Friday, 31 October 2014

Dazed and Confused

Yesterday I had a stupid day.  At various times throughout the day I couldn't figure out what time it was (as in "have we already had lunch?" -we hadn't).  Or what day it was (turns out it was Thursday not Friday).  Or what I was doing, or which vineyard I was doing it in.  It wasn't all the time, but it was a bit more frequent than usual.  Yes, I often walk into a room and forget what I went in there for, but it isn't common for me to repeat that five times in a row before I figure it out or give up. was a Friday for sure.  We are shoot thinning at work (in the vineyards), which is pretty much just popping off some of the new growth so that the vines have a manageable amount of fruit on shoots well-spaced to prevent disease.  It is a bit more complicated than that, but I generally find it easy.  Not today.  Today it was cock-up after cock-up.  I needed to keep four shoots in the head of the vine (which is sort of the middle of it), and I would look at the four, count five, take one off, and end up with three.  And it happened a few times.  And I am supposed to be helping others and checking their work.  But I can't even get it right today.  My brain is fried. 

I am exhausted.  My allergies are on a serious rampage.  Between the sneezing, the runny and stuffy nose, and the watery eyes, I am rather miserable.  I haven't renewed my allergy med prescription because I don't want to dry up what little CM I manage to produce (seriously, all that EWCM is up my nose...I already told the Moose I think we might be doing this wrong, but I don't want to end up with large nostrils...I think I scared him with that).
So.  6dpo.  Way too early for any of my "symptoms" to mean anything.  My stupid brain is easily explained by work, the exhaustion as well (with the added allergies).  I don't have any real positive feelings about this cycle.  But I will no doubt be peeing on all the things by 10dpo.  Ah well.  Let the insanity begin.  But maybe tomorrow...I am so tired I think I had best get to bed before I forget and end up staying up way too late. 

Sunday, 26 October 2014


I have a confession to make. 

I never finish anything I start.

  • Man-Uptober was a bust by day 6.
  • I was going to make a dress for the local Trashion Show (which was this weekend), and had planned it out and collected rubbish and even snagged a model.  I cut a few pieces of builder's paper to length and never did anything else, despite having something like 5 months to work on it.
  • I bought canvases and paints, and have spent a total of one morning painting.  Almost a victory for me.
  • I once bought beads and all sorts of stuff for making jewelry, but stopped after a month or so.
  • Years and years ago, I got my hands on a second hand trumpet, and a bamboo flute, and a guitar.  Because I would teach myself to play them, of course.  Which I never did.  I used to play the saxophone, but I am not naturally musical. 
  • The biggest unfinished thing in my life, though, is writing.  I have been writing since I was 12 or 13 years old, when I decided I wanted to be an author.  Guess how many novels, short stories, essays, etc I have finished.  0.  If I get close, I rip it up and start again.  In all honesty though, I doubt a 12 or 13 year old could actually write a publishable novel.  I certainly couldn't.
It doesn't seem to matter if I set deadlines for myself, if I have someone else to keep me on task, or if there is some concrete deadline.  I just can't commit.  Sometimes I get bored, sometimes I lose confidence in my abilities, sometimes I am just easily distracted.  Maybe I try too many things at once and set out to fail immediately.  Or perhaps my love is in the dreaming, that imagining doing something is somehow better than actually doing it.  It is something that drives me a little bit crazy about myself.

Some months ago I decided I would run the local 10k in October.  I started training.  I ran a 5k, then a 6k.  Then my running kept delaying my ovulation and throwing off our timing, and I cut back.  Then I sort of stopped any sort of regular running.  Getting in a family way seemed more important than that 10k goal.  Maybe it is, maybe it isn't.  It is something I have been debating for quite some time.  But instead of piking out, which I really, really wanted to do (and I had a few excuses on hand just ready to be used), today I walked the 10k.  As in power walked.  With no real training leading up to it.  Yes, I was doing it with a friend, who was going to run with me, but her training sort of stopped when mine did, and she really wanted to do it.  But I still could have backed out.  Disappointing her probably wouldn't have stopped me.  But I finished the 10k.  I went down to the sports club, registered, walked as fast as I could for 10k with my friend, and finished at 1 hour 31 minutes (which is probably the same time I would have got had I jogged it). 

I finished something.  Not the way I had set out to finish it, but still.  I finished it.

We having been trying to conceive now for a year and a half on our own.  We've had two, probably three chemical pregnancies.  I have been charting since May.  My life has broken down into period week, ovulation week, and the two week wait.  It is stressful.  It eats up my free time.  Well, maybe poor choices about google use and pregnancy/infertility topics eats up my free time.  But it is unbelievably hard, and I am still in the minors.  Even now, on the verge of being called up to the majors, is hard.  There are times when I want to quit.  When I want to say screw it and just carry on with my life.  When I wonder if this is really what I want.  If I have to work so hard for it, will I appreciate it more, or will I resent it?  Because I never in a million years thought that this would be something I would have to work hard for.  

The first few kilometres are always the hardest as you adjust to what your body and mind have to do.  I think the first few brush strokes, the first few notes, the first few steps of any new thing are hard.  Self doubt creeps in.  Distractions are everywhere.  "I'll do it later."  "I haven't got enough time right now."  Insert excellent well thought out excuse. 

I am going to finish things.   No.  "Going to" implies someday, maybe far into the future.  So I will.  I will finish things.
I will carry on with this blog.
I will be active, to improve my health.  Running or walking.  I will be flexible, but I will be consistent. 
I will continue to try to lose weight.  Kilojoules counting at least until my appointment with the dietitian, and then maybe I will have a new plan to follow.
I will finish this trying to conceive thing, one way or another, one day or another.
I will finish what I started as a kid, and I will write a novel/short story/essay/anything really, and I will try to get it published.

And next year, I will train, and I will run the 10k.  Unless I am 9 months pregnant, or have just given birth or something.  Which I think is a damned acceptable excuse.   

Saturday, 25 October 2014

When in Rome...

My little sister is awesome.  Don't tell her, she will get a big head.  But she is amazing.  Not only did she send me a nice email offering to listen if I wanted to talk (I resisted sending her a reply about cervical mucous since I think she was meaning more about the emotional side of this whole thing), but she also sent me this:

A replica of an ancient Roman fertility charm, circa 100-300 AD.  It is supposed to improve your fertility and/or masculinity.  Hopefully I will grow a baby not a mo.  But the most awesome part is that I now have a cock and balls charm.  I would wear it everyday, but I am afraid of losing it (it is a bit on the small side, no pun intended...ok, maybe pun intended).  For xmas last year my Mom gave me a necklace with a locket that holds charms symbolizing the members of your family (me, hubbs, and our 2 cats), so I could put it in there.  But I don't really get to wear jewelry all that often.  I am too afraid of losing it at work, and after work...well...I am a bit of a homebody.  Or recluse.  Don't judge.

And if a Roman fertility charm isn't enough, I also won a coffee mug from the Life of Caesar podcast, which I reviewed on itunes.  I am a history nerd, I love all things Roman, and now I get two things Roman!!!

It's been a good week.  It's also sexy time week, as ovulation is impending.  And during this week, Cleo does her best to cock block.  She beats us to bed, and proceeds to take up a solid third of the bed, and then purrs and looks so cute we can't kick her out.  And only on nights of scheduled bonking.  Of course, she is so sleepy she doesn't mind if the bed is a-rockin', and we try around her.

Friday, 17 October 2014

Throwback Thursday...on a Friday.

It is still Thursday somewhere, and since I put up some pics of Toffs as a kitten awhile back, it is Cleo's turn. 

This is the very first photo we ever took of Cleo.  We adopted her when she was about 5 months old and this picture, though not very graceful or lady-like, is definitely Cleo.  She is quirky.  And she does sit like that from time to time. 

Cleo is a bit of a scrapper with the neighbourhood toms.  Even though they are bigger than she is, she manages to kick some ass when she has to.  When fighting the tom I call "big black and fluffy" she got a bite wound on her back, which grew into an abscess, which needed to be drained, and then lanced a second time.  She was a wee conehead for about a week, but the cone was too big for her and she kept getting out of it, until I made a harness to secure it.  In this pic she is napping and holding her Moose's hand.  I saw "big black and fluffy" a few days later with a shaved tail so I am guessing she gave as good as she got. 


The Mototapu kicked my ass.  Seriously, I can barely walk.  I am exhausted.  I feel like crap.  I just want to sleep all day.
                                                               Jack Hall's Saddle.

The first day started out well.  We made good time through a grunty bit of forest, up above the treeline and up a reasonably easy climb up to Jack Hall's Saddle.  From here it looked like a quick but easy descent down to the hut, which was somewhere down below.  But it wasn't so easy as that.  The track leading down was steep and after the first hundred meters or so my legs turned to jelly.  That in and of itself makes it a challenge, but it is much more challenging when walking down a steep ridge on a knife edge.  As in a fall to either side would mean death.  And it was windy, but only in gusts. 

Sometimes what you think will be easy and straight-forward enough turns out to be way more challenging that you could have imagined.  I don't like heights all that much.  There were a few places on that way down where I thought, oh my god how can I do that?  But the hut was down below, and that was where we needed to go.  So I put one foot in front of the other, and concentrated entirely on moving slowly and keeping my balance.  My right calf cramped up several times, even once when crossing a really exposed section of track, but I had to keep moving.  And so I did.  And the scary bits were soon behind me. 

When we reached the bottom, surprise, there were two ridges to climb up and down between us and the hut.  They weren't so high, maybe only 100m or so, but they were steep, and we'd been tramping for about 8 hours at that point.  But there was nothing to do but go up, and down, and up, and finally down to the hut on my jelly legs.

The plan the next day was to carry on to another hut, which would involve climbing 400m and descending 400m twice, on even steeper and more exposed terrain.  Though my legs were already wobbly and weak, we started out.  Early on part of the climb was so steep and exposed, I may as well have been climbing up a dodgy ladder with a heavy pack on my back.  I nearly panicked.  I wanted to cry.  I thought for sure I would fall.  I couldn't stop, because I knew that if I did, I would never start again.  I made it, with my husband's help (he came back down and took my pack), but even as the climb evened out a little bit, I knew my body couldn't make it.  Not safely.  I told the Moose I couldn't do it, and we agreed to reach a small saddle above us where it would be safe to stop, and there we would make our decision.  Thankfully he was so supportive.  He has been yearning for this tramp for years now, but he knew I couldn't do it safely, and he agreed that the best course of action was to return to the hut.  And here he helped me again by taking my pack down the really steep bit (and yes, I did go down this section on my bum).  We spent the rest of the day lounging about the hut, resting up for the long walk back the way we had come.
                        The Moose is a speck of blue carrying his pack down after carrying mine.

The pain in my legs was terrible.  I could barely get up and down the steps outside the hut.  I was worried I wouldn't be able to make it back out the way we came.  In tramping, especially in this kind of terrain, it is as much a mind set as a physical thing.  You have to be prepared mentally as well as physically.  You think you see the end (end of a climb, flat where a hut should be, whatever your goal is), but you have to be ready for it to not be the end, for the end to be just a little bit farther every time you think you are there.  You need to be able to look at a difficult section of track, maybe with a steep drop to one or both sides, or a scramble up or down a massive rock, and to know you can do it, to trust in your tired sore body.  You need to be able to work, hard, for 8 or 9 or even more hours to get to your goal.  Sort of like long distance running, it is a bit of a mind game.  If you start thinking "are we there yet?" and you have only been walking for a few are in for a long day.

That was the kind of day we had walking out.  We made it along those two ridges near the hut.  We made it up the long steep climb to the saddle, again in the wind, along sharp horrible drops to the sides.  My legs were still sore, but they were stronger.  I found, however, that in retracing our steps, I had forgotten many of the harder, more tricky sections.  There were many surprises, things that hadn't seemed difficult on the first day, were very tricky on the third.  We found that even though we had just been this way, we couldn't remember simple things.  Was the bridge closer to one end of the forest, or the other?  Wasn't this sidle between the other hut and the forest shorter than this?  The day seemed long, the car seemed so very far away when we were expecting it to be closer. 

Despite the difficulty of the track, and the pain in my legs, the land we were hiking through was beautiful, and I enjoyed every bit of it.  Even as I sit here, so exhausted, so sore, the memories of the scary parts, the difficult parts, the pain, are already starting to fade. 
                                                                Up a narrow ridge.

Tramping is much like any struggle in life.  It is difficult, and frustrating, but rewarding.  I am stronger for the journey.

Monday, 13 October 2014

Back from the diner...

Aunt Flo arrived last night, and I think now I am over the worst of it.  Or at least I hope so, because tomorrow I am going tramping for a few days, and the first day is going to be the hardest.  But the cramping is nearly gone (yay for good pain pills!), and while I am still bleeding a bit on the heavy side, I can't imagine there is much left in there.  I hope.

The doctor took a blood test, but I think it may have been too late.  My temp dropped Sunday morning and I was bleeding Sunday night, so I don't think getting my blood taken Monday at noon will prove too terribly informative.  The nurse jabbed me pretty hard too.  I might actually get a bruise. 

And I got my referral today!  My weight is down enough that with the signed approval of a dietitian I can get a subsidised consult and begin subsidised testing!  Any costs out of pocket will be minimal, and will probably just be travel related (as in a 3 hour drive).  I still have to lose about 5 kilos before they will do any treatments, but I am guessing the wait list to actually get the consult will give me enough time that by the end of testing I should be ready.  And I bet I will lose about 2 kilos just from this tramp! 


Sunday, 12 October 2014

Deja Vu, mais ou est Aunt Flo?

At 14dpo, 4pm, getting ready for a work party to mark the end of pruning, and anticipating beers I pull out my last FRER.  I've had no symptoms (well, nothing strong enough and everything can be attributed to something else), but I don't really feel like my period is coming, though I have been spotting brown since the previous day.  Negative internet cheapies on 10 and 12 dpo.  But I want to have beers, so might as well get my negative and guarantee my period by peeing on the expensive stick.

Me:  "...I think there's a, look.  Do you see it?"

Moose:  "...No."

Me:  "I'm not crazy, there is a line there.  It's just really really faint.  Look at it in natural light.  Now do you see it?"

Moose:  "...No."

Me:  "Put your glasses on.  I swear I am not crazy.  Now?"

Moose:  "...No."

Me:  "Look at this picture of it inverted on my phone.  See?  I'm not crazy."

Moose:  "Sorry honey, I don't see anything."

Me (glaring at test):  "Ah, fuck it, I'm crazy."  (and in my head: "Totally getting drunk at the work party tonight")

At 15dpo, early in the am, hungover as buggery, wondering where the period is.  Look at 14dpo stick in morning light, and guess what, that was a line.  A nice pink line that is not an evap.  Can I be happy about it?  No, and not just because I drank enough beer to give this potential child flippers.  Anxiety sets in.  Another faint line.  Like last time. Temp is back up, but that could be the beers (so much for Sober-tober).  Guess I will have to go buy some more FRERs.  Test in afternoon again.  Maybe a line.  Maybe.  Even harder to see than the other was.  Maybe it will darken later (it doesn't).  Still no period, no cramps, just very little brown spotting.  Great.  I will either get to enjoy a very early miscarriage while tramping on a demanding track, or I will be maybe pregnant and fearing one hitting me while on said track, making it impossible for me to make it out on my own.  I am not looking forward to reading that in the newspaper "Local Woman Airlifted by Helicopter From Difficult Track Due to Period" because I am sure that's how it would appear.  Urgh.  Nothing to do but wait and see and spend most of the day with Dr. Google. 

Today, 16dpo, with first morning urine.  I hadn't drank anything since 10pm the night before, because I drink water like it is going out of fashion (kidney stone when I was 18 and not going to EVER have another if I can help it).  FRER is pretty stark white.  There could be a line, but even I can't see it.  On the bright side, the Moose concedes that the 14dpo stick does have a line that he can now see (if he holds it about five feet away...might be time to get his eyes checked again).  Cramps are worse (longer than the five minutes they were lasting before), and spotting is still brown but there is more of it.  And the biggest tell all, apart from the FRER, is the temp dive on my chart.  But my boobs are sore now, and they weren't before.  So...

I have spent most of this morning searching the internet for any sign that maybe this could turn out well, because hope is a terrible thing.  I know what is going to happen here, as much as I think I kind of knew on 14dpo when I thought I saw that faint line but couldn't be sure it wasn't line eye.  Everything was perfect this cycle.  My chart was beautiful.  Clear ovulation cd13, perfectly timed intercourse, temp dip 7dpo, higher temps after.  But negative tests on 10 and 12dpo.  A faint positive on 14dpo?  There is no way this is ending well for me, and for every pregnancy chart on fertility friend with a drop at 15 or 16dpo that appeared to carry on as a pregnancy, there are probably ten that ended in miscarriage.  For every low beta, late hpt, slow rise type of thing that ended well, there are lots that didn't.  And I am not getting faint lines now.  But also not really bleeding.  Not red blood.  Not yet.  And so there is a part of me that hopes, even when I know all is lost and it ain't gonna happen. 

I'm calling it.  I need to.  Chemical Pregnancy Number Two. I just hope the bleeding starts today so I know if I can handle it on this tramp (we will go on Tuesday), or if I will have to throw in the towel and spend the next four days on the toilet in terrible pain.  I am thinking this one will be more like a "heavier period" with "heavier cramping" that the internet describes, rather than the full on explosion of lady parts that happened last time (because shit, that was only a little less worse than my kidney stone).

I'll go see the doctor in the morning.  Maybe since I seem to be getting pregnant on my own, she can do some tests or something.  I have about 4-5 kg to lose to get my public funded referral to the fertility clinic, but maybe there is something we can do in the meantime.  If nothing else I can have a good whinge to someone who has to listen to me.  The poor Moose hasn't said it, but he is getting sick of the fact that I can talk of nothing else.  (He may murder me if I ask him to look at all my peesticks one more time...because he has looked at them many, many times at my request and seen nothing new)

"Aunt Flo must be back at the diner, because this period doesn't have any."  A Woogism.  He was the coach of the Minnesota Gophers hockey team, and later a radio/tv commentator for the Gopher games.  And like the hockey game he was referring to, I've got no Flo.  So please Aunt Flo come back from that diner soon so I can go tramping.  Or stay away and let me be wrong about this pregnancy.  There goes that damn hope again. 

Monday, 6 October 2014

Not so sensitive to insensitivity...but...

Considering very few people know about our TTC issues, I have still heard the usual things.  "At least you know you can get pregnant" (...true, but I don't know if I can STAY that way), "It will happen eventually" (vague...but yes, I hope so), "Have you tried _?" (didn't work, or no.  Just, no.), and "Have you considered adoption?" (...we are just starting out here, and hullo, free treatment if I can get my ass under 32 bmi).  I am sure there have been others, but honestly, these have mostly come from people close to me, like my mom, my PCOS tube-lacking sister (yup, even her), and my hubby for the "It will happen eventually" (yes, Moose, but I don't want to have to change your diapers when changing a bub's!).  No harm is meant by it, and I have brushed it off, or rather, ticked it off the list, like some exotic infertile bingo. 

So last week a comment finally pissed me off.  A coworker and sort-of friend commented on the miscarriage of her brother and sister-in-law.  "That's what you get for announcing it too early."

She had complained at length when the announcement was made a few months ago, and last week didn't really know much about when the miscarriage occurred or how they were taking it, but assumed they found out at their first scan.  "They should know better."  "That's why you don't announce it so early."  Etc etc.

Now she has got some personal issues, and is EXTREMELY jealous of her siblings and has some major issues with them and the roles they all play in the family unit, and I won't go into it here because while I doubt she will ever read this, I am not going to go about slagging her.  She is not a bad person, and no doubt had no idea how offended I was (on behalf of the SIL, but also for myself).

I resisted the urge to ball her out publicly, and resisted the urge to have a word to her in private.  She doesn't need to know about what happened to me last May.  Am I glad I didn't announce that I was pregnant?  Yes.  But it was so soon.  I was barely pregnant for 5 days.  I was still thinking about how and when to announce, and to who, and all that.  That BFP was a long time coming, and I was probably more aware than most about my chances for miscarriage.  But it was MY decision.  My choice.  And the Moose's too.

Could we have hid it for 12 weeks??  From my family, yes.  They are overseas.  From his mum, yes, she lives about 4 hours away and we see her every other month or so.  But I doubt we could have hid it from coworkers.  We work together in the winter, and someone would have probably thought to themselves "hmm...why is Tiggy puking again?  I didn't think she was that much of a drunk...", and word would have gone around.  Probably on facebook too, which would bring my family into the loop in a manner in which they would probably resent.  So, coworker, in this hypothetical world where I stayed pregnant, would I deserve a miscarriage if I had to announce before the 12 week mark??

My sister was lucky to get preggos straight off the pill with her first.  She was diagnosed PCOS when trying for number 2, and put on clomid.  She announced her pregnancy to the extended family at some family function or another (I don't remember what it was, but I was home for it and it must have been back around 2007 or so), and seriously, on the way home, had stomach pain so bad we took her straight to the hospital.  She had an ectopic that had or was about to rupture in one tube, and another ectopic that hadn't yet reached that stage in the other.  They had to take her tubes.  Did it happen because she had just announced to the whole family??  Did the gods smite her womb for having the gall to announce a pregnancy so early?  I don't think so. 

I also had a cousin who got a surprise BFP and announced to the family and it ended up an early miscarriage too.  Again, I don't think it "serves her right". 

Because of these experiences, I will admit, I think making that big announcement is bloody scary.  I have no idea when I would want to announce, were I to get a BFP again.  If I could hide it all the way to 40 weeks, I would consider it.  But I could announce early too.  I have supportive family that would pass the word of any miscarriage along without me having to even mention it to distant cousins and aunties.  So, let everyone know early and be happy/sad along with me, or try to minimize the risk of sharing that sadness should the bad thing happen again?  Tough decision.  But it is mine (and the Moose's).

It was/is/will always be coworker's SIL's choice.  If she wanted to announce it the day that second line appeared, that is her choice.  If she wanted to wait, it is her choice.  As far as I am concerned, she doesn't need to defend it either.  I only hope that if the brother and SIL are coming to New Zealand for xmas, that coworker can get it together and try to have a little empathy instead of just jealousy.  And if not, then I hope she can keep her trap shut.   

Saturday, 4 October 2014


I think I just outed myself.  If you just clicked over here cuz you noticed I have just followed you...hi.  I have been lurking.  Probably for a few months for most of you (and by a few I mean about 6).  You gals all rock, and I have been following you around on my kindle, through bookmarks, not through my blog.  Yes, I may have looked at your blog 2 or 3 times in a day, no I am not a stalker.  I am a wee bit OCD with my routines, and I go through all my bookmarks on the kindle each morning before work, and usually again after work.  And if I open up my interwebs, it may open back to your page.  So the 30,000 page views from New Zealand...yeah...that was probably me.  I want to follow through blogger now...I couldn't follow wordpress blogs before for some reason, but it let me today, and well...I am now following publicly, and it just occurred to me that you can probably see me now.  My lurking days are done.  So...hi...feel free to look around, ask nosy questions or tell me I am a loony who doesn't belong in the shitty club just yet. 

Guess I had best see if I am following blogspot blogs publicly...


I haven't posted in a while.  I suppose I have a number of reasons (excuses):  I've been busy (well, sort of true), I've been tired (definitely true), I don't really participate in the community at all (I am a lurker though) and therefore no one is wondering where I am or why I am not blogging, and I always seem to think about blogging halfway through my two week wait.  I have blogged in my head a time or two, and I am thinking more and more about starting to comment on other blogs and get out there.  But.  Two week wait.  If I get a BFP in a week, I will kick myself in the ass for dropping myself into the infertility world.  I don't want to seem like some indecisive fertile thing..."I'm infertile too!  Let's be friends!...oh, wait, no, I got pregnant naturally...sorry..."<steps back slowly>.  Now, I have been off the pill for, oh, 17 months.  I have been charting for 5 months.  I have had one chemical pregnancy.  Am I infertile?  Who knows.  Five kilos to lose before I start my referral to the RE, and begin the round of diagnostic fun. 

So...Am I infertile?

No.  I've had a naturally occurring chemical pregnancy.  "At least I can get pregnant".  Right?  Of the 17 months trying, most were probably mistimed.  We had a flat mate I rescued from a coworker with us for 3 or 4 months, so those cycles probably had little chance.  And the others...well, lets say enthusiasm may often wear out before O in "I'm tired.  Let's do it tomorrow."  The cycle we got that chemical on, we had bonked three days before O day...and not again.  Well, probably some time during the two week wait...I don't track recreational bonks.  And maybe the number one reason I may not be infertile:  I still think there is a chance it could happen naturally.  Take right now.  Excellent timing.  Temp dip at 7dpo with otherwise very steady temps (not erratic like they were during the winter...I think the warmer weather is to blame).  No real symptoms as sore boobs and slightly ucky tummy are pretty usual this time of the cycle, and anyway, I am only 8dpo so I guess I wouldn't be having many symptoms yet anyway.  But I do think we have a good chance, and if I were truly infertile, I think I would still hope, but I don't think I could hope this much.

Yes.  "Once you go off the pill, it happens so quick!"  Maybe for you, fertile friends pregnant off the first attempt, but I call bullshit.  BULL.SHIT.  Seriously.  17 months.  With regular periods.  Even with less than perfect timing, someone starting out on this at 31.5 years old would have expected it to maybe, MAYBE take 8-12 months.  I am still young(ish).  So there is a sense that nature is failing us.  And there are babies everywhere.  I never noticed them before, so what the hell?  Where did they all come from?  Don't answer that, I know where they all came from because I have googled the shit out of everything related to reproducing.  I won't say I have earned my medical degree yet, but I have researched.  I know way more about fertility, infertility, treatments, etc than the average woman.  Maybe more than the average med student.  I am somewhat bitter.  Not towards the preggos, but towards the universe.  What's that?  A's wife is due in February?  (That's the month I would have been due, thanks universe).  There is going to be another royal baby?  (huh.  Even stick insects get two it seems...thanks universe).  J and S are both getting brand spanking new grandbabies?  Of course they are!!  Another A just had her baby?  Skinny N with the runt of a hubby just birthed a 10 pound-er?  (wow, actually, thanks universe...that one just about squares us up, since you made me giggle).  P's wife must be due soon...lets all speculate on that at work all day.  That will be fun.  Sigh.  Thank you, universe, for rubbing it in.  That is not counting all the babies at the supermarket...though I usually shop Sunday mornings at 8 when the grocery store opens...then all I need to see are the scrawny turkey legs of the 80 year old nudist...yes he wears shorts to the store even in the winter, but no, they do not cover anything.  One last thing, after that chemical pregnancy...I am not sure I will trust in any pregnancy continuing...I will need some dark lines on that test, some strong heartbeats...lots of symptoms...just to keep the anxiety away.  Fertile women are probably a little anxious...I think it would be something any pregnant woman would feel.  But I will raise that bar to a rather high level.  Because I will be happy, but I will be SCARED SHITLESS.  Is it possible to wait until after delivery to tell anyone you're pregnant?  Don't want to jinx it.

So...after a long list of yeses and nos, am I infertile?  eh, maybe.  Time will tell.  So...what does it all mean?
 Well, I have named this month "Man Up-tober" (yes, I am a feminist and yes I do see what I did there.  Sorry.).  Mostly because I have gotten off track with my running.  So, I will run every day this month (unless I go tramping, because...well, Mototapu should count as the whole month of running really, but this depends on getting time off of work).  I will try to eat better, but I am not calorie counting.  I did it for a while, and was eating way too little for all the running I was doing!  Probably why I got so tired.  So I will pay attention and make healthier choices. relates to this blog and eventually winds up this whole long rant...IF I get my period next weekend, I will jump into the infertile community.  I will come out of my infertile closet.  I will start commenting instead of lurking.  I will ask the stirrup queen to please add me to the blog roll, I will ICLW.  I will blog the hell out of this craptastic journey.  I will blog fearlessly.  I will accept that if I get pregnant on my own so soon after jumping into this community...well...I may piss a few people off.  And I will have to live with that.

IF I get a BFP instead...well...I will cross that bridge if I get to it.

And it may also be a Sober-tober.  Depending on the results of my TWW. 

And to those few stragglers who managed to find my little blog and any future  I think you were probably looking for something else.