Every pimple

is a portent of another period, another disappointment. Day 31/32, girding my loins.

Then, it could just be the sticky heat and my questionable hygiene of late. They go hand in hand.

And why the fuck did I have to see this book today?

I second

Jessica Crispin's sentiment. "A Few Good Eggs" sounds like an awful book.

House Rejects Coverage of Impotence Pills

From the NYT article:

"It's a terrible precedent, to knock out a whole class of drugs from a formulary," Representative Nancy L. Johnson, Republican of Connecticut, said. "Is the next round going to be hormones for women?"

Huh. What comparable-to-Viagra, sex-drive enhancing hormones is she talking about? Cuz I could use some, especially during Fuck Week.

But [chief sponsor] Mr. King said a better comparison would be fertility treatments, which Medicaid does not cover. "I argue that sex has only two reasons, one of them is for procreation, and we don't subsidize procreation in the form of fertility drugs," he said. "And the other reason for sex is recreation, and we should not be funding recreational drugs of any kind, be they psychedelic or for sexual impotency."

Slippery slope

We're not sure how we want to tackle the whole nursery-decorating thing.

Frugality and fate conspired to get me and E into a wonderful house last summer. It's our first, but not really a "starter." With three bedrooms, we hope never to have to move for want of space.

Though this does look suspicious to new acquaintances.

The second bedroom can be disguised easily as a guest room. The third served as a moving-detritus dumping ground until recently.

Not really believing in feng shui, but grasping at straws, we (I) decided it was time to get our shit together.

A few weeks ago I hung up pictures and moved in a few plants and a rocking chair.

I picked up a novena candle for a quarter, so now Mary, Jesus, and Frank Gerbil of Peace watch over the room.

Then I got a mad yen to reorganize my yarn stash, so the place became a mess again.

Today I finally put away the yarn and took out the trash. It's looking pretty good.

E went so far as to suggest we furnish the room, but that's too much for me.

It's day 29/32. Hoping my boobs don't start aching from the amount of prodding I'm doing to see if they're aching.

Maybe the $73 worth of OvuQuick I just bought is a talisman...

Zinnia

E and I picked names way early, with the clause that we could change our minds if it was clear the baby didn't look like what we picked. When I got pregnant the first time, I grew more and more fond of the name Zinnia for a girl.

The thing is, now the flower is linked forever to her. Every time I see one, I have to grab my brain by the scruff and make it heel before it wanders into traffic after her.

Ah ha

Let's try this for a bit.

Done our bit

Well, we've given it our best shot this month. We'll see if the breast pain starts up in a week or so, signaling another miss. If so, I've got 18 days' worth of ovulation test kits in the wings, which I got for just $73 (thanks, froogle and Hocks).

E's folks were in town recently and I had hoped we'd be able to tell them what's up. They know about last March's miscarriage, but not the latest medical advice we got. E is shy. Doesn't help to watch Raising Arizona, nor to hear about relatives who are pregnant, though.

E is a teetotaler

So at parties, beer in hand, I used to say, "I'm drinking for two," then point to E. It's not as funny these days.

He was always right

My first real boyfriend was a brillant slacker and the quintessential older man. I couldn't have wished for a more perfect deflowering, in his bedroom at his parents' house while they watched Cool Runnings in the basement.

Rewind to the time we dropped acid in the squalid apartment he shared with a comics store clerk and an artist - god how I loved his bohemian charms! Around 5am, we started coming down and I became convinced it was a good idea for me to lose my virginity then and there. He stopped us since we didn't have condoms, but weeks later, in the bitter throes of breakup, he said I was careless and "almost got yourself pregnant."So very smart.

Loose lips

I feel like E and I have been blabbing a bit much lately. We didn't tell anyone when we started trying. Then after the m/c we told three close people.

Then two more.

Then a mutual friend with a few kids under her belt already twisted my arm, then spilled the story to her best friend, whom I'd met twice.

Then E got a little carried away and told a bus full of his band students.

So I retaliated and made a new friend and told her almost immediately, plus finally told all to my mom.

Finally, I just confessed to a mentor of mine it was why I turned down a job offer.

Why do I bother keeping a separate blog for this, again?

People who don't know all the gory details; or, a list to comfort me in times of anxiety:

1. My siblings
   
2. My boss & coworkers
3. E's boss & coworkers
   
4. School friends
5. Neighbors
6. Dogs
7. Church people
8. My oldest high school friends

Not so bad when I look at it that way.

Italy

Take this embryo and shove it.

Jill explains

That's better. I'm back in my normal clothes. Today it's a v-neck tshirt that highlights what Julie might call my own opulent rack.

I'm starting with this blog because my husband (E) and I have been trying to get me knocked up since September 2003, the earilest possible time to avoid me dealing with baby and school at the same time.

Lo, we did it in four months, but I had a miscarriage at 10 weeks.

So I finished the damn degree.

I think I was pregnant for a couple weeks the next fall, but a suspiciously heavy period was the end of that.

Four weeks ago I tested positive, but yet another bonus period dashed that glimmer.

So where are we now?

1. Charting my temp.
   
   
2. Using ovulation test kits (which don't work).
   
   
3. Taking vitamins and supplements. E's are called "Virility" and come in a bottle with a ruggedly handsome, dark man in a chunky fisherman's sweater, with his arm around a dog. Actually, that sounds pretty hot. Mine (Vitex extract) are in a tincture that smells like bongwater. (Not that I would remember. I haven't done drugs since, let's see, Clinton's first term.)
   
   
4. Working out.
   
   
5. Giving up coffee and alcohol (except for a drink now and then, to make #8 below easier). Never have smoked.
   
   
6. Giving up baths (E's coffee substitute).
   
   
7. No boxers. In fact, no underwear at night. Makes #9 below easier.
   
   
8. Slacking off. Stress reduction is important, so I try to blog at work as much as possible.
   
   
9. Having as much sex as we can stand. This is not always as fun as it might sound, due in no small part to E's large part. Ever eat too much chocolate mousse cake? Yeah.
   
   Add to that our postcoital routine, which involves waving my naked ass in the air for a half hour (especially cringeworthy in the cold cold winter) and putting in an Instead menstrual cup to keep the precious seed from spilling.
   
   
10. Seen doctors:
1. Visit #1, both of us: "Relax! Use an OvuQuick test! Chart your temp! That'll be $121 please."
2. Visit #2, E only: "Your sperm is bad. We want to run another test. That'll be $110 please."
3. Visit #3, E only: "Your sperm is not so bad. Count good, motility low. Have more sex. That'll be another $110 please."
4. Visit #4, me only: "We like to wait for three losses, but we can do artificial insemination ($600 per) now if you want. That doubles your chances each time. And if you want us to go ahead and inject fluid into your tubes and x-ray them ($800) we'll do that, too. That'll be $121 please."

So now we're saving up for the next round. We're fastidious about our money and firmly in the overprivileged American middle class, but it's not like we have thousands to throw at the problem.

I think we also need to relax. E has wanted kids since he was one. I've come to that point much more recently. We're still young. But all our parents had trouble having us, so we don't want to delay involving the profesionels.

Hence the blog (which, incidentally, is full of strategic lies). While our friends and coworkers are popping them out like Pez dispensers all around, we're private people. We don't want to rain on their parades or be objects of sympathy or unsolicited advice.

Lord knows no one who blogs about their reproductive choices gets unsolicited advice, right?

I just hope I get a pregnancy to stick and can shut down this blog as soon as possible. Hence its title.

If dressing like a breeder is what it takes

to convince my uterus to hang on to a zygote for once, then I'm in good shape.

Today's ensemble: Liz Claiborne fawn-colored slacks, brown Old Navy tank, and a blue checked Kathy Ireland oxford shirt. Ri-goddamn-diculous. What's next, appliqued denim vests?

That it all came from Goodwill is some consolation.



How did I get here?