<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984</id><updated>2012-02-13T12:35:36.931-05:00</updated><category term='miscarriage'/><category term='loss'/><category term='irregular cycles'/><category term='TTC'/><category term='pregnancy'/><title type='text'>Accepting the Unexpected</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-3596134613161118153</id><published>2011-02-11T10:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T10:34:15.718-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What I hate about this</title><content type='html'>Whenever I was doing a medicated cycle with trigger shot and timed intercourse, I would go into the fertility clinic, have the doctor wand me, find out my eggs were ready, and then go into the nurse's office.  She would give me my trigger shot, my instruction sheet, and my progesterone draw order, then say, "Now go home and get pregnant, we can't do any more for you this cycle.  You guys have to do the rest on your own."  I know she didn't mean to be rude.  I know she must do the same thing all day every day and she just needs some casual comment to say to everyone because the whole thing is awkward.  But still.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I GET IT.  We suck at reproducing.  We can't just have sex in the privacy of our own bed and magically end up with a baby like the majority of people on earth.  I have to have a doctor stick tools in my private parts.  I have to get injected with medications.  I have to increase hormones that already drive &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;normal&lt;/span&gt; people crazy.  We have to have an &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;instruction sheet &lt;/span&gt;to tell us what to do, even though we have been doing this for 2 years and we already know what to do.  Believe me, every day, every single day, I get it.  We suck at making babies.  We obviously can't do the rest on our own.  Maybe we can't do it at all.  I get it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now we have moved up a level.  After I get the trigger shot, we don't have to do the rest on our own.  In fact, when we &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want &lt;/span&gt;to have sex, we aren't even allowed to do it.  Instead we get to wake up at 5:30 on a Saturday morning and drive an hour to the fertility clinic.  I get to wait in the car (because there is no waiting room) while my husband goes into a room and masturbates into a cup.  We get to go sit at McDonald's staring at each other for an hour and a half while some lab techs try to improve his sperm.  Then I get to lay on a table, have a tube inserted into my uterus, and have the few remaining sperm squirted into my uterus.  Then I get to lie on the table for 10 minutes, cramping, thinking that this is never going to work because there weren't enough sperm, thinking that we'll be back here next month doing the exact same thing, thinking that I know I'll never be able to stop putting us through this crap even if we never get a baby out of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, there it is.  That's what I hate.  I hate that it is painfully obvious that we can't do this.  I hate that we have to invest so much time, so much emotional energy, and so much money and we don't even know if this will work.  I just hate it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-3596134613161118153?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/3596134613161118153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=3596134613161118153&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3596134613161118153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3596134613161118153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-i-hate-about-this.html' title='What I hate about this'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-1617691028889281485</id><published>2011-01-30T15:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T15:13:51.192-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here We Go...</title><content type='html'>I went in on Thursday for my follie monitoring ultrasound.  My lining looked good at 9 mm, and I had one 24 mm follie on my right ovary.  I triggered that night, and we went in yesterday for our first IUI.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We ended up with 5 million swimmers for the IUI.  My RE said it looked good, but from what I've read, 5 million really isn't too good of a number.  I'm sure you'll hear more about this from me, since I've started obsessively reading about sperm counts and thinking about what it means ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The IUI itself was a little more painful than I expected, and I had some cramping afterward.  I had an acupuncture session right after to help me relax, and by the time I left, the cramps were gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Something about the whole morning just left me feeling really down, and I feel like I can almost put my finger on it, but not quite.  I think I might devote a whole post to it in a few days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For now, I'm adding in progesterone and baby aspirin, and hoping that I get a BFP in a couple weeks so I don't have to think about IUIs and sperm counts anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-1617691028889281485?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/1617691028889281485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=1617691028889281485&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/1617691028889281485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/1617691028889281485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2011/01/here-we-go.html' title='Here We Go...'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-5682216246785595137</id><published>2011-01-30T12:43:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T13:13:43.397-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Fun!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Thank you so much to &lt;a href="http://invisiblemother.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hope&lt;/a&gt; at Invisible Mother for giving me The Stylish Blogger Award!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AK9moyY4Zts/TTyi515wq0I/AAAAAAAAAJE/-Zfc3xlaK14/s1600/Stylish-Blogger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AK9moyY4Zts/TTyi515wq0I/AAAAAAAAAJE/-Zfc3xlaK14/s1600/Stylish-Blogger.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rules for accepting this award are:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  Thank and link back to the person who awarded you the award.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  Share 7 things about yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  Award 15 other bloggers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  Contact the bloggers and tell them about the award.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7 Things About Me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  I love being outdoors... camping, hiking, canoeing, I love it all :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  I am an obsessive TV watcher on Netflix.  If left to my own devices, I will sit down and watch all the episodes of a series (Season 1 to the end) without watching a single other thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  I have two dogs that I love to pieces.  One is a 6 year old border collie mix.  The other is a 2 year old mutt of some sort.  They look like sisters, and they love cuddling!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  I am working on a Master's degree in Me.dical Mic.robiol.ogy and Immu.nolo.gy right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.  When I was little, I fell through the ceiling into the living room.  It made me famous for a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.  I have lived in 3 different states.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.  Most days, you can find me wearing a fleece or a sweatshirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am giving this award to (I can only make it to 10):&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  &lt;a href="http://jen-whileiwait.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jen&lt;/a&gt; at Discovering Joy in the Storm&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  &lt;a href="http://stolenfertility.blogspot.com/"&gt;Keya&lt;/a&gt; at Stolen fertility... and my quest to find it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  &lt;a href="http://aboutplanb.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jay&lt;/a&gt; at Stork Stalking&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  &lt;a href="http://msshamisdavis.blogspot.com/"&gt;msshamisdavis&lt;/a&gt; at The crazy ramblings of a confused soul&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.  &lt;a href="http://threelittlekilos.blogspot.com/"&gt;b&lt;/a&gt; at The Journey to Our Three Little Kilos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.  &lt;a href="http://myjourneytomotherhoodthegoodbadugly.blogspot.com/"&gt;Shortcake4813&lt;/a&gt; at My Journey to Motherhood&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.  &lt;a href="http://hopebpatient.blogspot.com/"&gt;HopeBPatient&lt;/a&gt; at Eggs Out of Time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8.  &lt;a href="http://stephaniebose.blogspot.com/"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/a&gt; at All Things Conceivable&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9.  &lt;a href="www.babychaseproject.blogspot.com"&gt;LifeLine&lt;/a&gt; at The Baby Chase Project&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10.  &lt;a href="http://wyattsways.blogspot.com/"&gt;Paula&lt;/a&gt; at Wyatt's Ways&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-5682216246785595137?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/5682216246785595137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=5682216246785595137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5682216246785595137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5682216246785595137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2011/01/how-fun.html' title='How Fun!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AK9moyY4Zts/TTyi515wq0I/AAAAAAAAAJE/-Zfc3xlaK14/s72-c/Stylish-Blogger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-2887041377120996377</id><published>2011-01-16T17:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T17:31:37.494-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Cycle...</title><content type='html'>AF arrived yesterday for me, but I am surprisingly not too down about it.  I'm feeling more numb than anything.  And anxious.  I feel like there are so many decisions to be made right now about treatments that it is kind of overwhelming.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think as of now we are on track for a Femara cycle with IUI... our first IUI.  I'm feeling kind of ambivalent about it.  We will do that for 2 or 3 cycles, take a month or two off if I feel like I need it, and then dive into injectables with IUI.  Come on, something, WORK!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also decided to start acupuncture.  I'd been thinking about it for a while, and took the plunge last week.  The session was kind of relaxing, but afterwards I felt tired and out of it for a while.  Nothing too bad, though.  My period arrived with less cramps than usual and with more of a normal red flow (which I think is better than my usual super light, spotty flow).  I was telling my husband that in the 2 years I've been off the pill, I have never gotten through CD1 with this few ibuprofen.  Maybe the acupuncture is already doing its job!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-2887041377120996377?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/2887041377120996377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=2887041377120996377&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/2887041377120996377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/2887041377120996377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-cycle.html' title='Another Cycle...'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-7164083513877845424</id><published>2011-01-01T13:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T13:28:31.815-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2011 is finally here!</title><content type='html'>I'm so happy to be able to say goodbye to 2010.  It was an awful year for us, and now we can look forward to a better year in 2011!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Starting with (I hope) being able to get pregnant.  I ovulated yesterday, which I think is pretty fun timing.  Maybe we can conceive our little one during the transition from the worst year to the best year!  I went for my u/s on Wednesday, and I had one 24 mm follie on my left ovary and 2 15 mm follies on my right ovary.  They gave me my trigger shot there.  My lining was 10 mm so that looked good, too.  I had some pretty strong ovary pain and pressure, and my temperature really shot up this morning, so I hope that means it was a nice strong ovulation with at least one of those follies releasing a lucky egg.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been doing a whole TTC regimen this cycle.... Geritol, extra folic acid, warm lemon water once a day, spearmint tea twice a day, lots of PreSeed around ovulation time, and now I will add in a baby aspirin daily during the TWW (and of course 5 mg Femara CD3-7 and an HCG trigger on CD14).  Phew!  That's a lot of work.  But I am phasing out temping... only doing about 5 days before ovulation and 5 days after.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was REALLY down for a couple weeks there... I don't know if it was the BFN combined with the holidays or because I had so much hope last cycle, but I was in a funk for sure.  And right on ovulation day it was like a switch got flipped and now I am SO hopeful for this cycle.  Come on bean, get yourself snuggled in!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-7164083513877845424?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/7164083513877845424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=7164083513877845424&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7164083513877845424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7164083513877845424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011-is-finally-here.html' title='2011 is finally here!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-7636723705301474338</id><published>2010-12-20T14:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T14:19:09.427-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas?</title><content type='html'>I am so down lately, it is ridiculous.  I am just sitting on the couch half of the time staring at the wall or looking at the same website that hasn't changed for hours.  I guess I really thought that I might be growing a baby right now, and instead I'm thinking about how I should have a 9 month old baby and instead I have nothing.  Can it possibly have been 15 months since my loss already??? It just doesn't seem real.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't really care about Christmas this year.  I didn't get my husband any gifts, mostly because I just don't feel like going to the store.  It seems like every time I go, I get in line right in front of a newborn or have to wait outside my car for a mother to get her baby out of the carseat, or any one of a million other variations of being slapped in the face with what I don't have.  And we have to go out of town to visit my husband's family, where my SIL is 33 weeks pregnant.  Guess what the main topic of conversation for 3 days will be?  I guess it would be rude to say, "I'm so happy that you guys decided you wanted a baby over a year after us, and you will get to hold yours in your arms before we're even pregnant.  If we ever will be."  Bah humbug!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-7636723705301474338?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/7636723705301474338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=7636723705301474338&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7636723705301474338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7636723705301474338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas?'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-1750268392282594114</id><published>2010-12-16T19:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T19:50:22.667-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hyperventilating</title><content type='html'>I have spent the last 2 days building a nice safe bubble around myself, deciding that I will slowly tiptoe through fertility treatments, dragging my feet as much as possible, to avoid the potential sting of total and complete failure.  In my imaginary fantasy, I do not start injectibles until next fall, so as to keep 2011 IVF free.  That way, in 2 weeks, I am not in danger of entering 'The Year I Find Out I Most Likely Will Never Have Biological Children.'  Melodramatic, I know, but this is how I protect myself.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then I talked to the RE's office today to schedule my consult to decide 'What's Next' after this final Clomid cycle.  And the nurse said she will send me some info on INJECTIBLES because that's what comes after Clomid!!!!!  So I stammer something about Femara, grasping at straws, and she decides that I should do Femara THIS cycle instead of Clomid and says that I can try 1 or 2 Femara cycles before injectibles.  No no no no no.  Pure and utter terror.  I'm hoping if I make it through today, I will feel calmer about it.  Crap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-1750268392282594114?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/1750268392282594114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=1750268392282594114&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/1750268392282594114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/1750268392282594114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/12/hyperventilating.html' title='Hyperventilating'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-8406489407760128038</id><published>2010-12-14T13:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T14:01:40.712-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Chance</title><content type='html'>So this cycle is another huge fail.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And even moreso because my body was a true B****, tricking me into thinking I was pregnant.  I am normally not a symptom watcher in the TWW.  Really, I'm not.  I figured out pretty early on in my cycle tracking that most of my symptoms mean absolutely nothing.  Sore boobs, nothing.  Moody, nothing.  Peeing a lot, nothing.  Cramping, nothing.  Spotting, nothing.  But in the almost 2 years that I've been tracking my cycle, the only time I had sharp ovary pains when standing up was my pregnancy cycle.  Until now.  Just an extra pinch of cruelty for Christmas.  Hooray.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we start our final cycle of Clo.mid with HCG trigger and timed intercourse.  If that fails (as history would predict), we will have a consult with the RE to figure out what the next step is.  Clo.mid with IUI? Femara with timed intercourse? Femara with IUI?  Who knows what our wonderful prize will be.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I so don't want to be starting a new year with this crap.  And I have come to the conclusion that I am terrified of getting aggressive with the fertility treatments.  Because of the expense? No.  Because of the shots? No.  Because of the invasion of privacy? No.  Because IT MIGHT NOT WORK.  And if we use up our infertility coverage and don't end up with a baby, well that might be our final answer.  But if I stretch 6 cycles of treatment out over 2 years.... then I can avoid reality and pretend that it might still happen.  Ahhh, denial.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-8406489407760128038?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/8406489407760128038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=8406489407760128038&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8406489407760128038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8406489407760128038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/12/last-chance.html' title='Last Chance'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-6149316939530369234</id><published>2010-11-30T13:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T13:40:14.659-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>I am being a really bad blogger.  I'm just feeling pretty numb about this cycle.  I'm sure that subconsciously I am trying to distance myself from TTC so I don't feel the crash as hard if I get another BFN.  Funny how there's really no way to protect yourself from the horrible emotional flood that you get when you realize that this cycle is a BFN, though.  But I'm letting myself cope however I have to.  This routine is just getting too old to invest so much energy into it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember along my TTC journey I would happen upon an infertility blog where they were doing fertility treatments and had stopped charting their temperatures or using OPKs or peeing on HPTs like there was no tomorrow.  And I always thought "How can they do that?  I can't imagine letting go of those things, no matter how long I'm TTC."  But here I am, deciding that I don't care about OPKs anymore, and thinking about charting only right around ovulation time, and cutting out my internet cheapie HPT's.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After so many negative cycles it just seems pointless.  Who cares?  It doesn't matter if we time our BD'ing right... how many cycles have we timed things perfectly and ended up with a BFN?  It doesn't do anyone any good for me to pee on all those HPT's and drive myself crazy over shadow lines when deep down I just know that it's a BFN.  So, I'm feeling BLAH, and I don't know how else to describe it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm CD17, I ovulated sometime yesterday or today, and I just don't care.  Nothing will come of it anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-6149316939530369234?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/6149316939530369234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=6149316939530369234&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6149316939530369234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6149316939530369234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/11/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-3551953034195422902</id><published>2010-11-23T13:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T13:22:58.894-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mid Cycle Already</title><content type='html'>Well, I had a bit of a breakdown around the time of AF's arrival.  And none of the depressing thoughts that I had during that breakdown are gone, but the crazy sadness and hopelessness is much better now.  So I'm onto Clo.mid cycle #3.  I'm CD10 already, and have an ultrasound to check my follies on Friday.  I can't wait, and I am so hoping everything looks good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-3551953034195422902?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/3551953034195422902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=3551953034195422902&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3551953034195422902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3551953034195422902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/11/mid-cycle-already.html' title='Mid Cycle Already'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-4923981436243417372</id><published>2010-11-08T15:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T15:26:42.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In a serious funk...</title><content type='html'>The last couple months I have just been slowly sinking into a sad, sorry state, and I'm not sure what to do about it.  It seems like more often than not, I am hating my life, hating the things I have to do each day, hating how busy I am, hating that what I want out of my life, I don't seem to ever get, hating that I feel like there are a million things to be done and no one else is carrying their fair share of the load, hating that none of the million things to be done is something that makes me smile, hating that I feel like a victim, hating that I can't think of a way to change things right now, hating that I'm so bitter and unhappy, and on and on and on.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A typical week for me, in a nutshell:  Babysit on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays.  On those days, I'm out of the house from 6:30 am to 6:30 pm if I drive straight to work and back.  On these days I am also supposed to be doing all kinds of errand-y things like, making a grocery list, going grocery shopping, paying the bills, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, etc, etc.  Thursdays I drive 5 hours to pick up my sister, then I do rehabilitation and care for her Thursday through Sunday, when I drive 5 hours to take her back home.  On those days, I am  busy with exercises/daily care/cooking/etc from at least 9 am until 10 pm.  So if you add up all those hours, I am working approximately 88 hours a week.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And on top of that, in my *free* time, I am supposed to be finishing up writing my paper and thesis for graduate school and helping a friend edit her thesis.  Guess what?  None of that writing/editing is getting done because I am *exhausted*, and that adds some guilt and bad feelings on top of the pile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bottom line, I just feel like everything sucks.  And that's before I even think about the whole, 'my baby died and now I am infertile and worried I will never get pregnant again' thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I'm in a bad spot, and what I really need to do is be grateful for the good things I have in my life: my husband, my furbabies, my sister, a job that's giving us enough money to pay for the fertility treatments that we need.  But at the moment, every thing that I should be grateful for just feels like another responsibility.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wow, this was long, guess I needed to vent, huh? ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-4923981436243417372?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/4923981436243417372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=4923981436243417372&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4923981436243417372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4923981436243417372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/11/in-serious-funk.html' title='In a serious funk...'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-5413808653426385968</id><published>2010-11-03T14:35:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T14:38:45.813-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Did Someone Freeze Time?</title><content type='html'>Ugh, this TWW is dragging by sooooo slowly.  I can't even believe that I am only 5 dpo.  How is that even possible????? It feels like decades since I ovulated.  On Monday, I was thinking, 'Oh wow, sometime next week I will know how this cycle turns out.'  Now I am thinking, 'I will be 79 years old by the time next week rolls around.'  The TWW hasn't been this bad for me in a long time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the exciting front, I get to test out my HCG trigger shot.  That means I get to take a HPT every day, with no guilt or crazy feelings.  And can you believe that I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;forgot &lt;/span&gt;to take it this morning????  I must have been possessed or sleepwalking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-5413808653426385968?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/5413808653426385968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=5413808653426385968&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5413808653426385968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5413808653426385968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/11/did-someone-freeze-time.html' title='Did Someone Freeze Time?'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-4219625324011903763</id><published>2010-10-27T20:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T20:39:01.522-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We Have Follies!</title><content type='html'>So I went in today for my CD14 ultrasound to monitor the growth of my follicles.  I have a 23 mm follie on my right ovary, and a 14 mm follie on my left ovary (but my RE doesn't think that little guy will really be in the running ;) ).  My lining looked good, 3 layers and 9.8 mm thick.  They gave me my Nov.arel trigger shot this afternoon and told us to get the job done (wink, wink) tomorrow night and/or Friday morning.  So we are totally on for this cycle!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, this meant that I had to spend the entire evening searching Google and FertilityFriend for info on the appropriate size of mature follies, the appropriate endometrial thickness, and the right way to time intercourse after a trigger shot.  To be honest, I feel less obsessive this cycle, if that gives you any indication of the level of complete and utter insanity at which I am normally functioning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Come on sperm!  Come on egg!  Get it right this time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-4219625324011903763?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/4219625324011903763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=4219625324011903763&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4219625324011903763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4219625324011903763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-have-follies.html' title='We Have Follies!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-7233401738501336357</id><published>2010-10-26T15:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T15:53:44.221-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Results Are In!</title><content type='html'>My thyroid is back to normal!!!!  My TSH level came back at 1.22, which is right where my doctor wants it.  So the Synthroid is working!  One hurdle down, now tomorrow's look at my follies is staring me in the face.  Hoping that we see something positive!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-7233401738501336357?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/7233401738501336357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=7233401738501336357&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7233401738501336357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7233401738501336357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/10/results-are-in.html' title='The Results Are In!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-9085265063247361679</id><published>2010-10-20T20:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T20:09:27.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ugh, I am being a bad blogger in October!  Maybe because in September I had tons of doctor's appointments and tests to talk about.  Well, next week will be a little busier because I have my 6 week check of my thyroid levels since starting my meds.  And I also have my ultrasound to monitor my follicle growth.  And it's Halloween!  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So stay tuned, I have an exciting week ahead :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-9085265063247361679?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/9085265063247361679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=9085265063247361679&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/9085265063247361679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/9085265063247361679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/10/ugh-i-am-being-bad-blogger-in-october.html' title=''/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-3442045241247110601</id><published>2010-10-15T09:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T09:50:39.727-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Still on the Merry Go Round</title><content type='html'>So today is CD2.  My dreaded period showed up yesterday.  On to Clo.mid Cycle 2, I guess.  I will be taking the same dose as I did last month because my 7 dpo progesterone levels looked good (30).  I have an ultrasound to check follicle growth scheduled for CD14.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am definitely hoping that this is the month.  I never really expected the pressure that comes with starting fertility treatments.  I always thought it would just be great to have a plan in place.  That it would be so relaxing to know that if this strategy doesn't work, in a few months we will move on to something else, and then to something else, and eventually to IUI and IVF.  But now that I'm actually taking the first steps down this path, it just feels like when something doesn't work, I'm freaking out because I'm one step closer to Clo.mid not working at all, and one step closer to IUI, and one step closer to IVF.  It's totally crazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But all I've been thinking lately is, "Only 2 Clo.mid cycles left. Only 2 Clo.mid cycles left.  If Clo.mid doesn't work we won't be pregnant in 2010.  Only 2 Clo.mid cycles left!!!!"  And then my brain explodes and smokes puffs out of my ears.  I really was not expecting all this added pressure, but I guess that's kind of silly of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-3442045241247110601?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/3442045241247110601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=3442045241247110601&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3442045241247110601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3442045241247110601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/10/still-on-merry-go-round.html' title='Still on the Merry Go Round'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-2173182547902077352</id><published>2010-10-08T16:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T16:25:14.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why haven't they invented this?</title><content type='html'>Nothing to interesting to report on the TTC front... I'm 10 days post ovulation, so I've started my crazy pee on a stick fest already.  Nothing but BFNs so far, but I'm still early so it isn't getting me down yet.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night I did have a pretty awesome dream, though.  In my dream I peed on a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;holographic &lt;/span&gt;home pregnancy test.  And when you got a BFP, there was a huge smiley face that showed up, followed by a bunch of smiley sperm swimming to an egg, and then a lot of smiley faces clapping their hands.  Wouldn't it be awesome if there really was such a thing???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At least my dreams don't give away my obsession with getting pregnant, right? ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-2173182547902077352?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/2173182547902077352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=2173182547902077352&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/2173182547902077352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/2173182547902077352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/10/why-havent-they-invented-this.html' title='Why haven&apos;t they invented this?'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-8762462237586571050</id><published>2010-10-01T14:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T14:24:40.675-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We're On!</title><content type='html'>So I actually did ovulate!!!!!!  I am 3 dpo today, only 5 more days until I start my crazy peeing on pregnancy tests :)  Whatever gets me through the evil TWW, I guess ;)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today on Facebook, I saw that an acquaintance who recently had a baby had posted:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If God has blessed you with a baby and you are forever thankful, like this!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I usually don't get too upset about pregnancy/baby-related Facebook posts, but this one was just like a kick in the guts.  It's actually awesome that she is so thankful to be able to be a mom, and it's such a great sentiment, but it's really like a slap in the face to think that I should have been able to click like to that, but instead my baby was taken away.  I have not been blessed with a baby, and I don't know if I ever will be.  And that really hurts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only thing that would be true about where I am right now, would be:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If God has ripped your baby from your uterus and you are forever bitter, like this!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So much hurt, so much sadness, and so much bitterness.  This whole loss and infertility thing really sucks.  I would give anything to have my baby.  I guess I can only try to hope that someday I will be the new mom posting happy things like that on Facebook.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-8762462237586571050?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/8762462237586571050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=8762462237586571050&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8762462237586571050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8762462237586571050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/10/were-on.html' title='We&apos;re On!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-3132955860857994637</id><published>2010-09-27T09:50:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T09:54:47.589-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't believe my eyes!</title><content type='html'>I got a positive OPK! On CD15!  Am I in an alternate universe where my body acts normal?  Am I dreaming?  Did I give myself my HCG trigger in my sleep and now I'm getting false positives?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was convinced that I wasn't going to respond to this dose of Clo.mid, and here I am, ovulating 10 days early!  I guess I was wrong!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know if we're going to really have a chance at a BFP this cycle because we didn't time things too well.  But if I can ovulate before CD20 again next cycle, I'll be ok!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't believe how much less stress there is in a cycle where I'm not waiting and BDing for 25 days!!!!!!!!!!! Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-3132955860857994637?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/3132955860857994637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=3132955860857994637&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3132955860857994637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3132955860857994637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-dont-believe-my-eyes.html' title='I don&apos;t believe my eyes!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-3561606626603083578</id><published>2010-09-24T16:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T16:31:15.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So Pretty...</title><content type='html'>Yes, the title of this post is referring to my uterus.  And yes, I am in love with it because it is so. darn. cute.  I can totally imagine our little fertilized eggs floating out of my tube and thinking that my uterus ROCKS as a place to nestle in and grow!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the HSG went well.... if you couldn't guess by my new crush on my own reproductive system.  I have to admit it was love at first sight.  *Sigh*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything looked clear, everything looked normal, and my RE was impressed by the small amount of dye it took to get spilling from both tubes.  It did hurt like a b**** for about 30 seconds there, but other than that, I am pain free.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now come on ovaries, get with the program and get ready to spit out some beautiful eggs!! I get to check in on your follie growing abilities on Monday, and you really don't want to end up as the ugly duckling of my reproductive organs, do you?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-3561606626603083578?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/3561606626603083578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=3561606626603083578&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3561606626603083578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3561606626603083578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/so-pretty.html' title='So Pretty...'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-6910334860437380668</id><published>2010-09-22T10:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T10:49:59.828-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Scaredy Cat</title><content type='html'>My HSG is scheduled for this Friday afternoon.  I have to admit that I am not scared one bit about the procedure itself or the possibility of pain (which of course means that I will end up screaming for hours at the terrible pain).  But I am terrified of the results.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For some reason, I have convinced myself that something major is wrong with my tubes and/or uterus.  It's probably just me thinking that every other time I had testing done, I found out something was wrong, so why would this time be any different.  And part of it is probably my whacked out IF logic, which has me thinking that I can probably still have a baby with a clotting disorder and hypothyroidism, but throw a mis-shapen uterus or a blocked tube into the mix, and that's just one reproductive deformity too many.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whatever the reason, I just keep imagining my RE telling me, "Well, it doesn't look good.  Your uterus is shaped like the letters B, F, and N, and that's just not a good environment for growing a baby."  Or, "I'm sorry to tell you that you're ovaries look great, but you actually don't even have fallopian tubes.  Better go adopt."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ahhhh.  Deep breaths.  Those scenarios are both highly unlikely.  Right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-6910334860437380668?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/6910334860437380668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=6910334860437380668&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6910334860437380668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6910334860437380668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/scaredy-cat.html' title='Scaredy Cat'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-7442289867698667629</id><published>2010-09-21T10:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T10:42:05.069-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My First ICLW!</title><content type='html'>If you're new to my little corner of the blogosphere, here is our story in a nutshell.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mr. Unexpected and I have been TTC since April 2009.  We got pregnant in July 2009, but unfortunately found out at 12 weeks that the baby had stopped growing at around 8 weeks.  It's been a year since we lost our baby, and we haven't had another positive pregnancy test.  We've just started seeing a RE, and we found out I am hypothyroid, so now I am on meds for that.  I also have a clotting disorder, and will need to start Lovenox injections with my next BFP.  We have some more testing to do this week, and this cycle we are also trying Clo.mid with ultrasound monitoring and an HCG trigger shot.  At this point, I can barely even imagine what it would be like to get pregnant again.  Isn't it amazing how a journey like this can suck all the hope out of you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In more recent news, I (sort of) got the results for Mr. Unexpected's semen analysis yesterday.  I know his total count was 40 million (with normal being &gt;40 million), his motility was 65% (with normal being &gt;50%), and his forward progression score was 2++ (with normal being, from what I can tell &gt;2).  The nurse said it all looked good, but it seems to mostly look borderline... I don't know.  I requested a paper copy, and I will talk with the doctor about it at my ultrasound appointment on Monday.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think part of my problem is that with so many things wrong with me (hypothyroid, clotting disorder, late ovulation, luteal phase spotting), I would just be so much more comfortable if everything on Mr. Unexpected's end was just absolutely, clearly, obviously amazing.  A crappy reproductive system meeting a mediocre reproductive system just doesn't seem like a sure thing for getting the job done.  Besides, what else would I do if I didn't manufacture things to worry about out of thin air?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-7442289867698667629?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/7442289867698667629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=7442289867698667629&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7442289867698667629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7442289867698667629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-first-iclw.html' title='My First ICLW!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-6263820651001222401</id><published>2010-09-20T16:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T16:42:39.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Settling Down</title><content type='html'>I really feel like things are finally settling down for me, and it's such a great feeling.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mr. Unexpected and I were surprised to be on our own for the weekend (due to an unfortunate development that led to a sudden change of plans for my sister, but I am looking on the bright side here).  That meant that instead of moping around the house on Cricket's Angelversary, we were able to get out of the house, into the wilderness, and do some camping and hiking with the furbabies.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Camping, hiking, and just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;being &lt;/span&gt;outside are really what I love.  I am one of those people who just feels at home and at peace as soon as I enter the woods.  Unfortunately this last couple of years has been jam packed with things that prevented us from getting our fix of the great outdoors.  We had a great time, and I have decided that should we still be on this journey to conception next year, we will take a month off of medical assistance in the spring and a month in the fall, just to make sure that we have time to get outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mr. Unexpected actually gave me a much needed metaphorical hand slap this weekend, too.  He said that he loves being my husband, and I said I didn't know why because it seems like only bad things have happened to us since we got married.  He said, "You got pregnant, and that was the best thing that ever happened to us.  Even if we lost the baby, it was still a good thing."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And he is so right.  It's so easy to forget the good parts of this journey.  But the truth is, I cried when I was waiting for my D&amp;amp;C because I didn't want them to take my baby from me, because I didn't want to lose that feeling of connection.  Because I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loved&lt;/span&gt; being connected to our Cricket.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cricket, we miss you so much.  We will love you forever.  And even if we never got to meet you, we are so lucky to have had you in our lives and in our hearts.  The months I had with you were the happiest of my life, and I wouldn't give up those memories for anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-6263820651001222401?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/6263820651001222401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=6263820651001222401&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6263820651001222401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6263820651001222401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/settling-down.html' title='Settling Down'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-1645282489698721469</id><published>2010-09-16T08:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T08:44:22.842-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering</title><content type='html'>One year ago today, Mr. Unexpected and I went to an OB appointment.  I was 12 weeks.  The doctor couldn't find the heartbeat on the Doppler, so she sent us for an ultrasound.  We found out that our baby, our Cricket, had died.  And nothing will ever be the same.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cricket would have been 5 months old by now.  A real live baby.  A loved baby.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The pain of our loss really does grow less sharp with time.  But there are those moments where you really think about it, you really let it sink in, you really &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; the unfairness of it all.  And those moments are.... what?  Yes, they are terrible.  But sometimes I think they are the only time I am being honest with myself.  And all the rest of the time that I'm living life as usual (or trying to, anyway) is all just a big ploy to cover up the fact that I'm &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so &lt;/span&gt;empty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;miss &lt;/span&gt;knowing that our baby is growing inside of me.  I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;miss &lt;/span&gt;imagining Cricket as a boy or Cricket as a girl and believing that I'll get to find out which fantasy is right someday.  I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;miss &lt;/span&gt;wondering what it will feel like when Cricket kicks me from inside my own belly.  I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;miss &lt;/span&gt;Mr. Unexpected kissing my belly and talking to Cricket.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss believing that I will hold my baby in my arms someday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, the unfairness of it all is so terrible, but sometimes it feels like it's all that I have left.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-1645282489698721469?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/1645282489698721469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=1645282489698721469&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/1645282489698721469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/1645282489698721469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/remembering.html' title='Remembering'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-4731808038465641671</id><published>2010-09-14T15:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T15:07:39.966-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Breaths...</title><content type='html'>I am finally starting to feel a little better, emotionally.  More like a person and not just a giant ball of rage.  I have really been feeling crazy for the past week or two, and it is so nice when that feeling starts to pass and I can just be calm.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got a call back about yesterday's bloodwork.  The TSH is lower at 3.6, but still higher than they like, so the Synthroid plan is still on.  The prolactin is back to 20- in the normal range!  That leads me to believe that it was raised due to the high TSH.  But the good news is that means no MRI, and we are on for our monitored Clo.mid cycle!!!  I start with my first pill tonight!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am wondering if this horribly irritable and depressed mood that I've been in lately is due (at least in part) to my thyroid being out of whack.  My worst days seemed to correlate with when my TSH was highest, and now that the levels are trending down, I am feeling better.  There is so much other stuff going on right now that it definitely could have been a IF- and loss- induced emotional meltdown.  But wouldn't it be crazy if these periods of extreme emotions were physically based?  Just a dream, I guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just want to say thank you so much for all the amazing comments and well wishes over the past couple weeks.  It means so much to know that there are people out there rooting for me.  And that they can understand this crazy rollercoaster.  You're all amazing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-4731808038465641671?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/4731808038465641671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=4731808038465641671&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4731808038465641671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4731808038465641671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/deep-breaths.html' title='Deep Breaths...'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-7500518805165132096</id><published>2010-09-13T15:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T15:22:16.948-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Health Issues</title><content type='html'>Today I heard from the nurse at my RE's office about the bloodwork I had done on Friday.  It turns out I am hypothyroid with a TSH level of 5.8 (they like to see it under 2.5) , and that I have high prolactin with a level of 68 (they want it under 20).  So I had to go get some repeat blood work done this afternoon.  If the TSH is still high, then I will start thyroid medication.  If the prolactin is still high, then I will get an MRI to look for a pituitary tumor and start bromocriptine.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And our Clomid cycle is on hold at least until we get the results back, probably until next cycle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And they can't fit me in for a HSG this cycle, either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pretty crappy day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-7500518805165132096?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/7500518805165132096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=7500518805165132096&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7500518805165132096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7500518805165132096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/health-issues.html' title='Health Issues'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-8001395897113015931</id><published>2010-09-12T21:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T21:43:17.981-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Same Old, Same Old</title><content type='html'>I wish I could figure out how to convince myself that this year is a fresh start.  Somehow it just feels like more of the same darn thing.  Maybe that's because my new year is starting off with a new period instead of a new pregnancy.  But I need to remember that during this new year of trying to get pregnant, we will have the additional help of fertility treatments.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In fact, this is what's planned just for this month:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  Bloodwork for me looking at TSH, glucose, insulin, and prolactin levels (already done, just waiting on the results).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  A semen analysis for Mr. Unexpected (scheduled for this Tuesday).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  A HSG for me (I have to call and schedule this tomorrow).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  Clo.mid (CD3-7) with ultrasound monitoring (to be scheduled tomorrow) and a HCG trigger.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really hope that it works, because I am starting to feel like I can't take it anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it doesn't help that this Saturday is one year since losing Cricket.  How could all that time have passed without a new pregnancy?  How can we still be at step 1 when Cricket should be 5 months old?  Come on world, just give me &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-8001395897113015931?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/8001395897113015931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=8001395897113015931&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8001395897113015931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8001395897113015931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/same-old-same-old.html' title='Same Old, Same Old'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-3269687596527076799</id><published>2010-09-08T08:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T08:47:44.568-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting Over</title><content type='html'>Today is a fresh start for me.  Well I hope so, anyway.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This birthday brings a new year, and it &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;has &lt;/span&gt;to be better than the last one.  Even though this cycle appears to be a bust (increasing spotting, some cramping, and negative FRER at 12 dpo), I have to believe some good things will happen this year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will &lt;/span&gt;be a mom.  I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will &lt;/span&gt;be a mom.  I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will &lt;/span&gt;be a mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I say it enough times, will that make it come true?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-3269687596527076799?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/3269687596527076799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=3269687596527076799&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3269687596527076799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/3269687596527076799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/starting-over.html' title='Starting Over'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-5218057001874637218</id><published>2010-09-07T19:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T22:48:04.734-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye and Good Riddance!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; "&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;Dear Age 26,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;F&amp;amp;^# you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You really know how to throw the sucker punches that will keep a girl down for weeks, don't you? And then you don't let up.  You just keep kicking her in the guts until she can't breathe, until she can't stand, until she can't even remember who she is or where she was trying to go with her life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, now you are on your way out, and I am proud to say that I survived you.  And I'm not letting you get away without some good old fashioned verbal abuse.  So, without further ado, let me list the ways I hate you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1)  You took Cricket from us.  Age 25 let us get pregnant, see our little one's beautiful heart beating, and make it &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;almost&lt;/span&gt; all the way through the first trimester.  And then here you come, Age 26, and suddenly, our Cricket is dead and getting ripped from my body and from our lives. What kind of a**hole are you, anyway?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2)  You changed all of our lives forever when my sweet sister (C) had a str()ke.  Suddenly C went from happy 24 year old to totally dependent on equipment and other people for all aspects of daily living, and she will probably never be the same again.  What can I even say about that?  It is just plain f&amp;amp;@#ing unfair, and utter bulls$@#.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3)  You took me away from Mr. Unexpected for the better part of 8 months.  When C was suddenly dependent on family for 24 hour care, I moved back home (out of state) to help take care of her.  That meant leaving Mr. Unexpected and our furbabies for most of 2010.  Because you hadn't already done enough damage, you had to rip me apart from my husband and my home?  Screw that, and screw you, Age 26!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4)  You took me away from my small support system.  I had only a few people who I would talk to about the things that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;mattered.  One was C, and she is gone in that capacity, probably for good.  And we moved away from the other 2 this year when Mr. Unexpected got a job in another state.  Now I have no one in real life to vent to and keep me sane.  That's just cruel, and I will never forgive you for it, Age 26.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5)  You stole $10,000 from me.  That is the actual amount of lost wages from my leave of absence to help care for C.  We could have been sitting pretty for all these fertility treatments we'll need, and now we're struggling just to pay the bills.  I don't usually care about money, but that one stings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6)  You forced me to give up my PhD.  It should work out that when I take a leave of absence from school to care for my &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;severely disabled &lt;/span&gt;sister, my boss is flexible (especially since he isn't paying me- see #5 above!!).  Instead &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; boss decides to put a completely unreasonable deadline on me due to a supposed budgeting issue.  And then he promptly hires someone to do my project.  And now I get a Master's for 5 years of work.  F@$* everyone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7)  You gave me a clotting disorder that makes it more likely for me to lose more of my unborn babies.  Yes, that's right, not only do I have to have the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;normal&lt;/span&gt; recurrent miscarriage worries in my next pregnancy, but I also get to do daily Lovenox injections and worry about my increased risk of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;second&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;third&lt;/span&gt; trimester losses.  Way to stomp on the pieces of my heart, Age 26.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8)  You made me a psycho.  I used to be calm, cool, and collected almost 100% of the time.  Now I am either on the verge of tears or on the verge of a rage attack almost 100% of the time.  I don't know if it was the loss of Cricket, the loss of C as I knew her, the cycle after cycle of BFNs, or any of the other million things that have sucked a$# this year, but something has driven me to near insanity.  And I blame you, Age 26.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9)  You made me infertile.  Add this to the sad, sad list.  We have been trying to have a living child for a total of 17 months, and for 12 months since we lost Cricket.  We are officially defective.  It will officially cost us money to (maybe) have children.  And I am officially losing it over this.  *&amp;amp;#^^&amp;amp;@*@(#*$&amp;amp;&amp;amp;$&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10)  You took away the life I dreamed of living.  A year ago, I thought that right now I would have my baby, have my PhD, have enough money to pay off a chunk of my student loans, have enough money to visit my friends, and have C to share my life with.  And now I have none of that, and it's not even clear whether I'll get any of it in the future.  I am truly lost.  What has happened to my life??!??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Age 26, you have f#$@ed me over royally.  And now, I'm kicking you out.  I don't need any more major life crises in the near future.  So GET. THE. F#$%. OUT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't let the giant pile of negative hpt's hit you on the way out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-5218057001874637218?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/5218057001874637218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=5218057001874637218&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5218057001874637218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5218057001874637218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/goodbye-and-good-riddance.html' title='Goodbye and Good Riddance!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-7461770473814515402</id><published>2010-09-06T15:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T15:18:47.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Crystal Unclear</title><content type='html'>7 dpo: My progesterone is perfect at 26.7.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9 dpo: My usual pre-AF spotting starts.  What the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;crap?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't have much else to say.  I was feeling good about this cycle.  Some spotting and some negative FRERs later, and I'm feeling pretty hopeless.  Stupid body.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-7461770473814515402?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/7461770473814515402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=7461770473814515402&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7461770473814515402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7461770473814515402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/crystal-unclear.html' title='Crystal Unclear'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-2573784605588164905</id><published>2010-09-04T20:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T21:07:57.320-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to the 1WW</title><content type='html'>Well, I finally figured out how to get my blood drawn to check my 7 dpo progesterone (plan 3 worked!)   My progesterone was at 26.7!  I haven't talked to my doctor about it yet, but at least I know I ovulated.  I have had this irrational fear for the last 6 months or so that I haven't really been ovulating, and that my temperature shifts are all in my head because I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; so badly to be ovulatory.  But I am happy to prove that bit of paranoia wrong!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent the day driving yesterday, heading back home from my trip.  And I have to admit that something weird happens to me when I am alone in my car with my radio blaring.  I cry.  It never used to happen before we lost Cricket, but now it does.  So, Layfayette, IN, I apologize for driving under the influence of country music.  And I have to get the following things off my chest:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  Damn you, Tim McG.r4w, for making me cry not once, but twice.  That's just not fair.  I get it, you sing songs with touching lyrics!  Stop rubbing it in my face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  Damn you, R.asc4l Fl.4tts, for making me cry every. single. time. I hear God Ble.ss the Broken Road.  And for making me think about how beautiful it will be to think of this struggle through loss and IF as just part of the path to my babies.  And then for making me wonder if this is really a path to my babies or just a path to a sad, childless life.  That's just cruel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  Damn you double, Tim McG.r4w, for making me cry in a song that isn't even sad.  Now you're just trying to make me look crazy.  Yeah, that's right, I cried when you did a bunch of stuff to make some girl smile.  Yeah, that's right, it's not sad.  GET OVER IT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  Damn you triple, Tim McG.r4w, for making me feel jealous of you for being able to have a little girl.  Even though you missed her birth.  BECAUSE YOU WERE DEAD.  I was officially jealous of a dead fertile.  WTF?!?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then I ended the trip with unprompted rage.  I spent at least 45 minutes being pissed off because Mr. Unexpected was going to be right (and I was going to be wrong) about what time I would get back home.  And hoping that he wouldn't say anything to me about it, because I would go into a bout of uncontrollable screaming, go into our room, slam the door, and go straight to bed.  But don't worry, I'm not moody or anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-2573784605588164905?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/2573784605588164905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=2573784605588164905&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/2573784605588164905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/2573784605588164905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/welcome-to-1ww.html' title='Welcome to the 1WW'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-4309589214253745387</id><published>2010-09-02T11:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T12:12:50.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Waiting Game</title><content type='html'>We have now reached the point in our regularly scheduled programming where we wait.  And wait.  And wait.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No real updates on the TTC front.  I am 6 dpo, in that no man's land between the excitement of confirming that I actually ovulated and the excitement of being far enough into the TWW to take a pregnancy test.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The biggest thing on my mind right now is figuring out how to get my 7 dpo progesterone bloodwork done.  It seems easy, right?  Walk into lab.  Hand over prescription.  Get stabbed with needle. Wait for results.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Except.  (There's always an except, isn't there?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I happen to be out of town at 7 dpo.  The solution is to get the bloodwork done at a Quest or LabCorp in the town I am in... oh, wait.  There are none.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, then my option is to get the bloodwork done at home on 8 dpo... oh, wait, that's a Saturday, and the closest lab that's open on a Saturday is 45 minutes away, and my family is visiting that day, and I can't exactly say "I have to run out for an errand.  Be right back." and then not come back for 2 and a half hours. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now I am trying to get my old doctor (in the city I am currently visiting) to write an order for the bloodwork, which I can get tomorrow at my old lab, and then get billed for.  Because I love paying out of pocket for tests that are covered by insurance.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-4309589214253745387?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/4309589214253745387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=4309589214253745387&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4309589214253745387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/4309589214253745387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/09/waiting-game.html' title='The Waiting Game'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-5378793762356936892</id><published>2010-08-30T08:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T08:48:35.042-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Official!</title><content type='html'>This morning when the alarm went off, I put my thermometer in my mouth and waited for that all important number to pop up.  I had been crossing my fingers for three mornings in a row.  If it was below coverline, then I didn't ovulate.  Do not pass O, do not collect any HPT's.  If it was above coverline, then I ovulated on Friday.  One small step for Fertile Myrtle, one giant leap for Mrs. Unexpected.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And what popped up after that annoying little beep?  97.90!  I ovulated!  And even though no one IRL will celebrate with me (or even know about it), it makes today an awesome day.  I got to plug my temperature into my Fertility Friend chart and get cross hairs!  I think my ovaries just did a little dance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And to top it off, on Saturday, just as my little egg was traveling down my Fallopian tube, waiting to get fertilized by one of Mr. Unexpected's swimmers, I found out that there is such a thing as Baby Dust.  No, not the metaphorical Baby Dust that we all sprinkle on each other in the online infertility and loss community.  But real sparkly dust that someone can sprinkle on you &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in real life &lt;/span&gt;while saying "Baby Dust".  Even though they have no idea that Baby Dust is something we all drool over and lust for and dream about every cycle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, on Saturday I got sprinkled with Baby Dust.  And even though it came out of a blush brush, and even though it was glitter, and even though the girl who sprinkled it on me was not a fairy, it's gotta mean something, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-5378793762356936892?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/5378793762356936892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=5378793762356936892&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5378793762356936892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5378793762356936892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s Official!'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-7181814062314831403</id><published>2010-08-27T09:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T09:15:14.551-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Chance</title><content type='html'>Today is THE day.  Let's get ready to OVULAAAAAATE!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BBT thermometer on the window sill next to the bed?   Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20 used OPKs, including 5 positive ones from the last 2 days?   Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tube of PreSeed hidden in the closet from Mr. Unexpected?   Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear Egg(s), It's time to drop!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is our last natural cycle before we enter the world of reproductive endocrinology.  Actually, I will be getting some blood work done, and Mr. Unexpected will be getting his SA (semen analysis) done before we even know if this cycle is a winner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If we get our BFP in 2 weeks, we get to enter the world of high risk OBs, pregnancy mood swings, frequent ultrasounds, Lovenox injections, and constant worries about whether our baby's heart is still beating.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If we get a BFN in 2 weeks (and I get AF (Aunt Flow, that old witch)), then we get to enter the world of fertility doctors, Clomid mood swings, frequent ultrasounds, HCG trigger injections, and constant worries about whether my ovaries are producing any follicles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmmm... what's the difference?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If we get a BFP, we're &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pregnant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If we get a BFN, we're &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;infertile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm rooting for Team Pregnant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-7181814062314831403?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/7181814062314831403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=7181814062314831403&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7181814062314831403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/7181814062314831403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/08/last-chance.html' title='Last Chance'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-5905258339521366255</id><published>2010-08-26T20:19:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T20:37:27.859-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift of the Present</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;And that pretty much brings you up to date on the sad story of my dream to be a mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Except for one thing, today- out of the blue- I feel hopeful about getting pregnant this cycle! And excited to try!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;And it made me realize how much of myself I have lost along the way.  I literally &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;cannot remember &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;the last cycle I felt hopeful about.  Or the last time I thought, "Hey in a few weeks, I could be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;pregnant."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;And here I am today, suddenly feeling like I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;want &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;(actually &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;want) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;try &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;(consciously &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;try&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;) to conceive (a REAL. LIVE. BABY.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;.  Like this is what it's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;, and I don't want to force myself to forget that anymore.  And now my brain is going:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;IAMSOTOTALLYCOMPLETELYCRAZYINSANEPSYCHOTICALLYJUMPINGUPANDDOWNSCREAMINGEXTREMELYFRICKINGEXCITEDABOUT TTCTHISCYCLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So after a year of TTC without thinking about what that really means, after a year without hope, I have suddenly convinced myself that this is my cycle, and I'm going to get a BFP (BIG &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;FAT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; POSITIVE!!) on my birthday, and I'm going to be pregnant before the anniversary of Cricket's departure, and I'm going to have my spring baby, and I'm going to be a MOM!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, that little part of me that knows how the world &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;works, knows that I'm just setting myself up for a big crash, but I don't CARE!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It's so unlike me.  So unexpected.  But I guess I am ready to accept it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-5905258339521366255?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/5905258339521366255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=5905258339521366255&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5905258339521366255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/5905258339521366255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/08/and-that-pretty-much-brings-you-up-to.html' title='The Gift of the Present'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-6414127838786331954</id><published>2010-08-26T19:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T08:16:05.879-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning to Cope</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Soon after the Unexpecteds ventured back into the world of TTC, they realized that they were going to have to fight for their Baby Unexpected.  Mrs. Unexpected's cycles were extremely irregular (F-ed up, if you will), and on top of that, a family crisis meant that she would have to spend most of her time out of state.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Still, they were committed to being together whenever there was a chance to conceive, even if that meant that Mrs. Unexpected would have to spend a whole month away from home so that she could be with her husband for the huge 3 week window during which she may or may not ovulate during any given cycle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Months passed, eggs were ovulated, and negative pregnancy tests were a dime a dozen (more like $6 a dozen, if you actually do the calculation).  Cricket's EDD (Estimated Due Date) passed without a new pregnancy to celebrate, and Mrs. Unexpected spent a day silently mourning her baby, who would only be acknowledged by a late night phone call from her husband.  (And by her MIL (mother-in-law), who was SO SAD about their loss because it meant that now MIL could not buy cute baby clothes.  We musn't forget that tragedy.)  With Cricket's EDD passed their one year mark of TTC and their last chance to have a baby in 2010.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;As more time passed, Mrs. Unexpected started feeling hopeless about their TTC journey.  She stopped imagining that time in the future when she would again hold another positive pregnancy test.  She stopped wondering what it would feel like to have a baby moving around inside of her.  She stopped thinking about an imaginary ultrasound tech's voice telling them that they would have a baby boy or a baby girl.  At some point, she stopped believing that she would ever be pregnant again.  Time and infertility had broken her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;And on top of knowing that she and Mr. Unexpected had months worth and thousands of dollars worth of infertility treatments ahead of them, she also knew that, due to a clotting disorder, her next pregnancy would be marked by daily Lovenox injections and fears of stillbirth.  It just seemed easier to let herself give up.  To keep trying, but to never think about what it was that she was trying for.  Because it seemed impossible that she would ever be able to get it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-6414127838786331954?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/6414127838786331954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=6414127838786331954&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6414127838786331954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/6414127838786331954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/08/learning-to-cope.html' title='Learning to Cope'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-8592848258001461263</id><published>2010-08-26T18:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T20:38:29.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life After Cricket</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;After Cricket was gone, Mrs. Unexpected spent a lot of time crying, a lot of time not sleeping, a lot of time not eating, and all of the rest of her time plodding through her life in a fog thinking, "How can all these people be going about their normal lives, making jokes and smiling and laughing, WHEN MY BABY IS DEAD?!?!?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When Mrs. Unexpected made it to the point in her recovery where her friends and family (and even Mr. Unexpected!!!) had stopped asking how she was doing and no longer acknowledged that Cricket had existed (and how could that have happened after less than 1 month?!?!), her grief turned to rage.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When her mother said unthinkingly, "It doesn't matter if you and Mr. Unexpected are here on Christmas morning this year because it's not like there are any babies involved," Mrs. Unexpected decided that the Unexpecteds would stay home for Thanksgiving and avoid their families.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When Mr. Unexpected FORGOT about her post-D&amp;amp;C follow-up appointment and left her to sit alone in the exam room, listening through the wall to a baby's heart beating in another woman's pregnant belly, she didn't talk to him for days.  And when they finally started talking again and Mr. Unexpected said it was a WASTE OF MONEY to save gifts that had been meant for Cricket as keepsakes and that they should just give CRICKET'S things to their next baby, Mrs. Unexpected stormed out of the house and disappeared for hours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But time kept passing, and when Mrs. Unexpected realized in November that she was finally ovulating, 9 weeks after her D&amp;amp;C, she and Mr. Unexpected decided to go ahead and TTC.  And with that small step forward, not away from Cricket, but toward her next baby and her future, Mrs. Unexpected started to feel like she was healing.  She would never be the same carefree person she had been before Cricket, but she felt like she could survive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-8592848258001461263?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/8592848258001461263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=8592848258001461263&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8592848258001461263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/8592848258001461263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/08/life-after-cricket.html' title='Life After Cricket'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377774445277142984.post-411786512370134908</id><published>2010-08-26T16:18:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T20:38:07.025-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TTC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='irregular cycles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='miscarriage'/><title type='text'>The Story of Cricket</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In preparation for their upcoming wedding, the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Unexpected began discussing when to start a family.  The answer: RIGHT AWAY!   That meant that they would officially start TTC (Trying To Conceive) Baby Unexpected in April of 2009.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So in December 2008, Mrs. Unexpected finished her last pack of birth control pills, and in March 2009, she began charting her BBT (Basal Body Temperature) and using OPKs (Ovulation Predictor Kits).  Because she had always had long cycles (35 days long) she wanted to be armed and ready to catch those eggs!  Unfortunately Mrs. Unexpected's ovaries weren't with the program, and decided to throw the newlyweds some irregular cycles (ranging from 30 to 42 days long).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When Mrs. Unexpected found herself holding a positive pregnancy test in July 2009, she was shocked, amazed, and so excited!  Bloodwork showed that her HCG levels were rising beautifully.  They even got to see their 7 week old Cricket's heart beating in August.  They were going to have their Baby Unexpected!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So when they went for another ultrasound in September and found out that instead of measuring 12 weeks, their Cricket was measuring only 8 weeks 5 days with no heartbeat, they were devastated.  Since Mrs. Unexpected's uterus was unaware that the pregnancy was no more, she had a D&amp;amp;C on September 18, 2009.  And after that, all they had of Cricket were some blurry ultrasound pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2377774445277142984-411786512370134908?l=acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/feeds/411786512370134908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2377774445277142984&amp;postID=411786512370134908&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/411786512370134908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2377774445277142984/posts/default/411786512370134908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acceptingtheunexpected.blogspot.com/2010/08/story-of-cricket.html' title='The Story of Cricket'/><author><name>Mrs. Unexpected</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17357790358558192352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B2-2xv3_Zjw/TJqZlZRBQLI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ZdHxwY-UVRU/S220/cricket.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
