Monday, November 29, 2010

A Letter to A Prospective Foster Parent...

This is an email that I sent to someone asking me about fostering. She and her husband are considering becoming foster parents. I thought I'd share it with you.

Since we live in NC, I'm can only tell you about the process we went through here. However, I do have some friends who have gone through the process in AZ and have both adopted a few children over the years. I can hook you up with them if you'd like. I know they'll be happy to share any information with you.

As for our experience, which I'm guessing is pretty close to the AZ experience, has so far, been pretty easy. Long and sometimes tedious, but easy.

We are going through a private agency rather than Social Services. Our eventual goal is to adopt and we feel like an agency is a better fit for us to be sure we find the right fit for our family. From what I understand, Social Services is typically desperate to place children and may not be completely forthcoming with information. Also, because of that desperation, they have a tendency to not worry so much about a good fit for the child or your family because they are more concerned with finding a place for the child/children to stay. This may just be a NC thing. Like I said, I'm not familiar with how AZ does it.

Another plus to working with an agency is that because they are privately funded, they tend to have more resources available and offer more support.

For our situation, we went through 30 hours of training- 3 hours per week for ten weeks. We had an initial home visit with the social workers at about, the 8th week. They just came in, took a look around, checked out our bedrooms and told us how many kids we could be licensed for. After we were done with our training we had a fire inspection and another home visit to finalize paperwork. We started this process in June and we're still waiting for our license. It feels like it's taking FOREVER!

Our training was incredible. We went over so much information about children, parents, foster scenarios, issues that the children deal with, issues the parents deal with and the issues that we, as the foster home will deal with. The main goal was to teach us how to be loss and attachment experts since these are the two biggest concerns for all involved. The children losing their parents, their home, friends, school, etc.. The birth parents losing their children and us potentially losing the kids that we will mostly likely become attached to.

There was A LOT of paperwork, A LOT of homework and A LOT, I mean A LOT of self discovery. It was extremely emotionally draining. I struggled with several issues that I didn't even know I had due to my own childhood while working on my profile packet which asked LOTS of personal questions. In the end, it was extremely helpful, allowed me to come to terms with things I hadn't really acknowledged, and in the end, gave me an invaluable sense of peace.

For our home, we had to create a fire evacuation route, get the CORRECT fire extinguisher (that took a few tries) remove all of our extension cords ( we live in an old house with few outlets so we had to get creative) and basically childproof form the floor up. We don't have any kids of our own so our home was well, not childproof at all. :)

I have a correction to make. I just got off the phone with our social worker and it turns out that she did not get the email I thought I had sent her about the beds we bought, so she hadn't sent off our paperwork. She's actually doing it today. Looks like it might be closer to February now. Oh well!

Do you have any specific questions? I'd be happy to answer any questions that I can help with.

What are your goals? Long term foster? Respite? (weekend care, very temporary) short term? Adoption? Do you have kids of your own? Where are you in the process right now?

One thing that I have noticed is that this has really been an up and down experience. There has been lots of excitement followed by lots of doubt, but thankfully our family and friends have been so supportive. A good support system is vital if this is what you plan to do. People will think that you're amazing and doing "such a good thing" but it's important to maintain a serious sense of realism as it's easy to get caught up in what some will see as charity. I don't know how to explain it any other way-- but I know what I mean. ;-)

Please let me know what I can do to help! I can't wait to hear about your journey!

Friday, November 19, 2010

The latest in the reproductive saga

I know, I know, it's been a long time since I mentioned anything about my reproductive organs...I'm sorry. I'm sure it's been driving you crazy not knowing how my ovaries are doing. So here's an update.

First of all, the reason I haven't written about this stuff in a long time is because, well, it just hasn't been much of an issue. This is a good thing. Brett and I finished our foster parenting classes and are SO close to getting our license. Working on that has been a nice distraction from stressing about ovulation. We did our 30 hours of training, prepared our house with fire extinguishers and outlet covers, moved all of our cleaning supplies to our utility room, installed a new locking door knob on the utility room, installed blanks in our unused circuits on our circuit breaker, got all the animals their rabies vaccinations, bolted the big bookshelf to the wall and replaced all extension cords with surge protectors. It was quite a feat. We've passed all of our inspections with flying colors and now we're just waiting on our background checks to come through. THEN we can send off our paper work to get our license.

We also traveled a bit- went on a cruise, spent 10 days in Chicago and I, of course, went to Panama for business. So you see...we've kept ourselves very busy!

All in all, things have been really great. It's been nice not worrying about what was going on with my ovaries. What's even better, is that I'm still not worrying...well, mostly.

Back in August, when we went for our physicals, required by the state for fostering (I forgot to mention that check mark) I saw a different doctor than I usually see. (My normal doctor was ironically on maternity leave) So, anyway, the new doc asked why we were fostering and I told him that it was just something we'd (I'd, but Brett has been down with it since the first time I mentioned it) always wanted to do and that since we may not be able to have children, it is a good option for us that will hopefully lead to adoption. That started a conversation about my ovaries and which led to him recommending progesterone therapy.

Long story short, I started progesterone therapy in October and have had my first successful period. It was pretty fricken rad. It was light, only lasted four days and came all by itself- no nasty provera (the period inducing drug that requires me to stay home bound for several days).

While all of this progesterone talk was going on, I got an email from a friend of mine who works at the hospital in Charlotte. The email was regarding a study that's taking place where she works testing two fertility drugs on women with PCOS. At first I resisted. I sent her a reply that said something along the lines of: thank you for thinking of me, but we're not planning to start trying again any time soon. And that was that.

Well a few weeks went by and the more I thought about it, but more I began to change my mind. Brett and I had decided that we would start trying again after the first of the year anyway, and well, it just kinda made sense to give it a whirl.

I called the number listed in the email (which I had saved, just in case) and talked to the intake specialist. She asked me a series of questions and then said that someone would contact me with more information. That afternoon I got an email saying that it appeared that I was a good candidate and that in order to move forward in the process I need a clean pap smear and HSG. A pap I could handle, I was due for one anyway, but an HSG? What the crap is that? Thanks to Google, I quickly found out exactly what it is. I'll tell you in a bit.

So I immediately schedule my pap, which I had to schedule as an emergency pap, because I had just started the progesterone and didn't know if it was going to work or when my spontaneous bleeding by reoccur. Fortunately, the doctors office, after some negotiating, scheduled me for that week. While I was there, I told my GYN about the study and asked him if he would order an HSG, which by the way stands for hyterosalpingogram. (I just learned out to say it two days ago) He was happy to do it for me, and that was that.

This brings us to yesterday, the day of the HSG. Are you ready to know what it is? Okay, so...basically, it's a diagnostic procedure done by a Radiologist that entails, putting a catheter in your cervix, shooting dye into your uterus and fallopian tubes and then taking a series of X-rays. Fortunately the entire procedure only takes a few minutes, but that doesn't make it any less uncomfortable- it felt like an eternity. However, it was worth it. He was able to tell me right away that everything looks good. No obstructions. Fallopian tubes are wide open. Yay!

And that's that. Now if we can just get my ovaries to cooperate, and as long as Brett has good swimmers, we'll be in good shape! --That's next by the way. I got an email from the study coordinator this morning that said as soon as she gets my test results they will schedule the sperm analysis. He says he'll do it-- but that collection kit I told you about way back in March(?) is still sitting on his desk-- unopened. Hehe

So that's all for now. That's the latest. Won't know anything else for a while, until at least January at the earliest.

Oh and, just while I was writing this blog, an email came in from our social worker. Our background check came through and she's sending off our packet to the state! We will be licensed with in 50 days!!

Until then, we have our trip to Phoenix and a trip to San Fransisco (I have to go for work, but Brett is going to come along) to look forward to!

Life is good!

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The Panama Experience

While sitting in the conference room where I had been keeping my computer I decided to start a journal of my Panamanian adventures.

I didn’t have internet connectivity because even though they enabled the network for me, they didn’t give me the password. And although I was able to connect on Tuesday, I was unable to connect Wednesday. So I sat there, in the conference room waiting, waiting for something to do. It’s what I did for the five workdays I was there. Wait.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m certainly not complaining. I had a great time here in Panama. The clients that worked with are incredible people. They welcomed me with not just open arms, but with open hearts as well. They saw that all my wants and needs were met. They paid for my flight, and my hotel, even allowing me to stay two extra days so I could explore a bit on my own. I was told to order whatever I want at the four-star resort and charge it to the room. They picked me up and dropped me off, bought me lunch and worked hard to make accommodations for my American ways…even though I preferred otherwise. I truly had a wonderful time; I just wish I felt like I had “earned my keep”.

Three out of the five workdays I was there, I was picked up at about 11:30am- even though the scheduled time was 11am on Monday, 9:30 on Tuesday and 9:00 on Wednesday. In America, if you were two hours late for anything, especially if you didn’t call to tell the person you were running late, you’d be considered a failure, or at the very least, rude.
So when David (my ride) was running two hours behind, I felt like I was running two hours behind and therefore felt responsible for my tardiness-- even though no one cared.

I had heard that Latinos are typically more laid back than us uptight Americans, but I had never really experienced it first-hand. The thing is, it’s not the tardiness that is funny, it’s what comes after the tardiness—at least here in Panama, with these specific employees at this particular company with which I am working.
Like I said, I get picked up at about 11:00am, from there we drive. And drive and drive and drive. Until today I was pretty sure we had been driving in circles, after today, I am positive! I really paid attention this morning. Right turn, left turn, right turn, left turn, left turn, left turn, right turn. It’s like we’re making a really bad etch-a-sketch drawing with the city as our board. The best part is that going home is much different. Going home, we make about four turns. And it takes a quarter of the time to make the trip. Now you might be thinking that this is just because of traffic, but you’d be wrong. On Monday, I had forgotten something at the hotel but it wasn’t until we were about 20 minutes into our drive that I realized it. So I said to Aritza, she’s the one that was driving, “oh no! I forgot the power cords for the ticket printers”. So she said, “okay, I’ll take you back to the hotel.” We were there within five minutes. I asked her why it took 20 minutes to get where we were and only five to get back to the hotel and she just laughed.

Funny stuff, no?

So Monday, I got picked up at 11, get to the office about 12. Then I stand around, sit on the couch, stand around, sit on the couch for 30 minutes—while the boss, Marilyn stand in the middle of the office talking very excitedly on the phone, pacing back and forth with quick little steps while her high heeled shoes clicked on the tile floor in a room with absolutely no sound absorption what-so-ever. Click, click click. Click, click, click. “Muy para donde esta bien importante” I had NO idea what she was actually saying and it was all I could to not bust out laughing at what I was witnessing. It’s not that she was being funny, or like I wanted to make fun of her it was just the entire situation. There I was, sitting in a strange building in a strange country watching my new friend have a very passionate conversation about SOMETHING that sounded very dramatic which abruptly ended in “ciao”. Then she announced something about David and cumpleanos! A minute later Aritza, turned to me and said, “come, we’re going to the store”.

On our way to the store, which is in the same shopping plaza as the office, we ran into Jose. He was coming to tell them that his boss wanted to meet me. So he and I went on and Marilyn and Artiza went to the store.

Jose, is a Chinese-Panamain, who it turns out, speaks Spanish first, then Cantonese and then English. Cool, yeah? Anyway, he takes me up to the top floor of the high-rise next-door to the plaza where I meet, “the boss”. His immaculate office was decorated in a modern fashion and showed not one sign of any actual work being done. I found this even funnier than Marilyn’s click, click, clicking. In fact, I was having a hard time concentrating on my conversation with this guy because all I could think was, “what do you do all day?”
Fortunately, he also spoke English.

After this brief, like five minute encounter, Jose returned me to the ticket office where we quickly decorated David’s desk with the balloons and banners that Marilyn and Aritza had purchased from the, earlier mentioned, store. We finished just in time, because as soon as the last Hershey’s Kiss was strategically placed on his desk, he came sauntering in. We all (the three of us) sang Happy Birthday and giggled like three school girls then Artiza said, “Now you go to lunch with Marilyn”. I thought to myself, what? I’ve only been here 45 minutes! But, okay, I do what I’m told. Besides, I still wasn’t sure what I was in Panama for anyway.
Lunch was at Stizzoli, a small, modern Italian restaurant that offers brick oven pizza. The lunch was a sending-off for a co-worker that was leaving the company. The night before, when Marilyn, her husband Jorge and I were eating a VERY late dinner she asked me my nationality. I told her Italian, but that my family had been in America for several generations. I told her that I didn’t speak Italian and that I had never been to Italy, but she was so excited to introduce me to the owner of the restaurant, telling him that I was Italian. He of course asked me what part of Italy and expected me to speak the language. I just shook my head, laughed and explained. I teased Marilyn for falsifying my culture she just laughed. That led to much more laughter and my “being Italian” has since become an ongoing joke as she thinks it’s funny to introduce me that way.

Speaking of Marilyn, the first night I met her was Sunday when she and her husband picked me up from the airport. After going through immigration and customs I walked through a set of doors to a room full of people waiting to pick up arriving passengers. I scanned the dozens of people and quickly spotted a woman standing with a sign that said, my last name and under that, my company's name. I made eye contact with her, waved and began to approach her. She looked behind her thinking that I was waving at someone else. When she looked back I waved again, that’s when she realized that I was me. A big smile came across her face as she leapt towards me to give me a big welcoming hug. She called her husband over, who had been standing at the other entrance, introduced me to him as Jorge and then asked me if I spoke Spanish, to which I replied “muy piquito”. (I have no idea how to spell that or if it’s even proper Spanish)

“Ahhhhh! No Espanol?”

“Piquito, muy, muy piquito”

“Jorge speak English”

“Ok, good.” I felt a bit relieved.

The introduction continued as we walked from the air conditioned airport out into the thick, balmy, humid, words cannot describe, outdoors. We yammered on for the next 30 minutes in the car then at dinner in the hotel restaurant-- Jorge translating whenever necessary. Talk, talk, talk- much like the clicking of the heels. It was truly delightful. We were having a great time, learning about each other- mostly learning about me. I was asked several questions about my life and my trip and where I’d been and do I have children and what do I like to do for fun and…we just talked, talked, talked. The only difficult part of the conversation was when Jorge asked me what was going on with Arizona’s government. That was a tough conversation to have with the language barrier. Even with Jorge’s good English, I knew some of what I was saying was completely going over his head.

When I got back to my room I was beaming with joy after spending two hours with Jorge and…? Jorge and …? It was then that I realized I didn’t know who had picked me up! Through emails that I had exchanged over the previous months I knew that there was a Kari, a Marilyn and an Aritza, but I had no idea which one I had just met. She didn’t introduce herself, and we got so caught up in our conversation that I didn’t even think to ask. It wasn’t until the next morning when she and Aritza picked me up that I was able to find out who this mystery woman was!

So here’s a funny little, “you know you’re not in the US when…”story for you… When I arrived that the hotel to check in, the front desk attendant informed me that they had assigned me a cabana room that was pool-front but the electricity was going to be turned off at 2am that evening for a couple of hours. I was given the option to move to a standard room if I preferred. I’m pretty convinced that if this was the case at home, I would not have been given the option. I would have just been moved automatically. I, of course, opted to go without power for two hours for one night and enjoy the pool-view the rest of the week. At that point, I didn’t realize just how nice the “pool-view” would be—complete with a private patio conveniently located next to not only the pool, but both within eyeshot of the two restaurants located on the property. It turns out, I really couldn’t have asked for a better room so it was certainly worth sleeping through a power-outage that would take place that night.
Unfortunately, as it was, I wasn’t asleep when the outage took place. I had been Skyping with Brett, telling him about my adventures when all the lights went out. Seconds later my computer died (because the battery sucks) and we were disconnected without getting the chance to say goodbye. I felt my way around the room, using my cell phone as a flashlight and eventually made it to bed; exhausted after a long day of travel and excitement.

By the end of my first day “working” I had sat around, eaten a delicious margarita pizza drizzled with pesto, met dozens of new people who spoke little, if no English at all, and sat around some more.

That night, I returned my hotel around 8pm, ate dinner, a lovely buffet at the restaurant, drank a local beer called “Panama”, talked to Brett on Skype and went to bed, when suddenly my uterus decided to give way that resulted in my waking up in a puddle—it was the disastrous cruise all over again.

Or was it?

Just like the rest of my golden trip to Panama, by the time I was ready to go to work the bleeding had subsided. So although I had a stressful early morning, worrying that I wasn’t going to make it through the day, it turned out to be okay. But I packed two extra changes of clothes, just in case.

That day, I got picked up at 11:30 (it was supposed to be 9:30) and when I got to the office I decided to go up to the IT department to see how things were going. When I got there, the two IT guys I had been working with were trying to trouble-shoot an issue they were having with the system. After much convincing I finally got them to call our IT department to resolve the issue. This was how much of my actual working-time was spent there. The IT guys would talk about something, a lot, for a long time, in Spanish, while I sat there, grasping at familiar words, knowing that they were beating a dead horse, convinced that there was nothing they could do to fix it. When I would ask if there was something I could do to help, they would say “no” and continue their conversation…they are a very passionate people.

This would go on a few more times- me asking if I could help and them saying “no” until finally I would ask what they were talking about and they would tell me, and ta da! I was able to help!! It was borderline hilarious!

Everyone was very stressed out this day because we were meeting with the CEO of the Panamanian equivalent of Wal-Mart that afternoon. This chain of stores had been contracted with to act as remote outlets for ticket sales.

At about 1:30, I was told that I was going to lunch. I was taken to a Brazilian restaurant where I had delicious mystery food and sangria. We finished lunch at 3:30—our meeting was scheduled for 4:00, it was a ten minute car-ride away. We left at 4:08.

The meeting, it turned out, was just with the accounting person at the chain since the CEO had to go to another meeting, because we were late. She didn’t speak any English. They showed her some reports on the system and then they suddenly packed up the laptop and the projector and we left. I had no idea how it went…turns out, it went well. But the best part for me was the ride to and from the meeting. I got to sit in the back seat with Jose, the English-speaking, Chinese, Panamanian. He told me all about their government. About their socialized medicine, government mandated employee benefits and social security. Turns out, everyone insured. There are very few, and I mean VERY few, homeless people. Pregnant women cannot be fired from their jobs while they are pregnant, nor can they be fired for one year after they give birth. They are given three months of FULL PAID leave- one month before the due date and two months after. Employers have to pay their employees for 13 months of work. Everyone is paid on the 1st and the 15th of each month and the 13th month of pay is paid in three installments: 1/3 in April, 1/3 in August and 1/3 in December. This helps boost the economy every four months. Fascinating stuff I tell you, fascinating.

Jose also mentioned that he does not use public healthcare, and although he is taxed for it, he still uses private doctors and hospitals…

The live test, the reason I was there (even though I didn’t know it until two days after I had been there) was to start the next day. Everyone was very nervous about it. My client built a pretend concert event in the system so that the outlet stores could practice selling tickets. At 5:30 on Tuesday they were frantically trying to find 100 people to go to the stores located around the city and buy tickets for five dollars to a fake event.

Tuesday night, I returned to the hotel at about 9pm, ate dinner- a delicious steak with coconut rice and beans, talked to Brett and at midnight I went for a dip in the pool. I had to the whole place to myself. It was delightful.
After a long hot shower, I curled up in my comfy bed, in the chilly air conditioned room under the warm down comforter and slept like a baby.

Wednesday morning:

Up at 7:30, dressed and ready to go by 9:00 for my 9:30 pick up…David arrived at 11:00. This day I brought my camera. I started taking pictures as we pulled out of the hotel, just to document the route to the office. David decided to take the scenic route. We passed by the Pacific Ocean, went through a private gated community, stopped by his house to pick something up, drove through the ghetto (a neighborhood where even the police won’t go after dark) and finally arrived at the office at 1:00pm. When we got there, I was told to go over to Quiznos to have lunch with Aritza. So I did. I thought I had ordered a spicy chicken sandwich with pepper-jack cheese (based on the picture) but it turned out it was a chicken sandwich with honey mustard. Good thing I like honey mustard.

After lunch I sat around and waited until David said, “let’s go!”. I was told that I was going to one of the stores to buy some tickets. I asked if I should help the sales person if he or she had any trouble processing the order. I was told “no, this is just for practice.” When we got to the store, David went behind the counter, messed around with the computer, processed an order, printed a ticket and we left. I had done nothing and I was confused. When got out to the parking lot I asked David what had just happened, he tried to explain but I wasn’t sure I understood. It seemed like he was saying that they could not use the system because there was no icon on the desktop. I told him I could fix it, but he said no, so we left.

Turns out, there was a virus on the computer. I guess that makes sense.
That night, Aritza took me out for dinner and a show at a Panamanian restaurant. We ate yummy appetizers and I ordered chicken which came with a side of coconut rice sprinkled with black beans. She ordered the Yucca Pot Pie (at least that’s what I’m calling it) and it was out of this world! It was chicken and vegetables in a gravy covered with mashed Yucca and baked. Kind of like a shepherd’s pie. If you’ve never tried yucca, I highly recommend it. So good!

Got back to the hotel, called Brett and went to sleep. The next day was going to be a busy one, full of meetings about how the live test had gone the day before.
Thursday morning, I woke up, showered, got dressed, ate breakfast and wait for the phone in my room to ring telling me that David was there to pick me up. He was supposed to be there at 9. When he hadn’t arrived at 11, I wasn’t too worried, I assumed he was just running later than usual. I decided to just lie on the bed and wait. At 12:30, I woke up from an unexpected nap, looked and the clock and thought, hmmm…guess he’s running especially late, but I still wasn’t too worried. Come 2:00 I decided it was time to be a little concerned so I called Jose (because he speaks English) and told him that I hadn’t heard from anyone yet today and asked if he knew what was going on. He was very surprised and extremely apologetic. I told him there was nothing to apologize for, I just wanted to be sure everything and everyone was okay. He told me he’d find out and send me an email to let me know. At this point I was starving, so I went to lunch and when I came back to my room I had a message that said, “I’m so sorry we were not able to pick you up today. I will call you later if we can pick you up.” I took this to mean that they may still pick me up, so I sat in my room and waited.

At 6:00 I decided they probably weren’t coming and that it was safe to leave my room. So I did. I went for a walk around the block. A miserable walk around the block. It was so hot and the air was so thick it was all I could do to get back to my room. I hung around in the AC for a bit then went to the bar, had some sangria, ate an empanada, came back to my room, Skyped with Brett and went to bed.
Friday would be last day working with my client and I was sad. I had made new friends with people who really touched my heart. Their warmth and hospitality made me feel like I had known them forever. Even though we didn’t speak the same language, we managed to communicate. In this short period of time we had establish inside jokes, were able to tease each other about our inability to speak the other’s language and we managed to get stuff done- working as a team despite our vast differences. And although I didn’t feel like I had done much to help them, they were very pleased with what we were able to accomplish.

I was planning to be picked up at 9:30 because that’s what time I was told, which by this point I knew actually meant 11:00, but only seconds after my alarm went off at 7:30, my phone rang. It was Marilyn calling to tell me she was going to be there at 8:30. Crap! That was NOT enough time to get ready and eat breakfast!! So I rushed. I had just finished doing my hair when the phone rang. It was 8:40 and she was in the lobby waiting for me.

When we got to the office, we sat around and chatted for a while, I went next door to Subway and got a Veggie Delight for breakfast and then we headed to the main building for a meeting with the CEO.

Jorge was incredibly kind, well spoken, and surprisingly calm and level headed. We (they) discussed the live test and talked about ways to make their process better. I was able to offer some assistance and everyone seemed pleased with the results, knowing that it was not quite perfect yet, but with time, it would get better and easier. I was amazed. For some reason, I kept thinking that there would be some kind of drama, but there wasn’t. It was just easy. Everything had been easy.
After the meeting, the girls I had been working with so closely throughout the week, took me to see the Panama Canal. We got there just in time. A huge ship was actually moving through the Miraflores Lock, and I got to witness it! We dined in the classy restaurant located on the viewing deck and I got to see firsthand just how the Panama Canal worked. It was incredible. I felt very lucky.

When we returned to the office we had one last meeting to go over some reports that showed the data from the last two days and then I had to say goodbye. Hugs and kisses all around.

I was dropped off at the hotel at about 6pm. I ate pizza for dinner that night and enjoyed the amazing dessert buffet, called Brett, painted my nails, took a nice hot shower, watched some TV and went to bed-- ready for the next day’s adventure into the rainforest to spend the day with the Embera Indians.

Friday, June 25, 2010

I should also mention...

We started foster parenting classes last week and we're both really excited about the possibilities. So I just want to go on record as saying that this funk is not because my life sucks and I'm feeling sorry for myself, it's because I just feel awful, physically and it's very, very frustrating.

On my way to go buy a kiddie pool. I really think that will make me feel so much better.

Here's the deal...

I'm in a funk. A serious funk. I'll probably (hopefully) be okay in a day or two, but it may be longer. This may be the real thing. A REAL funk not just a bad mood or feeling down for a few days.

I can't remember if I blogged about the cruise. I don't think I did. The first of June Brett and I went on a cruise with my family to the Bahamas. It was really great spending time with my family just hanging out. The problem is that that's all I COULD do. I ended up getting my period the night before we left and it ended up being a real doozie. Like words can't describe the extremes of how bad it was. Suffice it to say that Saturday morning I went to the Lido deck for breakfast, sat down to eat, coughed, realized I needed to rush to the bathroom, stood up and dripped, literally DRIPPED all over the floor-- all while wearing THREE pads, like a diaper. It was bad. I spent the rest of the day in our cabin, moving from the bed to the shower every half hour. Needless to say it was quite miserable.

My mom and Gramma witness this episode and made me promise I would go to the doctor. As soon as we got to the mainland I called the doctor's office and made an appointment for the next day.

She ran all the typical blood work plus a full thyroid panel, hormone levels and some deficiencies including vitamin D and Iron plus she tested my sedimentation rate which check for inflammation. This test can determine whether you need to be tested further for things like lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, cancer, etc.

Now don't get too worried. As far as I know I don't have a life threatening disease. Even though that "scary" test came back positive for inflammation, I also tested positive for anemia which according to the research I did makes the former, null and void so I'm not rushing off to the rheumatologist just yet. I've been taking the prescribed iron supplements twice a day as directed and plan to get retested this week to see if my sed rate is better.

So where does the funk come from? Well it comes from extreme exhaustion. Like ridiculously extreme exhaustion. It's almost like the mono is back...maybe it never left. But this is a little different, plus I had felt completely fine for half of April and all of May. So I'm giving the credit to the anemia. This exhaustion is full body, including the mind and the mind is the most aggravating part. I constantly feel like I'm 10 seconds behind everything that's going on around me. I feel like my personality is gone, my sense of humor is missing and my funny has escaped. On top of this I feel the need for sunlight but it's too damned hot to be outside. Not to mention that whole exhaustion thing again which requires me to fight to stay awake.

I'm so effin sick of looking at the television. My ears feel like they're going to bleed if I have to listen to one more TV show. All I want to do is cry. I want to leave my house, go DO SOMETHING, but I can't think of anything to do that meets my needs and limitations.

I have this inexplicable urge to be at the beach- to lay on the beach and soak up the warm sun surrounded by fresh salty air, the crashing of the waves becoming white noise in the background and the water just feet away. But that's not an option this weekend.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! I'm going CRAZY!!!

I think I might go buy a kiddie pool and set it up in the backyard tomorrow.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Coming Clean

Yeah, I know, it's been close to forever since I last posted. I had good intentions but life got in the way. First it was the Mono, then it was travel then it was...forgotten about, then...put off, and off some more and off a little longer.

So what's been going on for the last few months? Well other than THE MONO incident, a trip to Gatlinburg, camping with friends at the lake and going to the beach with family-- not a whole heck of a lot. Oh wait, there was something else...we tried a round of clomid a few weeks back.

WHAT?! CLOMID? You mean you took it and didn't tell anyone?!?!?!

Yes, yes I did and it was miserable. I felt fine- hormonally and physically. I never experienced any side effects. That could be because it didn't work, but it could also be that I am just lucky. Lucky enough to not experience hot flashes, mood swings, headaches, etc. Did I mention it didn't work? Yeah, that's probably why.

Although I thought maybe it was working at the time, it turns out, according the blood tests that my progesterone levels did not indicate ovulation.

The funny thing is that even if it HAD worked, I still wouldn't have gotten pregnant. You see, there's this really important part of getting pregnant called SEX. That which, I made sure not to have after chickening out about getting pregnant at what was assumed, the last minute. Did you follow that? I think that sentence was kind of confusing. Let me rephrase the whole paragraph.

I took the clomid, on cycle days 5-9. According to the directions we were supposed to start doing, what all the message boards call, "the baby dance", on the 10th day. So the tenth day came and it was time to DO IT. What I thought would be this magical, highly anticipated dance, turned out to be nothing but miserable. The stress of it was so overwhelming that I just wanted to cry. It was awful.

We went camping the next day and when we came home I realized that I just couldn't even try. I was scared. Scared of being fat and pregnant. Actually, scared is not the right word. More like terrified. So I chickened out.

It's weird. I feel like I made the right decision, but at the same time I can't decide if I'm being selfish. I'm not asking for your opinion. I know you all support whatever I do and want me to be happy and healthy, but I just feel kind of...bad.

I know Brett is ready to have a baby. I know I'm ready to have a baby. I know what ever baby is in there is ready to become a baby, but I don't want to go through a pregnancy not even being able to tell that I am carrying a child. I want to be able to feel that baby, I want Brett to be able to feel it too. I want to have external belly ultrasounds, not internal vaginal ones because they can't see through the fat. I want people to be able to identify my pregnant belly. I want to be healthy and I want my child to be healthy. I know fat women get pregnant and have babies all the time, but I'm afraid to be one of them.

When the nurse called to tell me that I hadn't ovulated, she said that she was going to call in a new RX for the higher dose. I haven't picked it up yet. Don't know if or when I will.

For now, Brett and I are going to the gym, trying to eat better (as always) and trying to focus on summer vacations and anything and everything that doesn't involve US having a baby.

One more thing-- I need more than two hands to count how many friends and family members have either had beautiful, healthy babies or found out they were pregnant in the past three months.

Baby fever is hard to avoid.

Monday, March 8, 2010

So it's been a while! WARNING: (WAY) TMI to follow...

I have a tendency to write when I'm irritated and not so much when I'm feeling good. I THINK this is healthy. I like to think that writing gets it all out and when I'm feeling good I'm busy being happy. BUT, I don't want this to be a "downer blog" where everyone who reads just feels sorry for me all the time. Of course I have many difficulties and frustrations, but I also have many blessings in my life that I am thankful for every day.

So, okay, enough about that...

What has happened since my last entry? Well, A LOT of good things...minus the continued bleeding. Yes people, we're going on a whopping TWENTY-FIVE-MOTHER-EFFING DAYS! Last weekend was REALLY bad. There were many "blunderwear" casualties, as Brett likes to call them. Many calls from the bathroom..."BRETT!!! Will you please bring me some underwear?" He's a good sport. Never complains, might huff a little, but is sensitive to my frustrations. By the third day I decided to just grab a handful of clean pairs and left them next to the toilet. Took me long enough to figure that one out! DUH!

Nights were spent wearing what I called diapers. Basically three pads one running vertically and two on either end running horizontally. Not comfortable at all, and still hardly effective. Brett slept in the guest room and I slept on a towel. It was awesome. NOT!

We barely left the house, and when we did, we had to stay close to home in case I had an "accident". Pretty ridiculous eh?

By Tuesday it had slowed down enough to feel "normal" again, but it's still hanging on even today. Just enough to be annoying.

###

So here's a funny story for you...especially those of you wondering how I had strained my back last week---

Because of all this bleeding, I decided to try a new "period management method". Anyone heard of the Diva cup? Yeah, well if you haven't, it's basically a pliable, funnel shaped, silicone dixie-cup with a "stem" at the bottom. Sound like fun yet?

Well the genius that invented this was obviously very dexterous and fearless of potentially losing plastic utensils in HIS or her vagina.

There are two sizes to choose from. 1 and 2. 1 is for those under 30 who have never had children. 2 is for those over 30 whether you've had children or not- since I'm 32 I paid $40.00 dollars for the #2. Both sizes are actually the same price, but I wanted you to know how much I "invested" in the this little "project".

So, I buy this miracle contraption that fits into my "green" lifestyle which will keep me from adding to the landfill, save me money since this one-time investment will last about two years, AND, I'll only have to "deal" with it every twelve hours or so because that's the nature of the design.

Excited to try it out, I get home from the store. The specialty store I might add. The specialty store that's about 30 miles away and rush into the bathroom thinking this is going to make my life SOOOOO much easier!

Boy was I wrong. I know I could just leave it at this and that you could fill in the blanks, but I want to be sure you truly understand what I went through. It goes a bit like this...

I told you it was pliable right? Yeah, well, not really! Especially since in order to insert it you have to fold it in half, TWICE! Are you following me here?

The directions, (almost) verbatim:

Step 1: Fold- press the sides of the cup together and fold it in half again forming a tight U.

Step 2: With one hand, hold the sides firmly together with you thumb on one side and your *four (4) fingers on the other side just below the top ridge of the cup.

*I guess if you're missing fingers you're SOL

Step 3: Take a comfortable position, with your free hand...(blah, blah you get the idea)

WARNING: DO NOT push the stem further than 1/2 inch into the vagina. (who the hell knows how far that is??) Inserting the Diva Cup too high may cause leaks. Over insertion may also make removal more difficult. (or impossible!)

Step 4: You ready for this one? This is my favorite...

Step 4: IMPORTANT: Finally, in order to the create the seal with the vaginal muscle, grip the base of the cup (not the stem) and turn the cup one full rotation (360 degrees) in either direction.

It goes on, but that's the gist of it. You got it? Think you can do it?

I just realized that the directions on their website make it sound much simpler. I'm pretty sure they do that for a reason. The old bait and switch...vag style!

Here I am, sitting on the toilet, one leg up on the side of the bathtub, trying to shove this thing up in me.

I'm here to tell you, there is nothing "Diva" about this cup! It requires, strong, nimble, fingers; flexibility; a strong will to stick a plastic mug all up in your business and absolute confidence in your ability to yank it back out...later.

After twenty minutes of folding and shoving, folding and shoving, folding, folding and folding again, and eventual success with insertion, I put my foot back on the floor and attempted to sit upright only to find that my back had seized up during this process. It hurt so bad it took my breath away. Can we say, AWESOME! Again? Oh hell yeah!

I left it in for a couple of hours. As long as I was sitting I couldn't feel it, but walking was quite uncomfortable. The cup isn't any bigger than other "things" that regularly go up in there (I know TMI, but I have to defend Brett here!) however, husbands don't feel like bendy dixie cups and don't require FOLDING. Nor do they have to be removed by pulling on what becomes a very slippery plastic tab.

Luckily removal only took about three minutes and although the aching back made it feel like an eternity, I had done it! I had successfully used the Diva Cup. After which I quickly washed it out, placed it in it's cute little Diva pouch, and threw it in the back of the cupboard where it will sit until after I give birth and can work up the never to try again. (highly unlikely)

There goes $40.00...I'm sticking to pads and tampons.

###

So on to other things. My Stacey, knowing I struggle with organization and keeping a clean house, recommended a book to me called "Sink Reflections". I picked it up at the Library last week and am LOVING it! I'm not following it to a "T", but it is giving me direction and a feeling of empowerment to gain and maintain control of my home. One of the best lines in the book is, "you can't organize clutter". SO TRUE! I never thought about it, but it's true. That's what I've been trying to do: organize all the crap in my life instead of just purging it.

I am now working to surround myself with only the things I either: use, love or to which I have a personal connection. This means, clothes that I no longer wear are gone, even IF they still have the tags on them. The two extra knife blocks that were cluttering the kitchen because I MIGHT need them are gone and the "bar" where we stored our liquor has been replaced with a pretty lamp, a candle and a plant. Of course I didn't get rid of the alcohol, but I found a home for it-- in the cupboard where the dead blender than I "might be able to fix" once lived. The bottles always bugged me seeing them there on the sideboard in the dining room. I thought it looked trashy, but now it's gone and every time I walk in that room I just see pretty things which makes me super happy!

Additionally, last week we ate EVERY meal at home. I think that's a first for us. In fact I KNOW it is. We've tried in the past, but something has always come up, whether a legitimate reason or a lame excuse, we've never made it an ENTIRE week of just eating at home and I have to admit, it feels REALLY GOOD!!

This weekend we got so much done outside. The beautiful weather helped of course, but it was amazing to come inside after a long day's work, put dinner in the oven, take a hot shower and just relax feeling a sense of accomplishment and no guilt!

It's so easy to be self destructive yet even EASIER to NOT be?? The lazy, apathetic and self-loathing snowball grows so quickly that it's hard to make it stop but all it takes is a little sunshine to melt it all away allowing for motivation, accomplishments and JOY! Hooray for spring! Literally and figuratively.

Okay, I think I've written enough for today and even though I feel like I could go on and on and on I will end here for now.

Monday, March 1, 2010

oh, one more thing...

Brett is back to working in the office four days a week, and I'm thinking that's going to be his excuse for not getting his sperm checked. He's "cute" like that. :D

But also, while I'm at it, I should take a minute to brag on him a bit even though what I really want right now is a nap--

My husband is truly incredible. As I mentioned in my last post...all of like five minutes ago- he's lost 25lbs! And even though I really want to hate him for it, I just can't. I'm so happy for him! I want to say I'm proud of him because I have a problem with that word. I don't think I have the right to be proud of other people. Pride is something you take in the things YOU do. I will be proud of my children, but I can't be proud of my husband. He's the one making the choices. He is CHOOSING hard boiled eggs and cottage cheese over fast food and chips. He is CHOOSING to be more active; to go places and do things rather than veg on the couch.

He's pretty awesome, in every sense of the word. I am in awe of his patience, passion, compassion, willingness to try new things, ability to love me even when I'm hardly lovable. He is caring, loving, affectionate and always striving to improve.

After my first marriage I wrote a list of requirements should I ever get married again. The list consisted of 20 traits I thought would make up the person I wanted to be with.

I recently re-read that list and am happy to report that Brett is 18 of the 20. He truly is my perfect match. He is what I knew I wanted and needed years before I ever met him.

Not only do I LOVE him, but I appreciate all of who he is and am so grateful that I get to spend the rest of my life with him.

:-)

An Exhausting Weekend...

Well it turns out that Friday was just the beginning of the carnage. Today, Monday, three days later, I'm finally able to feel confident about leaving the house. Finally wearing pants and finally feeling a little less disgusting.

Today, I'm just tired. So tired I can hardly keep my eyes open...gee I wonder why? Doctors say that the average woman loses just a few teaspoons of blood during a normal period, but I'm here to say that it's possible to lose WAY more than that!

I really want to go into all the details just so everyone know EXACTLY what I'm talking about, because really, it's quite impressive. But it's also so incredibly disgusting that I should just leave it at that.

As for baby making...

Umm, well, there's not much of that going on right now either. DUH! But my mom called me this morning to tell me that she heard on the radio, March is the month of fertility. :-D We'll see about that!

For now we're focusing on our mini vacation at the end of the month; a cabin with friends in Gatlinburg. As well as hoping Brett gets a raise this month and that we can both lose some weight. (he's down 25 lbs, that bastard!) MEN!

That's all I've got right now. Don't really have the energy to write anything interesting for funny, or with any amount of enthusiasm what-so-ever.

Can we say "extreme amount of blood loss equal complete lack of energy?" Hello Vitamins with extra Iron!

I hope I can make it through the rest of the day!

Friday, February 26, 2010

Bad, Bad Morning--- Gore Alert, and I don't mean Al.

Day 15. You'd think things would be winding down a bit by now, no?

EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WRONG!

What I thought was coming to an end yesterday morning decided to rear it's ugly head last night, leaving me to wake up, in well, a puddle.

I know this is disgusting, but it's true. And it's all part of this BS that I'm going through with my body. So, YES! This is going to be one of those "bi-polar" days, and not the manic kind, more of the pissed off, frustrated, laundry doing, hydrogen-peroxiding, SEVERAL trips to the bathroom, multiple pairs of underwear, towel-sitting, no pants-wearing (cause it's futile) kind of day.

While I'm at it, I think I'll feel sorry for myself for a little too.

What can feel so hopeful one day can feel disastrous the next.

God I wish my laundry wasn't in the basement!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

MD Today- part 2

Okay, okay here it is...

So we went the doctor this morning and it went very well, as best it could I suppose. My doctor is a bit cooky to say the least, but easy to talk to and totally on board in helping us any way possible. Since he is not a fertility specialist he is limited in what he can do to help, but is willing to get us through the initial rounds of Clomid in hopes of getting pregnant.

We walked out of his office with our nifty little specimen kit (Brett is less than thrilled) and as well a prescription for Provera and Clomid; now we just wait.

It was never our intention to walk out of the appointment, run to the pharmacy, fill the prescription and come home and do it like rabbits. That hasn't changed.

For now, we plan to just hang out for a while. Let this all settle in a bit and move forward when we're ready.

I'm hoping Brett will come around sooner than later and decide the whole "filling the cup" thing isn't that bad. But I will try to be as patient as I can. Unfortunately, it's not something that can be especially spontaneous which completely removes any opportunity for "romance". It's all very clinical.

First we have to make an appointment with the lab so that they can be ready when we deliver the specimen, then the cup has to be filled (which we can do at home) but we have keep it warm by placing between our legs or under an arm and deliver it within one hour of collection. Sounds like fun, eh? Oh yeah, and no "sex" three days prior.

Who knew jacking it into a cup had to be so scientific. Yeah, I just said, "jacking it", so what?! It's funny! And it's okay to laugh about it.

From there, we'll find out what we're working with. If we've got limited, slow or abnormal sperm at least we'll know and can start looking at herbal supplements and take advantage of other remedies out there.

Once that's all determined we'll move forward.

I'm on day 14 of this "period" now, woo hoo. NOT! And if it doesn't end, and/or a new one doesn't start by the time we're ready to give this whole getting knocked up thing a whirl, I will: take a dose of Provera to jump start a period, take the clomid 3-5 days after it starts then go back to the doc on day 20 for a blood test to see what my hormone levels are and if my progesterone levels indicate ovulation. If my progesterone levels don't indicate ovulation then we start the process again only this time we increase the dose of Clomid. This will continue until A) pregnancy is achieved or B) We've reached the max dose.

If we get to B then we re-evaluate and most likely move to other plan B which is adoption. That's been plan A/B all along and will probably happen regardless...eventually.

RECAP-

Step 1: check sperm
Step 2: take Provera if a natural period doesn't occur
Step 3: take Clomid
Step 4: blood test to determine hormone levels. If test is positive -->Step 5 If it's negative we still move to step 5, because we can and then return to step 2
Step 5: have lots of sex
Step 6: take a positive pregnancy test and jump for joy or return to step 2

Here's hoping for Plan A!

MD Today- part 1

Today is the day we go to see the doctor about Clomid and I'm beginning to feel very nervous. Worried that he'll tell me he doesn't think it's a good idea for one reason or another. That some how I'll be rejected, denied the opportunity to be a mother and left with one more obstacle in my way.

I realize how ridiculous this sounds, but it's how I feel; please don't try to convince me otherwise. The fact is, I'll know his response in about two hours, if at that point my worries are confirmed, then you can feel free to try and comfort me. However, I already know that he is not the end-all, be-all, with regards to baby-making so even if he does say "no", I'm well aware that he is A) not my only option and B) not the one controlling my ovaries and uterus. So, there!

So I'm off! Off to the doctor, wearing my teenage-angst panties, feeling a bit defensive and armed with pessimism, prepared for disappointment. Yay!

Oh and trust me, even if we walk out with a prescription today, my next blog will not be anymore optimistic than this one. I'm okay with that, and you should be too, no one likes to be vulnerable.

I wonder what Brett is thinking?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Day 11, The PCOS Stamp Rant and Clomid!

Well it's day eleven of this "period" and I'm beginning to wonder if it's going to end. As I stated in a previous blog my second-to-last period lasted 18 months so I'm starting to get a little nervous.

I suppose eleven days isn't unreasonable when you haven't had a period in five months, but the fear of another 18 month stint is NOT something to be excited about.

This brings me to my rant on PCOS.

When I was diagnosed 10 years ago, PCOS was not commonly assigned. I had to ASK my doctor about it even though I'd been irregular ever since my first period at age 11. I was always just offered the pill as a symptom manager and there was never a concern. In fact, when I was finally diagnosed that was the RX too...take the pill to regulate and come back when you're ready to get pregnant and we'll use drugs to get you pregnant.

Since then, there have been some advancements I suppose. Doctors are more aware of the disorder and some even prescribe metformin (a diabetes med) to help with the metobolic end of things, which in turn is supposed to make you ovulate.

Here's my problem with all of this. Back when I was first diagnosed the doc performed in internal ultrasound and I remember seeing the "string of pearls" around my ovaries. My blood sugar was normal and so was my thyroid and every other test they ran.

Over the last ten years I've been back a couple of times, different doctor every time because I've moved so much, and every time I've been completely normal-- other than my weight.

If you read about PCOS there seems to be a correlation between the syndrome and obesity. (God I hate that word) But it seems no one knows which comes first. However, normal-weight women can get it too AND many overweight women DON'T have it. So there's really no rhyme or reason.

Another interesting thing about "PCOS" (notice I'm putting it in quotation marks now) is that different women have different symptoms. This is where my rant begins.

It seems to me that "PCOS" has become a bit like ADD/ADHD. "Oh your kid is more than you can handle, well he must have ADD, here's some Ritalin, have a nice day."

With PCOS it's like, "oh you're irregular? Hmmm...well ypu must have PCOS. Here's your 'PCOS' stamp." And that's it. Your medical chart now reads "PCOS".

Before you get upset thinking that I believe ADD is not real, you're wrong. I do believe it's real. I, myself should probably be medicated for it, BUT, it's also become a blanket diagnoses; an excuse for some parents and a money maker for drug companies.

Back to the PCOS, which is why you came here, right?

I call it the "PCOS STAMP" because during my last visit to a REPRODUCTIVE ENDOCRINOLOGIST, a "PCOS" specialist, I was given my stamp once again- as well as a RX for birth control pills and Metformin EVEN THOUGH all of my tests were normal. My hormones are normal, my blood sugar is normal, my thyroid is normal and there were NO PEARLS ON MY OVARIES!!

When I told her I had been bleeding for the past year and a half she was just like, "yeah, that's got to be tough".

My OB/GYN didn't seem bothered by it either. He wanted me to see the specialis to get her "specialized" opinion, but basically told me, "Some people are just fat. Don't worry about it so much. When you want to get pregnant I'll give you a prescription for Clomid and we'll see what happens."

All of this just leaves me wondering if there's something being missed; feeling a little more hopeless, a little more helpless and wishing I was a scientist, or at least knew one, willing to do some intense research just in case they're missing something-- like genetically altered corn or hormone injected chicken or drinking out of plastic water bottles. SOMETHING!

Done ranting.

So now what? Well, I wasn't going to say anything to anybody about this, but because A) I lack self-control, B) We can use all the good energy, thoughts and prayers out there, and C) This is the big one...I know there are other people out there that read my blog who are going through the same thing.

Here it is...Brett and I are going to the doctor on Wednesday to talk to him about clomid. Nervousness ensues.

(I realize this is the THIRD topic that I'm covering in this, "getting longer and longer with every keystroke entry", but it seems that I have a lot on my mind. And rightfully so I guess.)

Why clomid? I'm thirty-two years old, other than my weight, I'm in perfectly good health- normal BP, cholesterol, hormones, I eat well, and did I mention I'm 32? Yeah, that clock is ticking and to be quite frank, I'm tired of putting off having a baby, or at least trying-- I mean REALLY trying.

After writing a few blog-entries, talking to a couple of friends and having a real heart-to-heart with myself, I realized, that losing the weight I want to lose, at the rate I'm going now, will leave me 40 years old and childless. I know "they" say 40 is the new 30, but I want to have a family now, not eight years from now. I'm ready. My heart and my home are ready. Brett is ready. WE ARE READY!! So we're giving it a shot. A real, honest to goodness shot.

We're ready. Ready to face this challenge. Hoping it's just me. Hoping that Clomid will do the trick. Hoping Brett has some good swimmers and that my body will provide a good home for nine months of baby growing...that between the two of us, cause that how it works, we'll be able to make a beautiful healthy baby.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Ethnic cooking made easy...

After writing the following post on Facebook, I've had a few requests from friends to write a blog about my "cooking adventures".

"It's really not hard. You just have to be brave enough to try! The main spices I use are- garlic powder, onion powder, cumin, ginger, chili powder, oregano, parsley, rosemary, (italian seasoning sometimes), fresh garlic, fresh onion. I have some other extras that come out less seldom, but with these main ones the options are endless! You just ... have to know what has what flavor. For Italian meals: garlic, onion, italian seasoning. Mexican: garlic, onion, cumin, chili powder. Asian meals: Garlic, Onion, Ginger. Any of these mixed with oil or yogurt make a great marinade or salad dressing. Lemon juice or vinegar will add a kick and/or can make the marinade penetrate better."

I'll say it again! It's really not hard. You just have to be brave enough to try!

So here's what I got...

I guess I'm pretty good in the kitchen in compared to most non-professionals, but this isn't because I'm educated or grew up cooking and/or eating terribly fancy foods...I'm just passionate about food and I'm fearless about cooking.

My desire to know where my food comes from and to rot when I die are my two main motivators. While I love a box of shells and cheese every once in a while, I get much more satisfaction out of making it from scratch. Not only is it just as easy (okay, maybe a couple extra steps) but it's lower in salt, has no preservatives and tastes de-licious! Plus, because it does take a few extra steps, I think twice before deciding to make it-- it may be from scratch but that doesn't make it healthy!

So how do I do it? Well over the last few years I have mastered a few techniques and ingredients that allow me to create dishes from all over the world. Here is break down of what my staples which will get you through basic and popular elasticities-- Italian, Mexican and Chinese

HERBS/SPICES
Garlic- fresh and powdered (I used to use jarred until I recognized the difference-- no comparison!)

Onion- fresh and powdered

Italian Seasoning

Cumin

Ginger- fresh (that weird looking root thing) and powdered

Chili Powder

Dried Oregano

Dried Parsley

Cinnamon

Chicken, beef, pork (rarely since Brett doesn't like it) and sometimes Salmon

Pasta

Rice

Potatoes

Beans
(Black, Kidney and Garbanzo)

Canned Tomatoes- Paste, Sauce and Diced

Variety of Frozen Veggies- Carrots, Broccoli, Corn, Green beans, Peppers and Peas

Of course salt, pepper, flour, sugar, water and milk.

I don't buy fresh milk because we don't drink it fast enough and it just goes to waste. Instead I buy Almond milk because it's low cal, low fat, high protein, and I can keep it in the cupboard until I'm ready to use it. Brett puts it in his eggs and I use it for baking mostly. I also keep a couple cans of evaporated milk in case I REALLY need milk for something- like mac and cheese.

With these basic ingredients I can make ALL kinds of foods just by varying the combination:

Italian- Onion, Garlic, Italian Seasoning, Oregano, Parsley, Salt, Pepper- a dash of cinnamon will take away the bitter taste in canned tomato sauce.

An easy Tomato Sauce free from HFCS-


1 can tom sauce, Italian Seasoning, Garlic Powder, Onion Powder and a dash of cinnamon. Fancier? Saute some fresh garlic and onion in 1 tbsp Olive oil, add a can of dice tomatoes. Stop here for a fresh taste or add a can of sauce to thicken and add bulk. You can also add veggies if you'd like to make a well rounded meal out of it.

Pour over well salted, drained pasta and voila!

This sauce can also be used for lasagna, baked pasta and the start of chili. If you want meat just cook it first, drain the fat and then add the rest of the sauce ingredients.

Mexican
- CUMIN! Onion, garlic, oregano and chili powder

For chili, start like you're making an Italian Sauce, omit the Italian Seasoning and instead use Cumin, Chili Powder and kidney beans. I like to add about a tbsp of cocoa powder too, which again, takes away the bitterness of the tomatoes. Add corn, peppers and other veggies if you'd like. Meat or no meat!

You can also use the Main Mexican ingredients to season chicken, steak, black beans and rice or even just spice up a cheese quesadilla.

Chinese- Garlic, Onion, (do we see a pattern here?) Ginger-- there's a new one! And red pepper flakes if you've got 'em and you like it hot!

These can be used to season just about anything Chinese, especially stir-fry.

Stir-fry: sautee onions and garlic, add some fresh ginger and diced chicken. Cook until done. Add veggies and a little soy sauce, cook until just heated through. Serve with rice.

Another alternative is to marinate the chicken in soy sauce, orange juice, a little brown sugar, onion powder, garlic powder and ginger powder. Saute, and then add veggies. So easy and YUMMY!

I could go on and on, but this is a good place to start. Like I said before, I'm just fearless in the kitchen. But I truly believe that once you master the main flavor of any ethnicity the possibilities are endless.

I hope this helps all the non-cookers out there.

Some lessons I've learned:

Garlic burns really fast!

Add meat to a pre-heated pan to keep it from sticking

Salt is a necessity; it's what makes the other flavors pop, especially sweet ones. Just don't go overboard because like my Gramma says, "you can always add more, but you can't take it out".

Citrus makes chicken tender.

DON'T add flour to any sauce without mixing it with milk or water first unless you like it lumpy!

Water evaporates- keep this in mind when you're cooking with water or anything that is made of water like tomatoes.


EASY EASY MAC AND CHEESE!


Boil water then add salt.
add 1lb pasta (any kind you like)
Mix a about a cup of milk with 1 tbsp flour in a separate cup or bowl
Once pasta is cooked, drain enough water to come to the top of the pasta.
Add Colby cheese- sliced or shredded, stir until melted.
Slowly add milk flour mixture a few tablespoons at a time, stirring pot each time until thick.
Turn down the heat.

That's it!

I'm not bipolar, just hormonal!

So the last time I wrote a blog, well, the last three (er, um, only three) times, were all kind of pitiful. I knew they were at the time. I was aware that they didn't represent my "norm", but the feelings were completely genuine. I really was feeling very frustrated and a bit down about, well, everything. Feeling a bit hopeless and helpless-- it happens to all of us. BUT! I have good news! I GOT MY PERIOD!!!

Now this may not seem like something most people would broadcast on the web; in fact I feel a little strange doing it. BUT for all of my friends and family who either A- know my irregularity issues and B- for those who deal with PCOS themselves, know that this is quite a feat.

Why? Well because I haven't had a period since AUGUST! This isn't the longest I've gone without one, but five months feels like an eternity when you want to get pregnant. (I really should own stock in EPT) Every week that goes by is another week "late" in normal-person-world. And even though I know, intellectually that I'm not pregnant, it's easy to get caught in the maybe's and what if's.

None-the-less, I got my period and now recognize those PMS blues from two weeks ago as just that, PMS!

So what now? Well...I wait. Wait and hope it stops. My last period was induced by a round of BC pills, and boy was it a doozy! Prior to that three week long respite (during the 21 days of white pills) I had been bleeding for a year an a half. Yeah, you read that right. ONE and ONE HALF years! 18 months! 500 and some odd days. Tell me that's not exhausting! -- Which brings me to today...waiting, waiting for this period to be over. It's been about a week and has slowed down significantly since it started, but is still hanging on.

I guess I'll just wait a little longer and hope that it doesn't decide to stick around too long. The only way to make it stop is to go on the pill which is NOT my favorite option. It may make the bleeding stop, but it also makes me completely irrational and impossible to be around-- just ask Brett!

For now, I feel good. I'm eating carbs in moderation, making sure every meal has a fruit and/or veg and watching portion sizes. Haven't really lost any weight, but I'm feeling better...looking forward to warm weather, gardening, camping and other summer projects.

I've got a list of blog subjects that I will be writing and publishing soon. So keep an eye out!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

So I've decided to have t-shirts made...

They'll say, "Pity me, I'm infertile!" Ok, not really. That would be funny though wouldn't it? Come on, just a little? Imagine me and thousands of other women walking around in mint green shirts with bold black letters... PITY ME, I'M INFERTILE!

I suppose it might make some people feel uncomfortable, but at least it would be out there. I mean, it's already the elephant in the room, isn't it?

As a 32 year old woman, my biological clock is ticking and my maternal instincts are locked and loaded. Most of my friends already have children and they are all well aware that I want them too. Sometimes we talk about it, especially if I'm feeling really down-- they are all very supportive and are always there for me when I need them. I am EXTREMELY fortunate in the friend department.

However, this doesn't change the fact that I want to be pregnant more than anything in the world and that they already have what I want and worry I will never get.

This can sometimes leave me feeling awkward...

Now you may be thinking that the awkwardness would be on their part, but it's not. It's actually my own discomfort. I love and value all of my friends, and the ones with kids...well I get to love them double and some of them triple! (none quadruple..yet) I feel very fortunate to be a part of their children's lives-- to play with them, snuggle them and watch them grow. But it doesn't stop there...I also love watching my friends grow. From single, to married, to motherhood. (usually in that order)

My once wild and crazy girlfriends are now completely monogamous, relatively sober and 100% committed to being moms. It's really quite beautiful.

At the same time, our conversations have grown. Now we talk more about organic foods rather than how many calories are in a Red Bull and Vodka and tell each other about the great deal we got on a new set of dishes instead of the cute shirt we bought at Ross the other day. (We've always been thrifty) Most topics are still subjects to which I can contribute. BUT...there are also several that I can't. Co-sleeping, Cloth Diapers, how to make baby food, labor and delivery, nursing, and immunizations...to name a few.

This doesn't bother me, well not in the sense that I don't like or want to talk about these things. BUT, there's only so much that I can contribute and that's when I begin to feel a little awkward- although not the way you may think.

I admit, sometimes is makes me sad, and sometimes I get that pain behind my eyes as I fight to keep the tears from welling up, but that's still not what bothers me. What bothers me is completely self induced. I feel like, they worry they feel like they can't talk about baby things in front of me because it might make me sad.

This is especially at the front of my mind right now because of a conversation that took place this weekend.

Two of my girlfriends were over with their kids. We had just finish eating soup after sledding in the backyard for a couple of hours. The kids were in the living room with husbands watching cartoons and playing with cars and we were sitting around the table chatting. (kinda like in the movies) We have it pretty good!

Well, somehow the topic of sleeping came up and they began discussing their individual family's sleeping arrangements. They were talking about how they all fit in one bed, and how much easier it is to nurse, and so on. For some reason, I was feeling especially emotional that day and began to feel that recognizable ache coming from right between my eyes. I quickly stood up and began clearing dishes. I went into the kitchen took a deep breath and returned to the dining room listening to their conversation the entire time. Each time I entered the kitchen I let out an relieving exhale, pushing the tears down a little further with every breath. After a few trips I finally decided to jump in...contributing the only thing I could think to say. It went a little something like this-

"I know it's not the same, because well, he's a dog. But last night, Joe actually laid on the bed next to me and fell asleep. It was so sweet."

Trying to feel more like a mom I continued...

"He will lay with me sometimes, but as soon as I wiggle even a toe, he jumps down."

Pointing out the sacrifices I make as a mom too...

"So I just laid there in a really uncomfortable position for almost an hour just so he could sleep."

Now I DO love my dog. And he is like my child. But he's still a dog. I don't care how much you may love your dog, or how much I love my dog (which is A LOT!) it's not the same as loving a child. I will not even try to convince myself that it's the same. I am fully aware that it's not. I do know, however, that I can't even imagine what it must feel like to love a child considering how much I love that Joe-dog.

Sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode with the love I have for him. If he were a person...I may not survive!

Moving on.

So yeah, I love my dog. And I laid there for an hour in a really uncomfortable position so that he could sleep.

Well as soon as I blurted out this story to them I felt like a jerk. I know they just thought, "aw, that's sweet" because they both said something to that affect. I also know that they meant it. But I immediately felt responsible for making things awkward by drawing attention the fact that they have children and I have a dog. The thing is, they had no idea. They thought I was just clearing the table, that I could only carry three things at a time, that I was just telling a funny story. They didn't realize that I was trying to prove (unnecessarily) that I'm okay with them talking about things that I want but can't have.

I didn't give them credit for knowing me better than that. I assumed that they would think I wasn't okay with it.

UGH!

The truth is that I LOVE it when they talk about all that stuff. Not once have I ever thought any my friends were being insensitive, I've only thought they might worry that I thought they were.

I have learned so much from them that I may or may not have figured out on my own.

Okay, enough of this infertility crap, it's certainly does not define who I am and was not the sole purpose for starting a blog. I'm not sure why I started it but so far I'm enjoying it and plan to keep it up. I think my life is interesting, or at least close representation of the word.

Yesterday-
Breakfast- Peppers and Onion Omelet with cheese- coffee with cream and sugar
Lunch- Leftover Cheeseburger
Dinner- Sauteed potatoes, onions, sausage and chard with a side of mushroom and leeks and a salad with cranberries and almonds.
Dessert- 2 scratch-made soft chocolate cookies topped with berries and my first time everfresh whipped cream. (man did my wrist hurt!)

Carb Conundrum Continued...(this gets personal)

So I made cheeseburgers for dinner last night with homemade buns and big salad on the side. That sounds relatively healthy right? Especially considering what I had eaten earlier in the day. The patty was a quarter pound and the bun was small. The salad consisted of lettuce, spinach, carrots, onion and homemade yogurt blue cheese dressing.

I feel good about what I ate yesterday.

Brett wanted to go get ice cream around 8:30 and I told him no, which was hard. I wasn't hungry and I wasn't craving anything sweet, so passing up on the actual eating of the ice cream wasn't difficult. But just SAYING no, was difficult for a couple of reasons. One of them I just recognized as I was typing this paragraph.

So first- it was hard because I'm not his mother. He is a grown man and he doesn't need my permission to eat ice cream. Telling him no made me feel controlling and bitchy. I mean, I knew it was the best decision for both of us, but I'm certainly not his boss. At the same time, it makes me mad that he asked in the first place.

During dinner I expressed to him how I was feeling all day. I told him that we seriously need to CONSISTENTLY make better choices. We do good for a few days but then as soon as we find an excuse to make a bad choice we totally take advantage of it.

We really like the words of Michael Pollan. "Eat Food. Not very much. Mostly Vegetables" He says it's okay to eat junk food as long as you make it yourself. I agree with this...and long as you remember to eat "not very much".

So last night, as I'm mixing up the hamburger bun dough, Brett says, "We having french fries?" and I about lost it. "NO! We're having hamburger buns!"

"What else?"

"Salad"

"That's all?"

"YES!!!"

Little did he know, I had made up a new food rule just minutes prior to this conversation. ONE CARB PER MEAL Makes sense right? So why was he questioning me?!?!?! He should know!

At this point I was fuming, thinking to myself, "Potatoes AND buns! What the hell? I've told him a hundred times! Potatoes are NOT a vegetable!!! Dammit!"

Sitting at the table in silence, we began eating our cheeseburgers and salads when finally I realized...he had no idea that I'd made a new food rule.

"I'm sorry. I'm in a shitty mood...I just--" tears begin forming, "I'm just so frustrated. I want so badly to have a baby. And every time I eat a carb I feel like I'm feel like I'm choosing food over being a mother". I continued "And the other night, when you told David that we're off the wagon because now we're going to adopt, it really upset me. Adoption has always been an option, but it certainly isn't as excuse to abuse our bodies. I would love to have a four year old right now, but I don't want to be a fat mom to any child".

"So I've decided that we should limit our carbs to 1 per meal."

Done.

Back to the ice cream dilemma. Now that he knows the rule. He knows I'm upset that we've "fallen off the wagon", he knows I want a baby, he knows I hate being fat, he knows, he knows, he knows...and yet he still asks, "you wanna go get some ice cream?" AHHHHHHHH!!!

Like I said, avoiding the temptation wasn't hard since I was satisfied from dinner and not craving anything sweet. But the more I sat there and thought about it, the better the idea sounded. Not because I wanted ice cream, but because I wanted to share that experience with him. Which brings me to the epiphany I had while writing the second paragraph of this blog.

That's what we share...food and bad choices. It's how we spend time together. It's what we do. We love being gluttonous together-- whether is food, laziness or spending money we don't really have. We've talked before about how we enable each other. We are aware that we make bad decisions together. But it wasn't until 15 minutes ago that I realized, it's what actually bonds us. It's like our hobby. And me saying "no ice cream" felt like I was saying, "I don't love you. I don't want to spend time with you."

What the frigg!?

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

it's the carb conundrum.

I was diagnosed with PCOS (Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome) back in 2001. Since then, my body has become the most frustrating part of my life- physically, mentally and emotionally.

Research has shown a direct relationship between PCOS and blood sugar. It's sometimes referred to as pre-diabetes or insulin resistance. My particular symptoms include: wacked periods, weight problems and some stray chin hairs (easily yanked with a pair of tweezers), otherwise everything about me is within "normal" range, specifically my blood sugar.

So why is it such a big deal?

The one thing, okay two things I want most in this world are ONE: to be a mom and TWO: to be healthy and live the life I feel I was meant to live. The ACTIVE lifestyle I WANT to live. But instead, I'm uncomfortable in my own skin, have a butt that's too big for a kayak, calves too big for snow skis and a lack of stamina too great to move much faster than nine-month pregnant woman. Which brings me back to number one-- to be a mom, which is near impossible because of my uncooperative ovaries.

RX: low carb diet and sometimes glucophage/metformin which is a diabetes medication.

The word diet in general goes against what I believe and gets my blood a little hot. I try very hard to know where my food comes from, make things from scratch, starting with whole foods and avoiding anything that says sugar-free or fat-free, aka chemical rich!

So now what?

Every time I bake a loaf of bread, or roll out biscuits I feel like I'm choosing grains over my unborn child(ren). What is supposed to be HEALTHY is my supposed poison. This of course starts a whole new guilt trip and feeling of hopelessness.

I wish I was a better writer so I could communicate my real feelings. These words don't do the sick-to-my-stomach feeling I get when I think about these choices.

The biggest: GUILT.

Maybe I'll just start walking more.

Breakfast: two egg omelet with peppers and onions and cheese.
Lunch: Celery with peanut butter
Dinner: ???