742008-10-11T16:39:00.004-04:002008-11-29T23:05:47.174-05:00Dearly Beloved

I got an invitation in the mail today to the twice-yearly memorial service the hospital holds for lost babies. Apparently we missed the last one by a day - I had the baby the day after the last service was held.This is going to suck SO BAD.I hate it. I hate being on the invitation list, I hate getting the quarterly bereavement newsletter, I hate that my shrink wants me to go back to a counselor

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-72257318130105421212008-09-19T09:11:00.003-04:002008-11-29T23:06:38.560-05:00I hope this thing gets less depressing....

But, you know, it's only been about 4 and a half months. Baby steps, people.Morbid humor is carrying me through. I was IMing a coworker the other day, and we were discussing the election. My coworker is one of my best friends, and she is also a conservative Christian. She cusses a lot, though, and is very tolerant of other views, so I heart her.Prelude: One of the first Deep Meaningful

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-23551498848947130302008-08-30T15:44:00.003-04:002008-08-30T16:13:15.477-04:00Labor Day Saturday

It's still August, so it is seductively hot here in the South. The Husband hates it, because he is from Denver. When we first moved into our Very Own House, where we could control the thermostat, it was winter. We had just signed our lives away and I fell for it when he said we would need to save money in the winter by keeping the house at 70. Come Summer, and every day in between and ever

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-62803037030996055532008-08-16T13:35:00.005-04:002008-11-29T23:10:32.520-05:00Things that suck about when your kid dies

Well, obviously, the kid is dead. That is, indeed, the suckiest part.Other things one may not have thought of:1) people wondering why you are leaving the Maternity center in a wheelchair with empty arms. Although I may have imagined that. In all likelihood, I am not that noticeable and nobody a) noticed or b) gave a shit.2) coming home to the empty nursery that family and friends have

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8194930738950037515.post-90425250212714413382008-08-13T22:32:00.005-04:002008-11-29T23:11:26.863-05:00I just cut off my hair

It feels good. Like a rebirth. Although I might be looking a little too hard for one of those.Indulge me - I would love to be edgy and start off ramdomly, but honestly, when i discover a new blog and there is no backstory, it annoys me. I'm old-skool like that. So here is mine.I was born in South Georgia in the early spring of 1977....Oh, okay. Skip to the end? After 2 miscarriages in a

Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09766563774773085437noreply@blogger.com0