Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Letter to the Booger, Week 5

Hey you... how are you doing in there, little one? Find everything to your liking so far? This is your Mom, you know, the person attached to this uterus you currently call home, the one who loves you more than any other person will ever love you in your entire life, and already does, ever since you showed up in her life as two bright and strong pink lines.

Strong pink lines, really. No faint pinkish illusion that I could have interpreted in any way I wanted to, but bold and bright and right in my face. You have left no doubt about your existence, my love, and your father said he knew about you even before I did, so strong is your presence. Oh, your father is a bit on the esoteric side, you must know. He sometimes has premonitions, and sometimes just "knows things" (- which is kind of scary, really, but that's a story we might tell you when you are older), and he said he just "knew" about you one night, about 5 days before you showed yourself to me on that pregnancy test. He also says that you are a boy... convinced, he is. Me? I don't care what you are, I am just happy that you are here, and I hope will all my heart that you will stay with us, my baby.

Everybody does, do you know that? Your grandmother, my Mom, started to cry when I showed her our first picture of your 2 mm self, and your other grandmother, your Dad's mom, screamed into the phone so loud that your great-aunt had to hush her. Your grandfathers are very proud of your Dad and me too because of you, but you know who is probably the most excited yet? Your great-grandparents. Especially your great-grandpa, it seems. He is very old, and I hope from the bottom of my heart that he will get to know you, and get to hold you once you are born. In your life you will probably not have any conscious memory of these two people, but it would mean the world to me if I could see you sleep in their arms at least once, I love them so much.

So, let's see. According to your age, you should currently measure about 4 to 6 millimeters. How's your arm and leg buds doing? Is your little heart beating yet? I cannot wait to see my doctor tomorrow, and check up on you again. See how much you have grown. Last week you were a whopping 2.2 millimeters tall - which is respectable, considering you started out barely visible to the naked eye. You must be exhausted from your efforts of more than doubling your size every week! I am so proud of you! My doctor promised me that tomorrow we should be able to see your placenta, and the week after that your tiny little heart. I can barely wait. I know that once we see your heart beating, my risk of losing you has gone down considerably in comparison to right now, and I would have to lie to you, my love, if I said that I am not afraid. We, your father and I, really need you to hold on to me, my love, for we both cannot wait to hold you in our arms and show you the world!

But I think you are doing well in there right now. You are making sure that I am aware of your presence almost every waking moment. And you got your priorities straight, too! You certainly are making sure that the milk bar will be in operating order once you'll need it, I painfully notice the preparations for production since a few big, tender, swollen days now. Oh, and your dislike for waltzes? You'll have to get over that, it's what we do here in Austria, and you better get used to it soon. I can't double over in every dance class the way you made me do two days ago, just because your Dad is whirling me through the room like that. Hey, I paid for this class and I still have a few evenings to go, please don't spoil the fun like that! And ask your Dad - even though he doesn't like these classes very much, he'll tell you that dancing is a lot of fun. You're a half-Latino, I am sure you will understand, even if you are a boy: they say that the only men on earth who will openly admit to liking to dance are Gays and Latinos. But in the meantime - please let me enjoy my dance classes a bit more, okay? I have to try and keep myself fit in the upcoming months, somehow.

So, I hope you'll pose nicely for us tomorrow with your shiny new placenta, I want a good picture of you, okay?


Week 5

Sunday, February 25, 2007

more upsetting news

Today I learned that my cousin's wife (yet another cousin) is currently in the hospital: for a D&C at 6 weeks pregnant. Just one week further along than I am.

They already have a child, a 1 year old daughter. Though of course this doesn't lessen the tragedy. Only a few weeks ago, when we were talking about my miscarriage, she was being really sweet, reassuring me that soon it'll all work out for me, and I will soon be able to hold my baby in my arms.

What's with all these miscarriages? I have never realized this, realized how many women around me have suffered from this, or are suffering it, how common it really is. I guess the doctor performing my D&C wasn't kidding when she told me about the statistics.

I feel really sorry for my cousin and his wife... and it lets my worries about my own baby flare up even stronger. Again it goes to show that life just "doesn't happen", that it's not a sure thing just because a woman finds herself pregnant.

My next ultrasound is on Thursday. I wish I could make time pass faster, so I can see my baby again, and hear the doctor say that everything is looking good so far. I am feeling fine, better than last time, but I am constantly aware of my belly, I am constantly feeling "something"... a pulling sensation, something I cannot really define. I hope that it's just in my head, and if it isn't that it doesn't mean any harm for my baby. My previous miscarriage overshadows any innocent enthusiasm that I might otherwise feel about this pregnancy, and worries predominate. I wish it wouldn't be this way, and that I could simply be happy about the little alien inside of me, and nothing else.

I think once I see its little heart beating, I will feel a bit more at ease, for this would be further than my first baby ever came. Two more weeks, and we should see the little fluttering of life.

I wish with all my might, that I won't suffer the same fate I did before again, the same one my poor cousin's wife is going through right now. I wish all the best for her, and that her daughter will manage to distract her enough in the upcoming days and weeks that she won't find herself deep down on the bottom of the same hole I was sitting in.

Friday, February 23, 2007

pregnant vs. pregnant

Without trying to be judgmental, there is being pregnant, and there is being pregnant. You know, the latter's the kind that rises people's eyebrows, puts a "I knew it was gonna end this way" kind of smirk on their faces, and throws family into turmoil and disaster. People whisper about such pregnancies behind their palms covering their chatty mouths, kind of like how my new Mexican relatives talked about "this cousin" who had dared getting married without involving the holy church - not too loud lest the neighbors would hear, but loud enough to gossip endlessly about with family members. (Good thing nobody told them that we were "such people" ourselves!)

I am pregnant. Not pregnant. I am the kind of pregnant that was deliberately planned for a while, purposefully planned for, and puts huge happy grins and smiles onto people's faces once they hear about it. It's the kind of pregnant that put my mother to tears, and made my 83 year old grandfather stumble for words in his emotions over an ultrasound image of my 2 mm amniotic sac, asking if we knew the gender of the baby already. It's the kind of pregnant that makes Geo kiss my tummy first thing in the morning, and that makes him plan a new nutrition plan for me in his head and makes him tell me I need to go to bed at 10 PM latest from now on, because I need all the rest I can get.

It's the kind of pregnant that makes people want to share it with others, and it's the kind of news that travel faster than speed of light, even though I personally have only told a few people as of yet - and already am getting phone calls back from people who heard it from other people. It's the kind of pregnant that makes people happy, because they know what we had gone through previously.

So my mother goes to call her sister, my aunt, blurting out on the phone that GUESS WHAT! I'LL BE A GRANDMOTHER!!!

The response? A broken yeah... so am I.

Turns out that my cousin, 22 years old, with no education, a job in a supermarket, and with one abortion on her karmic bill from a previous relationship with a man who has taken off with all the little money she had once he found out she was pregnant, not very long ago. It's the other kind of pregnant. She's *ominous whisper* pregnant. From a 19 year old boy who works in delicatessen at that same store, for minimum wage. A 19 year old boy whom she knows for a wee few months, and whose hormones had the best of him even though she flat out told him that she was not using any contraception. That she wanted to become knocked up so she wouldn't have to work anymore. After her older sister had gotten knocked up after a one-night-stand in pretty much the same situation, 2 years ago.

My mother's joy and enthusiasm over becoming a grandmother got stopped short, to say the least, over my aunt's devastation of becoming just that - again, and again under all the wrong circumstances.

There is pregnant, and there is pregnant. While my mother hopes with all her might for our Booger to hold on this time, to become her grandchild in 8 months, my aunt is hoping with all her might for her own future grandchild to meet the same fate that our first little one did. It sounds cruel, it sounds wrong, and it probably is, too. Incredibly how different becoming a grandmother can be perceived in different situations.

I find it irresponsible and mindless what my cousin has done. I feel sorry for the poor 19 year old boy who got pretty much tricked into being a father and will be financially tied to my cousin for the rest of his life and pay for this child from his meager supermarket paycheck. I feel sorry for my aunt who will probably have to raise this grandchild for her irresponsible daughter. A child that otherwise will have no future to speak of.

But I do wish the best for this growing child, that's just as small and tiny as my own - but instead of smiles and laughs and hugs and love only invoked anger and resentment and sadness in his brief little life yet. There were no tears of joy, just tears of anger. There is no talk of birth clinics, but talk of abortion centers. There was no love involved in this little embryo's making, but coldblooded calculation and selfishness on its mother's part.

This is touching me so much probably because she's as far along as I am, if not in the exact same week.

Such a little thing, a 2 mm amniotic sac with an yet invisible embryo in it, can cause so much love and joy and caring and concern - or the complete opposite. I wish all the best to my cousin's child.

Here's mine:

The Booger v2.0

...yes, it stayed high. :)

I am currently in my 4th week of pregnancy, and according to my first ultrasound everything looks just spiffy. :)

I am not sure what much else to say at this point. I have a photo of the amniotic sac in my purse, which currently measures in at a whopping 2.2 millimeters (the sac, not the purse), which is perfectly the size it should be. Next week we should see the placenta, and the week after that we should get a heartbeat.

Please keep our baby in your thoughts, that it'll stay with us all throughout this time.

Week 4

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Holy Shit!

...holy shit???


Saturday, February 17, 2007

Being a Grown-up 101

I had a three hour meeting with my accountant today to hand all my paperwork over to her to deal with my taxes for my graphic design studio for me.

Not only did I get ecstatic over my new set of dishes the other day, now I do have my very own accountant. (Not to mention that I have a graphic design studio?)

Oh, and my friend? She's passing her nursery (well, the furniture) down to me once we get the new apartment this summer.

I feel so damn grown up. Not too long ago I was living in a kid's room myself. Or at least it doesn't feel like "not too long ago". Now I have my own accountant, who does my finances, and who I have just today given power of attorney to do all my dealings with the finance department for me in my name.

I have a business and my own accountant. Am I the only one finding this baffling?

Everything seems to fall into place now, slowly but surely.

Now... where is my baby...? :(

Thursday, February 15, 2007

temp drop :(

This morning I found that my temperature has dropped down into the basement, or - in other words - below my coverline.

Dramatic drops can be observed quite frequently in the second half of a cycle, but the general consesus on the BBT boards is: "as long as it doesn't drop below the coverline, there is still hope."

It's alright, I guess. More fun in the next cycle, right?

Technically, I am still a few days away from the day my period is supposed to start (- but who knows, with my whacky post-scrape cycles), so I was told to just take my temperature again tomorrow morning, and see what happens before I freak out.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

cycle update...

Well, still 5 days to go until AF pays me another visit. Or so claims the BBT charting software on, at least. Today marks Day 25 of this cycle, and also my highest temperature yet. If tomorrow's temperature will continue to be this high, I will feel inclined to get a little prematurely excited over having a triphasic cycle, while it's probably just an anomaly. Besides, I am doing this for the first time, so I have no previous data to compare this to and decide whether it's normal or not.

Oh, a triphasic cycle? Some say it's a pretty good indicator of pregnancy, others say it's just an indicator of a slightly higher probability of pregnancy, and some say it's nothing but another progesterone rise after ovulation and has no other meaning.

At any rate, the girls over at the cycle boards keep on saying how beeee-ooootiful my BBT curve is, and I don't really like that, because it puts me into "hibbling" mode, and I promised myself not to do that this time. ("hibbeln" is the German internet lingo for the state of craziness a woman in the second half of her cycle is in, when she has reason to suspect or hope that she may be pregnant, and therefore plasters discussion boards with copies of her BBT chart, detailed elaborations of her cervical mucus and/or spotting, the position and consistency of her cervix, as well as various real and/or imagined symptoms of early pregnancy, usually gathering a group of co-hibblers around her for support and eventually to pat her on the head with sympathy should it turn out that AF decide to pay a visit afterall and all excitement was for naught.)

So yeah, I decided not to "hibble" this time. I "hibbled" two months ago when I thought I felt exactly like I did with my first pregnancy - extreme fatigue, dizzyness, sore breasts and all, and I "hibbled" again last month when AF missed her appointment with me and showed up 10 days late. Both times I felt fairly certain that I had a bun in the oven, and both times I was proven wrong. This month I feel nothing at all: my breasts are perfectly fine, my fatigue's only reason is my stupefyingly dull job, I don't feel dizzy unless my husband drops his pants in front of me. I got reasonably turned off to the concept of "child", because I realized to my own shame that it is a baby I want, but certainly not a child, or - god forbid - a teenager, and responsibility was never really my thing, either. I read some birth-reports from women, and I was busy reading a pregnancy board where women complained about all these pains and pressures and tight feelings and overall discomforts that happened upon them during the last trimester of their childgrowing, and I decided that pregnancy may not be this all romantic awe-inducing witnessing of a miracle that warrants me 9 months of special treatment and spoiling, afterall. Who knew - you mean labor is no FUN??????

So, nu-huh. Not this month. I haven't signed this contract yet, I would like some more time to read the small print over before I commit to anything concerning the rest of my pretty cool and independent life. Got it? I am still YOUNG and FUN, "mom" doesn't suit me so well in comparison to all the other names I am being called sometimes.

Yet there is this damned chart with it's potential third phase, and all these girls ooing and aaing over how promising this all looks, and I can't help but get all positively excited all over again. Shoving the thermometer into my mouth as soon as the alarm goes off as if my life depended on it. Posting my BBT chart all over the place, pinching my breasts to see if it hurts (*duh*).

Damn my exctiteability. I should throw away my thermometer, and while I am at it, probably the internet along with it.


Remember this post?

I haven't talked about it much more because, even though it bothered me a lot and has weighed on my mind heavily as long as the e-mail conversation between me and this "person" has been going on, I now think that any further explanation or more digging in these memories than necessary is a waste of my precious time - and nerves.

I guess it can be summed up with one simple sentence: people never change.

And even though I am not one to send evil e-mails without leaving myself an opportunity for explanation or even an apology later, I am very proud of my final e-mail to him. Usually when I have something not-nice to say to someone I induldge myself by writing it down and reading it through a few times without hitting the send button, and then going over it again to take some of the sting and spite off of it before finally mailing it off. I have sent a few too many e-mails in my life which I have regretted the second I hit the send button, or felt stupider and stupider about the more I thought about them - felt ashamed for them, really. I have toned it down a lot since... but in this particular instance I sat before my words for a while, kept reading them over and over, asking myself "Can you really justify sending this, no matter what this person has done to you?", waiting for the little nagging voice in my head telling me that I will feel like an idiot and wish I could make it undone once it's gone. I was looking for ways to gentler describe what I was trying to say, to listen to a quiet warning to be the "grander person" here, to "just let it go".

I listened really hard. The voice was silent, almost triumphantly so. I tried to take the sting off my words in several differnt ways still, but always went back to the original, that seemed to have been dictated to me by true intuition. I thought about it, mulled it over, and came to the conclusion that the following really was the only combination of letters and syllables that make sense here, that are meant to be, that are part of the ever turning wheel of karma, and that no matter what I will never backtrack on them, or feel ashamed to have hit the send button. And if, by chance, tomorrow I'll get the news of his death, or next week, or next year, I will laugh and smile all day, reveling in the thought I got to say what I needed to say just before it was too late and I would have to live with it for the rest of my life without closure.

...yeah, I didn't think so. people never change. it was all just the same record you played before, only in a slightly different tune this time. too bad I am an atheist - otherwise I could express to you how much I hope you'll rot in hell soon. but I am sure karma will get you one way or another, and that thought puts a huge happy grin on my face. :)


Sunday, February 11, 2007

love is... a timeline...

I have seen my friend Sarah do this on her blog, and it really inspired me to shamelessly rip it off of her and adapt it to my own purpose - simply because I like it so much and I thought it'd be neat shareage.

(And while I am at it, I am also totally stealing the way she's displaying her Yahoo! Avatar on her sidebar, neener. And while I am already so busy with changing my sidebar, I have also added a little link to my BBT chart - for your daily dose of TMI!)

Our Timeline...

February 18, 2003: first laid eyes upon each other, as we were both snoozing away in our 7AM graphic design class - at a quarter to 7AM. I noticed his handsomeness immediately (- even though he wore his beanie which I now lovingly refer to as his condom-head accessory), but was not impressed, because a) it was 7AM, and b) I had a boyfriend.

2 weeks later: blatant absence of instructor caused us to talk with each other for the first time, as the class started to slowly mingle and actually warm up to each other. total small talk. tried not to be impressed, because - HELLO! - boyfriend!

March 11, 2003: accidentally ended up sitting next to Geo. I swear, it was an accident!!!

sometime soon after: got ripped a second one by instructor during project crit, while Geo tried to stare my clothes off my body from behind me - or so he told me he did later. was treated for coffee afterwards - to "help me get over the bad crit".

timespan of next couple of weeks: was treated for coffee several more times, then breakfast, then another breakfast. until he one afternoon called me at my boyfriend's house, talking about some school stuff, and then suddenly asking me out on a date, the upcoming Friday.

the upcoming Friday: went on our first date, went to Hollywood. walked around Hollywood Blvd., I got my very first taste of Cold Stone Ice Cream (we shared a bowl), then ate at McD's, then was kissed mercilessly - despite - HELLO! - boyfriend!

the following Sunday: went hiking in Griffith Park. broke it off with boyfriend just in time before my conscience would weigh on me heavily. bad karma - I lived in the same house with him for another 6 months. :(

a couple of weeks later: decided to break it off, because of the living situation and the high bad karma bill.

two days later: decided this was a bad idea afterall.

April 6th, 2003: Geo asked me officially to be his girlfriend.

3 months into our relationship: I met Geo's mom for the first time during her brief stay in Los Angeles.

pretty exactly 6 months into our relationship: came back to LA from a vacation back home in Europe, was taken to Ben&Jerry's in Burbank - was told "I love you" for the first time... *melts at the memory*

July 2003: Geo got to meet my parents on their stopover in LA after their vacation in Hawaii.

October 1, 2003: moved into a small studio apartment in Eagle Rock.

October 2003 - July 2004: almost broke up many times, tiny living arrangement, different schedules and bad situation with landlord made life quite a toughie. still - on June 16th he proposed to me: in the middle of a fight to the tears!

August 1, 2004: we moved in with my bandmates in a house in Rosemead - life drastically improved, and yet it didn't really.

August 2, 2005: packed up and left Los Angeles to move to my home country - especially tough for Geo, who has no chance to get back to the US - and his family there - ever again.

January 1, 2006: finally set our wedding date, after tiptoeing around the topic for months.

January through September 2006: lots of experimenting and taking our relationship further than we ever thought we would, lots of self-defining and re-defining... growing together even closer in the exciting process.

September 9, 2006: we got married in a Viennese castle... the most beautiful wedding we could have dreamed of... and I walked down the aisle in a wedding dress tailored especially for me by my MIL.

September 11 - October 10, 2006: went on our honeymoon in México - a dream vacation that including everything from family time after 8 years of not seeing them on Geo's part, to endless hours on people-barren postcard beaches, and cultural sightseeing-overkill. I got pregnant on first try, and we found out about it 2 weeks before flying back home. Our bliss was perfect.

October 11, 2006: miscarried our first child.

October 13, 2006: went to the hospital for a D&C, spent the following month in a very deep hole, which I would never have found out of if it wasn't for the endless love and support of my husband.

since December 2006: "working" hard on completing our little family with a child that I will hopefully be able to carry full-term this time... many ways our wedding has just really started off our relationship, in the most exciting and future-shaping ways we never thought were possible. We have grown together so much in the process, in good times as well as in bad, and throughout all of this, we have never lost our sense of wonder over being with each other, and our undying passion for each other. On April 6 we will celebrate our 4 year anniversary of being together, maybe already as a little family in the making. I truly wish this for the both of us, for this dream to become true soon... to make our life even more perfect than it is - if this is even possible.

We may not have much in the material sense - or at least not yet, but we are slowly working on things step by step, pulling together hard in the same direction, and we see the progress almost on a daily basis. Yet we have all that we really need - he has me, and I have him... and that's all that will ever count for the decades to come.

Happy pre-Valentine's Day.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

'gimme that apron!!!

Who would have thought what the wheel of time (and a desperate need for a child) can do to a fun-loving, ex-bass-playing, cooking-inept, computer-geeky and sex-crazed girl like me!

Today I not only bought, but got horribly excited over a new set of dishes that my current kitchen is WAY too small to hold, and will be kept in storage until we move this summer. And I DO mean: EXCITED. The kind of excited I used to get when I used to buy myself a new computer game, or new clothes, or a new electronical gadget, or chocolate at the store - or got laid!!!

I am getting homely!

But c'mon... what a bargain, too! I wouldn't have bought it otherwise, but the set, usually worth around € 300 was being sold for an "introductory price" of € 45 total! It's ceramics, good for microwaving and dishwashers, and a new designer collection - hence the introductory price. My set includes: a cooking pot, 2 soufflé pots (round and square), a salad bowl, a sugar bowl, 4 x-large coffee cups, 8 soup plates, 8 regular plates and 9 oversize decorative plates. Combine that with the teapot I bought, the water carafe and the set of 6 wine glasses - and I really wonder if this is what I am inevitably turning into:

Friday, February 09, 2007

on being alone...

I had a long talk with my friend Auntie#K yesterday, when she mercifully took my desolate self out for dinner to rescue me from the ever shrinking and suffocating walls of my empty apartement.

The point of discussion was my inability to be alone for more than 5 minutes at a time. You see, I like to have alone-time, but that obviously isn't the same as being alone. Even though I am quite the misanthrope on a daily basis, I have spent pretty much my entire life with and around people... and the only time I actually lived by myself I had to get myself a cat and antidepressants to keep myself from throwing myself off the balcony of my fifth floor apartment from all my loneliness.

You see, I lived with my parents and sister for 22 years. Then I almost attempted suicide because I decided that living alone would be a good idea. Then I lived with a boyfriend, which soon turned into some sort of commune situation for a good year. Then I lived with my now-husband for almost a year, and then to save rent and other expenses we moved in with my now-brother-in-law and our other bandmate, who frequently had his children over, and lived like that for another year. And since we are back in Austria, obviously Geo and I have been together. With two cats.

Auntie#K mentioned how I have been following such strategies ever since she can remember, not only in living situations, but in my love life as well. Looking back, I'd say I had 2 really serious relationships, one of them being my marriage, obviously. Timewise, they were quite far apart - but I was never alone. As one relationship ended I wasn't "single" for two weeks before I started the next one. Rebound after rebound, during which I licked my wounds, got over the real loss, and then moved on. Not exactly fair to those rebound guys... but at least I was never alone, having to actually deal with this situation. Not so Auntie#K, who is quite reluctant of entering another relationship when one has ended, and that for very long times. She's been living alone for over three years now - and she's used to it. Needless to say, she was laughing at me for pummeling down into my little hole because Geo is a whopping three hours away for a grand total of four days.

And the worst thing is, I am hating this misery I am feeling. I find it ridiculous myself. I hate that I am so depending on being with him, that I obviously cannot function right when he's not here. I miss him with such an intensity and so much passion... I could barely sleep at all without feeling him by my side, or feeling his warm breath on my skin.

I hate that, when I had the chance to, I have never learned to be alone and be happy with it.

On the good side - I feel again like I did when Geo and I were still dating, and we would spend time with each other once or twice a week. I feel like I did in the days between our dates, when time seemed to move through sticky honey, and I felt that I would barely manage to survive from one date to the next. I appreciate these feelings now, it makes me feel like a teenager with her first crush again, and I love the fact that I do feel like that about him after almost four years of being inseparable. This feeling of awe and wonder that I am with a person like him has never left me, sometimes I am still amazed that I found him, that we went through with our relationship despite all odds (that may be a story for another day), that a person like him fell in love with me. This feeling is as strong as it ever was, it just sometimes gets overshadowed by all the daily stress and routine that we sometimes let ourselves get carried away with... so in an odd way, and despite all the pain that our short separation is causing me, I am actually kind of thankful for it.

Happy 5-month wedding anniversary to us. :)

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


Well, if you happened to check my BBT chart (link provided in previous post), it will not make sense anymore with the actual post itself. The new portal I found turned out to be very helpful, and I was told to take out last Saturday's measured temperature, since I woke up way too late that day, so the temperature was uncharacteristically high.

So I took it out and, voilà: I have a perfect little curve that indicates that I had indeed ovulated last Sunday or Monday. Nothing's for certain yet, but I feel a pang of relief that I am moving within the realms of normalcy. :)

That said, I will be spending some time alone starting tomorrow. My boss is taking Geo on a small tour until late Sunday night, where Geo will assist him in his slide presentations on the other side of Austria. I am not sure how I feel about that... on the one hand it means a nice extra chunk of money that we didn't count on, on the other hand it means four days without my husband. We haven't been separated since our days in Los Angeles, and I am afraid of being alone - even though I could need some quiet time to myself: work on our company website undisturbedly, play a bit of my game, veg around, spend some time with the family...

Good thing that potential impregnation time is already past, otherwise I would have chained myself to him, no matter where he went... *lol*

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

no ovulation...

Well, from the looks of it I would say that I am not ovulating this month - or at least not yet. I compared my current BBT chart with others, and it most closely resembles those that show no ovulation at all.

Maybe I am just impatient and it is yet to happen, but I am already on day 18 - what are the odds?

I have found another online portal,, a German resource site that deals with women wanting to get pregnant, and offering nifty tools like an online BBT chart for free. Don't believe me about that non-ovulation theory? Check it out. And yes, before you feel compelled to snicker, we do have a lot of sex. I am married to a Latino. A Latino who wants to become a father. What can I say?

Usually I feel like I am the most occupied with this babymaking business - more than my husband, anyway. Sometimes it feels like he has no specific preference towards me becoming pregnant or not, but that he is gladly along for the ride... getting laid almost every day? Not a bad deal! Right on, woman! Sometimes I even feel as if he secretly hopes for a few more months of no success, so that this phase of bunny-humping will last just a little bit longer, before the hormones kick in and he runs a very realistic danger of not getting any anymore at all.

See? This is my set of mind, most of the time. But I don't mind... he's great in the sack, we have a lot of fun, and he sends reinforcements for his guys constantly - which only servers my purpose. So imagine my surprise and the surge of love with which my heart suddenly threatened to explode, when the other day - completely out of nowhere and quite unrelated to any sexual advances - Geo suddenly sighed and said: "I so want to have a baby..."

Ok. No. Up until now I was not the only one wanting this. It is understood and talked through that we both do. It's what responsible couples do. But I have never heard it from his lips like that before, and certainly never with so much love, and emotion, and most of all yearning. It was the most beautiful thing he has said in a while, and it just made me melt, and fall in love with this wonderful man even more.

There is no greater feeling than the knowledge that you and your partner are pulling on the same rope, equally strong, 100% of the time - especially when it comes to big decisions like this one. I never imagined that conscious trying to conceive would be tied in with so much love and so much "growing together" as a couple. I heard in many cases that a bit of the opposite was the case, especially when lovemaking became this annoying "chore" that stood between you and potential fertilization.

I never want it to get to this point with us, no matter how much longer it'll take us.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Hauntings of the Past long gone...

When somebody of your past, somebody who has deceived you and lied to you and messed up the lives of people close to you with his lies, somebody who has used you, played on your belief in the good of people, played on your sympathy for the terminally ill, and has left people close to you picking up the pieces of life as they had known it before this somebody's appearance even long after he was gone... when you find somebody like that again on the internet, when you hoped thought he was dead, very much alive, along with an option to leave this somebody a message, what do you do?

Do you seek closure, do you seek some weak form of revenge even if it is only verbally, do you seek explanations, justification, an apology... or do you just let it go? Do you pass the link on to those close to you whose lives were changed drastically to the negative because of this person, to give them the opportunity to come to their own closure, or do you just let it go?

Do you just move on, after four years worth of water under the bridge? Do you let it be, and let the people in his life make their own experiences with this person, without warning? But what good would a warning be... we have gotten our own share of these, and didn't ever pay any heed to them, so deeply were we entangled in his web of lies and false reassurances and great acting.

A person I assumed dead based on his own lies shows back up on the WWW safe and sound, unknowingly presenting me with an opportunity to say something to him.

What do you say after four years? After your faith and trust in people has irrevocably been destroyed and your ability of making new friends has greatly suffered because of it, after even white lies have become your number one reason to kick people out of your life again faster than they could blink, after every statement of every loved person undergoes close examination and inspection for any hint of the slightest untruth? After continuing nightmares of deception and loss and betrayal that spread their panic-like anxienty into my every day life ever since?

What kind of message will do the situation justice? A well-blended mix of bile, hatred and well wishes for the future? At least that's what it turned out to be... and before I hit the send-button, I decided to put in my current e-mail address for good measure. Hoping for... I don't know... maybe a reply... maybe some sort of contact, an opportunity to face him with everything his sudden departure has caused? Closure?

What would you have done? Should I just have let it go and leave the rotten bones of the past in the closet...?

Friday, February 02, 2007


The job interview? Well, I dunno. Either I was very politely told to bugger off, or I really will receive that phone call that I was promised, "once the position is actually vacant".

Turned out that out of the two positions offered, the one for prepress technician with graphic knowledge was more immediate and imminent than the one for graphic designer with prepress knowledge. However, the boss was nice, knowledgeable, and looked like someone I would like to work for simply for all her knowlegde in advertising and marketing, that I could learn a lot from. She also said with a smile that she thinks the "chemistry" between her and I was right, gave me her card with her cell phone number, and told me she will call me in March/April, once the graphic design position is available.

Oh well. At least that'll give me enough time to also apply elsewhere, and since the major production at work has been finished by now as well things slowed down a bit again so I have some opportunities to breathe at work again. Or to do other things. Like blogging, or some photomanipulation:

Click here for a complete reference of copyrights and sources.

Anyway. BBT charting? I am all confused about this. According to my research, my temperature should be quite even before ovulation, then drop noticeably right before ovulation, then continue on quite evenly again a bit higher than it was before ovulation. So far, so good. Mine? All over the place, from day one. And I don't think I am doing this wrong - unless there is anything one can do wrong with sticking a digital thermometer into one's mouth right after the alarm goes off?

Today is day 14 and, coincidentally enough, yesterday morning I observed a quite dramatic temperature drop of several tenths of a degree, after my curve has been jumping up and down quite irregularly up until yesterday. I got excited and proceeded with fertilization attempts quite excessively - expecting the telltale dramatic rise today, indicating that I had - indeed - ovulated.

And? ...nothing. No major rise, anyway. I thought that temperature charting would be a bit more exciting, like the final door to understanding and reading my own body, but it's actually nothing short of frustrating and annoying, and leaving me just as clueless about my ovulation as I was before.

And to add to my frustration, I suffered a crying spell while watching Desperate Housewives' Gabrielle letting go of that red balloon to symbolize the life lost to her. I felt quite ridiculous as I found myself sobbing on the couch, triggered by a stupid scene on a stupid TV show. I really thought I was over it for good, that I left this behind and am looking positively into the future... but apparently I fooled myself. It's been 4 months, and a scene on TV manages to turn on the faucets again. I haven't cried over this for a very long time, that's why it was so surprising that seeing this has hit me so hard.

I wonder if it'll actually ever go away for good. :(