The Lines That Changed Our Lives August 17, 2009

So here’s the dish.  I know a lot of you having  losing sleep racking your brains with how I told Lance the big news and how I found out I was pregnant.  I really want to help you be less anxious so I’m going to share it with you now.  Please enjoy.

Monday morning:  I got out of bed after a long night of sleep and felt like I had been hit by a mac truck.  I’d definetly never felt that way before but I only thought of it in passing moments during the day.  When you have been trying to have a baby for so long…eventually…you don’t take any symptom seriously.  Later that day I felt dizzy but hey, I do that all time with migraines and allergies.

Tuesday night:  I felt like my body had been running marathons along with rock climbing and kick boxing  and like I had been doing killer dance moves all day, even though I’d mainly been sitting.  I went to bed with a smile and thought to myself, “You are pregnant”, but again, I wasn’t fully buying the idea.  I wasn’t even supposed to start my period for 3 days.

That night I peed 3 times like a champion race horse in mass amounts.  Hmmmm…weird.  7:30 in the morning, I awake again to be a race horse.  I think to myself, “There are 2 tests in the bathroom.”  Then I think to myself, “You’ll be disappointed and you always regret taking early tests.”  5 minutes later I’m on the toilet, test in hand, fearing disappointment.  The control line shows up on the test like always and I thought, “See, I told you!  Doing what they always do when they are negative!”  Then to my disbelief I see a faint line appear.  I grabbed my face, gasped, and sobbed out loud.  I immediately stopped.  Was I seeing this?  I held the thing sideways, tilted it, stared holes through it, did whatever I could to disprove myself.  But the line got darker and darker and I held my face and cried out loud.  And cried.  Looked at the test…and cried.  I ran to the bathroom mirror and said, “I’m PREGNANT!  YOU ARE PREGNANT!  I’M PREGNANT!”  I took pictures of myself with the test, pictures of the test, and laughed and cried.

I thought, “I can’t tell anyone before I tell Lance.”  Next thought, “Who can I tell?”  So I called the Fertility Center as soon as they opened and told them I needed an appointment.  The receptionist said, “Date of birth, Dr. Name…”  I blurted out, “I’m pregnant. I’m so excited!”  Telling the receptionist wasn’t as thrilling as I had hoped so to make a long story short, I told two doctors, three co-workers, an 8 year old client who asked me if Lance would be mad I was pregnant, and my entire family all while Lance sat at work having no idea he was going to be a father.  I had NO self-control and enjoyed every second of it!  I found out at 7:30 am and Lance wouldn’t be home until 5!  What’s a girl to do?!

Here’s why I waited to tell him though.

When Lance and I were engaged, I gave him a scrapbook that chronicled our whole relationship.  I mean it had pictures from 6th grade until college, notes, tickets, name tags from church  camps, stories typed out of all of our memories…everything!  I had the idea 2 years ago when we first started trying to conceive to use the scrapbook for the announcement and I didn’t want to do it over the phone, I wanted to give him a BIG planned surprise the way I dreamed I would.

At 5 o’clock, Lance walks through the door.  I’m sitting on the couch with the scrapbook in my hand, heard pounding out of my chest so loudly that I fear he can hear it. I ask him, “Will you sit with me and look at our scrapbook?”  I thought he would at least say, “Let me take off my work clothes..”, but he didn’t.  He sat right down.

He flipped through the pages one at a time and I was a total mess and totally distracted.  Then he turned the page and saw something he hadn’t ever seen before, randomly placed in the book, right after high school homecoming pictures, was a new scrapbook layout.  And this one said, “The first time you heard, “We’re pregnant!”  In the middle of the page were the pictures I took earlier when I just tested positive: one of me holding the test smiling & a picture of the test stick.

He paused and stared at the page and said…”What?”

Moments of silence passed and then it hit him…

“SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!”

He turned to me and I was silently crying.  He grabbed me and hugged me so tightly and cried too.  Quickly, he pulled back, face grinning wall to wall and yelled, “NO WAY!  I DON’T BELIEVE IT! YOU’RE PREGNANT?!!!!!”  I pulled the test out from between the couch cushions just in case he had any doubts.  He laughed, jumped up and danced, yelled…he did it all.  I couldn’t have asked for a better response or a happier husband. Well, maybe I could’ve.  At one point soon after the announcement he got really excited and said, “Is that why your cheeks are getting fat?”  I looked at him sarcastically and silently and then he said, “No seriously!!!  Is that a side effect?”   Poor Lance.  So excited his commonsense went out the door. Fat cheeks or not, we were both elated.

So that’s how the story goes in a nutshell.

Each day I feel a little worse but I lay on the couch with my body aching and my stomach churning and I soak up every ache and yawn.  It’s the constant reminder that I have this baby growing inside of me.  It’s the reminder of everything I’ve wanted for the past 2 years.

I would say that I’m in shock and I suppose in some ways I am, but I have yearned for this for so long that I simply feel like I’ve slipped naturally into the role.  I feel so absolutely overjoyed and content that I’m calm and settled.

Very few times in life do things meet your expectations.  Then again, sometimes they are everything you ever hoped for. Today, I’m in the middle of everything hoped and I praise the Lord for this 1/25th of an inch blessing beating in my womb.  I’m humbled, thankful, and blessed as I type the words that felt like they’d never be written from my hands.  Thank you Jesus!  I can’t wait to meet you baby =0)

Toilet Tears August 12, 2009

I unwrapped it. Held in my hand and peed all over it. Inhale.

My minds drifts to all the times I’ve done this and to how many days have passed since I’ve taken the first one. During this time, I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I given up and believed again. I’ve been disappointed and hopeful. I’ve been frustrated at careless comments people have made. I’ve taken three tests for one cycle and then had to take one again even after my period started because, “Hey, this happens to people!” I’ve been embarassed to hope. I cried when I heard you were pregnant. I felt sincere jealousy of others for the first time in my life. I was disgusted with myself. Sitting on the phone crying to my best friend has happened more than once. Trying not to cry while talking to others? Too many to count.

I have felt so pregnant that I would’ve bet the house on it. I have passed fertility tests with flying colors. Eggs have been in places they shouldn’t. Computers have dictated my sex life. I’ve laughed while laying huge pillows under my pelvis and then been sad that I felt like I had to. Facebook statuses became my enemy. I have typed every possible symptom I have felt during the two week wait into ask.com. If I farted too loud I’d probably type “loud farting while pregnant in the first two weeks”. I have figured every possible due date I could’ve had on the online baby predictor calendars. Everytime I would hear someone else that had gotten pregnant, I could always determine how far along they were because I knew when I had to get pregnant to have a September, October baby, and so on. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on tests. I’ve felt like the “boy who cried wolf” every month. I had an omish guy diagnose my fertility correctly just by looking at my eyes two years before the doctors figured it out. I let my doctor convince me he was wrong.

I’ve watched the Easter baskets come and go on the shelves, turning into stockings, two times, and wondered when I’d need a basket or stocking to fill. I’ve gotten great news. I’ve come to terms with it, all to lose those terms again. I’ve been angry. I’ve prayed and prayed. I had cameras and lasers go in through my belly button and places where the sun don’t shine. I’ve taken pregnancy tests during the wee hours of the morning and the late, late hours of the night so I could get the news in secret so I could surprise Lance later just in case this was our month.

I became a scholar on conception and a novice at patience. I named my babies…okay so I did that 4 years ago. I looked at pictures of a live birth and thought, no thank you. I’ve talked to people that I never would’ve gotten the chance to bond with if not for this process. I’ve followed the stories of others in my position and when I heard you got finally got pregnant yourself I told person after person about it even though you were a stranger to them. I couldn’t believe it was finally happening for someone just like me and I felt the joy and relief for you. I’ve had the way I was going to surprise Lance with the big news hidden in our house for over a year and a half now, just in case. I’ve sat alone in a doctor’s office a week and day late for my period almost crying as I sat there because the possibility that this blessing would be mine to have was overwhelming. I started my period 2 hours later. I’ve prayed for you little baby. I’ve prayed for me, future parent. I’ve pictured a little child in a car seat years from now that I can see through my rearview mirror and I imagine thinking, “Oh how I loved you and labored for you before you were even mine to have.” My soul has yearned and desperately waited on the Lord.

And as I sat there on the cold, familiar toliet with the test in my hand, the past 2 years floated through my mind. I stared at the stark white stick that had mocked me too many times and I waited for any trace of life on its screen. And as one line gave way to two, questions gave way to answers.  Face buried in my hands crying,  finally….finally… Exhale.

25 and Prayin’ August 3, 2009

Alright so I ovulated this week. Okay, so I’ve ovulated about 25 times, literally, since I’ve started this whole process but one of those eggs has to be a winner. You know, a regular prize winning golden egg like the ones in the Wonka Factory.

Lance and I have our 5 year wedding anniversary Friday and we’re hoping for a nice late anniversary gift. 5 years of marriage and not so much as a fetus to show for it! What is this relationship coming to? =0)

Actually, I have felt pretty confident about this month but everytime after the egg has been put on the market ,I start to think, “What if I didn’t do enough or did something wrong?” I was feeling okay about it all until we got a call from another couple who is pretty much in our same situation and they brought up using Robitussin. If you don’t know why you would take Robitussin while trying to conceive, I’m not going to tell you. Just goggle your little fingers away.

They were telling a story about how the month their friends got pregnant after 5 years of infertility, was month they  used Robitussion. Of course everyone has a story of what they did “that month”. Who knows if it actually had anything to do with their conception. Ridiculous right? Why should another one of those stories ruffle my feathers? Speaking of feathers…it did. I ran to my fridge and reached for the eggs. Eggs? Foreshadowing? Hopefully.

The story reminded me that I only used eggs and Robitussin before I found out that I had endometriosis. Why did I stop? Dear girl, get ahold of yourself and some eggs and come to your senses!!!!

It was 11 pm at night and Lance was working on his sermon. I delivered the good news, egg in hand. Then it hit me, this egg is too cold. It’s supposed to be room temperature. Hmmmm, time is a ticking and it’s late so what I can do? Ironically, like a mother hen, the only thing I could think to do was sit on it on the couch. I wasn’t trying to be a chicken but I really think they are on to something with whole sitting on the egg idea. I wrapped mine in a washcloth just in case my crushing 105 pound body would shatter my baby egg. AND, I wasn’t in a roost so no laughing. There were many differences between me and the mother hens.

The egg warmed and so it was finished.

We’ll see if now I have my story to drive trying to conceive couples nuerotic with: a washcloth, egg, and couch roost. As they laugh I’ll giggle my baby in their face and yell, “WORKED FOR ME!” Man, some people are so judgemental.

Baby Gap July 16, 2009

Today I walked aimlessly around the mall with Lance, in search of a replacement pair of shorts. Roaming from store to store, we ended up in GAP where all the cheap shorts are. (note the sarcasm) After Lance showed me the third shirt that confirms that he WILL be rapidly declining in fashion to meet his final demise in his 40′s with dad jeans, I looked past the ugly shirts to tiny baby clothes that I never knew were there.

I have several pregnant people in my life so I started thumbing through the racks and piles. It’s hard to believe humans can be so small. It’s hard to believe they can charge you the same price for a shirt that’s 6 inches by 6 inches just as they would for a men’s XXL. Standing there and rumaging through piles I started to feel the ache that I always have stuffed somewhere inside. It’s a strange emotion to describe. Holding little vests and jeans in my hands isn’t bittersweet like some might think. I think the excitement of a future child would be the contrasting sweet part but I’m rarely full blown excited.  After so many months and now, 2 years, I know that there is a big fall from excitement to disappiontment.  In place of that feeling I have more of a vunerable hole that we as maternal beings have. It’s a hole that longs to be filled with a child but a hole that has hurt enough that it skirts around the edges of hope with caution. It’s almost more of a sense of loss than a bittersweetness.

It’s strange to mourn something you never had.

Even stranger still to mourn something that you will have somehow, someway. But I do.

I liken it to a Bride who is engaged whose father is absent, uncaring and won’t be there on that day to give her away. It wasn’t her’s to have. She knew it wasn’t hers to have but that doesn’t prevent the heart from dropping when it comes to mind.  Maybe this bride is lucky enough to have another special person to walk her down the aisle to take his place. Even still, as she sits in the pew and music plays, and she watches the bride walk arm and arm with her father, she still feels the ache of that absence.  That privelege.  It doesn’t have to be envy. It doesn’t have to be bittersweet. But it can be the loss of something. Even if it’s just the dream.  And it’s okay to grieve that.

Standing underneath the flourescent store lights at a baby clearance rack, I held the crumpled brown infant shirt in my hand. And I ached.  I felt the absence and I grieved.

I was suddently interrputed by Lance  who came proudly out of the dressing room wearing his final pair of replacement shorts. I put the 4.99, 100 percent cotton symbol of my solemn heart back on the rack and walked away. 

Many will have just read those words and think this is a story about self-pity.  Others will read the bride example and see it as a ephumistic story that describes envy.  Some will say this is all just a different take on bittersweet.  A quiet few will understand alongside of me that mourning doesn’t have to be self-pity.  Desire doesn’t have to be envy.  And pain doesn’t have to be bittersweet.  Albeit a fine line between them all.  

Standing at the checkout today, I finally came to terms with that myself after feeling so wrong for feeling sorrow over my infertility.  I wasn’t wallowing around as poor pitiful me.  I wasn’t desiring a child in an opposition to someone else having a child.  I wasn’t bittersweet.  I was mourning the loss of the dream where babies are conceived without pain and disappointment.  Mourning the absence of something I desire to love.  To those who have miscarried, I’m sure it is much of the same way.  The world doesn’t understand how you can feel so much affection for something you never had and never met.  But you do.  They were real to you.

This little nameless dream I have is very real to me and until that void is filled in my life from my own womb or someone elses, I’ll mourn it’s absence.

Punching in these final last keys, I silently appreciate that the tear on my cheek doesn’t represent the fact that I can’t accept my present, only that I am mourning and letting go of the dream that we have as children where will get married, have 3 kids, maybe 1 boy, 2 girls,  and we’ll all play in the yard behind the picket fence.  It’s hard when things don’t go as you planned.  No matter how necessary.

I’m no longer wrestling with my sorrow but rather sitting by it quietly, respectfully…letting it be.

It’s weird to mourn something you’ve never had. 

But I do.

Pills, Poop, & Pondering April 20, 2009

I don’t understand addiction to pain pills. They are great if you are in pain but at the same time, I feel so spaced out and tired that I could scream. They make me feel awful and good. Also, did you know that they cause constipation? Oh, I sure do.

Last night was terrible! Two hours of screaming in pain on the toilet and all at the hands of dear old constipation. I mean I could not think straight I was hurting so bad. Who knew your bowels could be the devil? I sure am glad Lance loves me because it all came to an end when he ran to Houchens and bought an enema. And then, gave me one. These things are little miracles in squirt bottles. It takes a lot of love to do that for someone. Although it also takes a lot of love and desire to get your stomach cut open and your organs burned with lasers so that you can give you and your spouse a child. It’s worth it though and I did get good news…not complaining. Baby or not I got fixed and that’s superb.

However, sometimes when I’m sitting here paying my baby dues and I look at Lance I think, so let me get this straight: I have had tons of blood work, painstakingly tracked my every fertile day, had dye pushed through my cervix to check my tubes, had surgery to get checked out and fixed followed by a 1-2 week recovery…then I’ll hopefully get pregnant, carry a baby for 9 months, go through labor, and then try to get my body back for a year? And what did Lance have to do, have sex hundreds of times? Wait a second….something seems off.

It’s hard being a woman.

Results April 17, 2009

I am on drugs so this is going to be simple.

I had to stay in stage 1 recovery for 3 1/2 hrs. instead of 30 mins because they were trying to get a hold of my pain and also because my heart rate was too high. I was supposed to leave Nashville at 12 and we didn’t get out until 430 but I’m glad its done. I wasn’t anxious at all.

Dr. said I have a significant amount of endo but I was not able to get the stage I was in. I have endo on my left ovary, back of my uterus, abdomen wall, and on my bladder. They found 3 polyps inside my uterus as well. She said endo was definetly the reason why I wasn’t getting pregnant. Polyps didn’t have anything to do with it really but she took them off anyways so they wouldn’t be a problem later.

Dr. said the surgery was great and she got all of it. Now I’m FINALLY like all the rest of you and for the first time in almost 2 years I can actually get pregnant. Praise the Lord.

I love oxycodone.

Be Careful With My Uterus April 14, 2009

I believe my fertility problems are in their final chapter. This Thursday the 16th I am going to have a surgery to see if I have endometriosis. This is the last possible test that I could have done and it’s either this or there is nothing wrong with me. The surgery is called lapraoscopy and I can’t WAIT to finally have an answer after all this time.

This journey to truth is going to start with an enjoyable colon cleanse starting on Wednesday. My doctor failed to mention that they are going to starve me the day before surgery and, not only deprive me of food, but empty any remaining remnants from my colon as well via constant pooping. Yippeee!!! I went today to buy the bottle of stuff I have to drink to make me “go” and it was only 1.88 so at the end of the day, I’m the winner. At least if they are going to make me poop all day, they made it a good bargain. Always love to save a good penny from the grocery store to me bum.

Anyways, I can’t eat from Tuesday night until Thursday afternoon so I’m going to totally look like Skeletor while I’m in surgery. Hope all the residents don’t notice when I’m butt naked on the table. Fingers crossed.

To put all minds at ease I will post the results of my reproductive findings as soon as I can remember too after all of the pain killers. It may be somewhat incoherent and while it might not educate you on my status, it may fill your faces with smiling. I’ll have my husband write a few boring sentences if nothing else.

Now I know before I go everyone wants to know what this surgery looks like:

They inflate your stomach with gas so they can move around all your junk. They go into your body several ways with cameras and laser and look for endo. If it’s there, they burn it off. Game over.

Now I’m sure you guys want to know what endometriosis looks like. There are 4 stages, one being the best, four the worst. Here’s a picture of a stage one and four:

Do you want to throw up? I sure do. The stage one picture shows little lesions called implants. Stage four shows the endometriosis going all wild style and putting the cobwebs of endo all over the place. If my uterus looks like Spiderman came and visited, I will be sad. Either way, the surgeon will remove it and make it like new.

NOOOOOOOWWWW, you are probably wondering what endometriosis is. Endometrium cells grow normally on the inside of your uterus lining which is what you shed during your period. Endometriosis is when these cells grow outside of your uterus. They bleed/shed no matter where they are which is one of the things that causes pain. If you have endo on the outside of your uterus or ovaries…the outside of your uterus and ovaries will bleed. You can have endo growing anywhere in your body in advanced stages. I know a girl who has it on her lungs. It really can grow anywhere. You can have a severe case with no symptoms at all or a very mild case with extreme symptoms. You can never tell. I would be in the little to know symptom category.

Endometriosis is one of the most common reasons for infertility and luckily, typically it’s very fixable. Doc said there’s a 75 percent chance statiscally that I have some stage of it and we will finally know for sure in a few measley days.

My doc also said that most women will be pregnant in 6 months or less. Six months sounds like a year to me at this point so I’m hoping and praying to be one of the lucky ones that get pregnant the very next cycle.

I’ll let you know how it goes. My blogs may be a little spotty the next week or so but we’ll see.

Pray for my surgery, uterus, and bottom.

Here goes nothing!!

I say fertility you say center…Fertilitly! (Center)! February 24, 2009

So I ventured out of state with the hubby yesterday to the Fertility Center. I went to see if the doctors could till the fertile or unfertile soils of my uterine goodies. It was quite the adventure. It was the first time Lance had ever been with me to a doctor’s visit where the star of the show was my lady business. He had a really hard time when I went to the doctor and they had to pull up my shirt and unbutton my pants to press on my stomach so I figured this would be a real challenge to his comfy meter.

Oddly enough, I ended up being the one who was more paranoid about him witnessing the intrusion of my secret places. I had to make him promise not to directly look it in the face. I’m not sure what happens when you do that but I feel like some sort of trauma would be involved followed by feelings of disgust. I think I will have to be in the pain of birthing before I’m comfortable being in the jumping jack position with a spot light on me.

Anyways, it wasn’t so bad when it was all said and done and Lance was very obiedent and obeyed his orders of no peeking, not that I think he was tempted. Thanks brother Lance.

After the “procedure”, we went back into the office and they asked us some questions. One of which was, “Have you fathered any pregnancies before?” I said, “Nope” and noticed a really awkward look on the resident doctors face. This was because when she asked that, Lance leaned back behind me and gave her big eyes and was mouthing yes to having fathered other children. As you can see, we handle infertility with a lot of maturity and dignity. It was funny though. Thanks again brother Lance.

When all said and done, turns out I look as healthy on the inside as a horse. Not just any horse though…a hearty birthing horse. Like some sort of prize winning mare.

BUT (screeching braking sound) they said we are still considered infertile because couples who don’t conceive in over a year are “infertile” wether they test like strong birthing horses or not. Doc says that 75 percent of women who test fine and don’t conceive in over a year will have endometriosis. So, that’s the next step. Surgery to see if endo is there and if it is, then they’ll remove it then.

She said “infertile” couples have 5 percent chance or less conceiving every month. SOOOOO glad I went to see them. I had no idea that a couple not pregnant in a year have a 95 percent chance or greater that they will NOT conceive every month.

Good news is—is that she told me I WILL have a pregnancy. It’s all in the Lord’s hands but I guess she thinks we are too healthy to not be successful in this whole bearing fruit thing. I’m really thankful for that. My mom and sister were very excited about the news but I think trying to have a baby after so long makes you sort of cautious. Sometimes cautious can be slang for “I don’t believe it will happen for me” anymore but I mean cautious. I’ll wait until they poke my uterus to death with cameras and probes to see what’s there before I jump the gun and throw a My Reproductives Rock party. See that’s cautious…I’m not saying there won’t ever be a party…I’m not even saying things don’t look in my favor…I’m just saying that I’m not buying ovary ballons yet.

Hope to have surgery to check out the goods in March. Hope to write you a blog somewhere between April and July with a big fat baby in my belly. Well not maybe big and fat but maybe a minature size baby that will easily leave my body in the appropriate 9 months.

The journey to Operation Coolest Baby That Has Ever Been Created continues….

The Countdown January 19, 2009

I’ve had several friends who have had c-sections. I’ve heard many of them say that there is some intial, fleeting disappointment that they didn’t get to push the baby out. It’s almost this sense of “not getting to give birth” even though you do, essentially, either way. I suppose, it’s not how you pictured it your whole life as a child. Sometimes I feel that way with trying to make a baby.

Everything we daydream about when we are young never has a flaw to it. On your wedding day, photographer’s don’t step on your veil and rip it out of your hair as you walk down the aisle. (Shout out to Sherly Lockett Studios)

And when you picture having a baby, you picture casually being with your hubby and enjoying life, only to to wake-up 2 weeks later screaming with surprise, fear, and joy on what you just read on the toilet seat.

There is an innocence to that type of conception. That innocence gets chipped away at when it becomes something you work for, literally.

My journey to conception thus far looks more like the mating rituals of wild beasts….at least for two weeks. There could be nothing more un-romantic than “trying to conceive sex”. The first two weeks, like we are programmed to do…literally because we use this computer that tells us when to…..Lance and I retreat to the bedroom on schedule. The first two weeks of the month, primarily the second week, is like running some sort of scientific marathon of endurance against desire and mother nature. There are times where we are getting ready to go to bed and I’m like, (boo hoo voice) “The computer says we have to do it.” =0( Lance: Boo Hoo Hoo.

If you’ve ever been there, then you understand. It’s a far cry from, “I’m feeling frisky tonight and SURPRISE frisky got us a baby this month!”

So I evny the 50th person this month who on my facebook has posted that they are pregnant with their first or even with their second. I evny the simplicity with which they arrived at their announcement. Most of their journies don’t involve science, 100 pregnancy tests, wondering what could be wrong, and blogging from the perspective of an egg.

However, my journey is my journey for it’s own good reasons. I’m grateful we are young and healthy. I’m thankfull all of the cards are “stacked in our favor”.

But as I sit here and anxiously countdown the minutes and hours until I can take the big test, I still evny the creation of a child where the process was protected from the repetitive disappointment of one simple pink line.

The days before I test are always the hardest and always when I feel the bumps of and bruises of the journey the most. It’s hard to be excited. It’s a journey that pulls you 50 different ways, 50 different times a month.

Today’s direction is that I don’t think I’m pregnant again which makes me envy people that pop-out kids like a pez dispenser. That’s the spirit Rebecca!

BUT I’m still trying to keep in perspective my blessings.

This is quite a ride….tick tock tick tock….we’ll see.

Putting All My Eggs In One Uterus January 14, 2009

The week of using dairy products in the bedroom has come to an end. Thankfully. I think I enjoyed the experience more than Lance did. Poor guy. I found it rather comical while he found it to be the single most un-sexual experience of his life.

You know, a lot people told me before I tried these doctor’s orders how gross they thought this was. Honestly, it didn’t really strike me as gross until seconds before. As I have been telling people, I would stick a whole pizza up there if I thought it would get me pregnant. Extra large pizza, cheese, and pepperonis? Whatever is necessary. One girl even told me, “You’d probably stick a whole chicken up there and let it lay it’s own egg!”

How can one person know me so well?

But anyways, back to seconds before it began to gross me out….

Lance was standing thrilled to death by our bed covered in towels. A sexual experience that begins in draping the bed in terry cloth is bound to be one of the most tantilizing experiences of your life.

So as the story continues, I’m standing in my adult dinosaur-printed footed jammies whipping an egg white and preparing to make myself a fertile egg of my own. As you can see, I like to start out already incredibly sexy experinces with tempting attire to top it all off.

Watching the egg whites beat around started to give me a gagging feeling. However, none so gaggy as when I had to suck it up in the medicine dropper…it was very much like, well, I can’t say. It’s just too gross. Am I having boundaries in blogging? (says the girl who posts about food slubricants….)

What happened moments later? You will never know. This will just have to be a cliff-hanger for you. I can promise you that it ended in our matress, most likely, becoming a carrier of salmonella. You may get food poisoning just from laying in our bed.

Some other words that come to mind to help you capture the event….ummm….un-sanitary, scrambled, natural disaster, maybe thoughts of toast and bacon, sad husbands, laughing wives….things like that are all good indicators of the experience.

HOPEFULLY approximately 3-4 chickens is all it took and there will be no need to fertilize my womb with food products next month.

Overall, I will give the week of eggs an 8 1/2 for cost effectiveness and good laughs. My husband will give it a 2 for being the exact opposite of every man’s fantasy. Chickens would probably rate it about a 7 for creativity. So…Lance is out numbered. Me and the chickens win. If needed, the chickens and I will gang-up on him next month and get him in his sleep if necessary.