having a hay day

So, I help with the middle school/high school student ministries at church.  So, last night was this big “special” night.  Instead of our normal Sunday night programming, we had this big fall themed frenzy and brought in 40 bales of hay and played different games using the hay, etc.  Well, all of this was done in a not-well-ventilated gym.  There was a haze over the whole place halfway through the night.

 Today, I feel like my lungs are full of dust that has compacted itself into a hard little brick.  I’ve been completely out of commission all day.  Does anyone have any suggestions for improvement or do I just have to ride it out?

this is what contentment looks like

So, last night some of my friends and I got together to watch [some of] our college football team whoop up on a rival.  As we’re watching the game, we’re chatting.  Here are a few of the topics we chatted about:

• politics
• planting grass – fescue v. bluegrass
• other miscellaneous landscaping
• babysitters
• ten-year high school reunions
• remodeling bathrooms

It was this interesting dichotomy of memories of the light-hearted college students we used to be and the lame adults we’ve turned into.  To top off the lame-ness, half of us left at halftime because we had to be up early this morning!

All of that to say - I really don’t mind being lame.  I’m happy being lame.  Content.

daddy’s little girl

Today I am wearing these:

I pretty much love them with my whole body.

 

doctor’s appointment email 10/4/2007

(I’m posting this email that I sent to my accountability group, just because I’d like to have all of this business in one place and its easier to move one email here than all of my other rambling somewhere else.  Parts of this are in various other posts on my blog, but this was the first time I put it all together.  By the way, the offer for baked goods only applies to people I know in real life.  I can’t be mailing my goods all over the Internet.)

Hey girls.  I was thinking that I would update all of you on my doctor’s appointment junk since I’ve talked to a couple of you about it.  This way you’ll all have all the scoop there is and I won’t take up a bunch of time talking about it on Tuesday night, or risk another meltdown a la this past Tuesday morning Philippians Bible study.  Settle in, this will most likely get long – hence me emailing it instead of taking an hour rehashing on Tuesday night.  I’ll try to keep it light and be funny.  I don’t have a lot of jokes about chromosome testing though.

So, we went to the RE (reproductive endocrinologist aka fertility doctor aka specialist aka really fast talker) on Monday morning.  I was there for 3 hours and 15 minutes – about half of which was time spent waiting and me getting mad about waiting.  During that waiting time, I assumed that every husband that was there was there to “give a donation” and for whatever reason, that was giggle worthy for me.  Seriously, I’m so immature.

The diagnosis is still no diagnosis and more tests.  They took some blood, are going to take some more blood and are going to do a dye test after my next period where they shoot dye into my uterus and fallopian tubes to make sure everything is shaped normally and looks normally.  I’m guessing that after that, we will need to make a decision as to when to “try” (I hate the phrase “trying to have a baby” by the way – not sure why, it just sounds stupid to me) again.

There is a chance that I have a mild version of PCOS (poly cystic ovarian syndrome).  It obviously has not kept me from ovulating, but possibly could be causing me to produce not as good of eggs.  We’re moving forward with treatment for this and for a couple of other possible things.  Speaking of treatment – I went to the pharmacist Tuesday and picked up FOUR prescriptions and TWO over the counter meds.  Can someone tell me when I turned into a 76 year old?  Feel free to purchase me a state-of-the-art pill box for my birthday.

  

We turned down the chromosome testing.  Basically, we can spend $800 (maybe less if insurance covers it) and do the testing and have a less than 10% chance of finding anything wrong.  Then, if we do find something wrong, we will either have to do IVF (in vitro fertilization), donor sperm or adoption.  Well, IVF and donor sperm are not options for us, and adoption is most likely our next avenue if our next pregnancy doesn’t work out.  The question is – is it irresponsible to not do the test and take the risk of creating a life that has no shot of making it beyond a few initial heartbeats?  I’m at peace with passing on the tests, so that was more of a rhetorical question. 

I didn’t realize until almost the end of the appointment that they were assuming we would be doing IUI (intra uterine insemination) – which is where they would take Husband’s sperm (giggle), wash it, then shoot it up in me after giving me a trigger shot that induces ovulation.  It kind of threw me off guard once I realized they were assuming we would do this.  I mean, we haven’t had problems gettting pregnant.  It’s been the staying pregnant thing that has been the issue.  Plus, that doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun to me as the old-fashioned way of doing things.

The good news is that insurance covers everything that we are choosing to do ( i.e. not the chromosome testing, not the IUI).  And, I’ve managed to hit the annual deductible ONLY BEING ON HUSBAND’S INSURANCE FOR  2.5 MONTHS), so the cost to us will be minimal, and we will opt for the better insurance coverage starting in January, so even though we will hopefully hit our deductible again next year because we will actually be having a baby at some point, we won’t have to sell our house and move into B’s basement.

As far as the breakdown on Tuesday goes – I had decided that I need to stop complaining about people not being 100% genuine in small group situations if I’m not ready to do it myself, so I decided to share about the miscarriages with my Philippians discussion group on Tuesday morning and the perfect discussion question managed to present itself and for some reason as soon as I opened my mouth, I started the ugly-cry-face.  I totally didn’t see it coming and it caught me way off guard – I mean, I had just talked to KW about it Sunday without even a thought of a tear or a single lump in my throat.  I barely pulled it together for the rest of the group and then afterwards, M and R – who were in two separate groups, but apparently witnessed my “episode” came over to give me a hug and make sure I was all right and I lost it all over again.  Then, on my way to Chipotle to have lunch with R, I kept breaking down again.  It was really pathetic, let me tell you.  The conclusion that I came to is that this appointment plus this whole obnoxious situation were more stressful to me than I realized.  I’ve been pretty emotionally fragile all week, but I think I’m coming around.  I’m reading the first half of Philippians 2, and I’m realizing how self-involved a lot of my thought life has been lately – focusing on all of this stuff, not even necessarily in a “woe-is-me” type of way, but just thinking about it a lot.  This is not productive and I think that Satan has been using it to steal my joy (another Philippians reference), so I’m remedy-ing the self-involved stuff by typing a 10 page email to my friends that is all about me (teehee). 

One last note.  I have been having a lot of problems sleeping this week.  The only thing I can chalk it up to is stress about all of this.  I don’t feel stressed, but I think I must be or why else would I have broken down like I did on Tuesday?  Then, the lack of sleep is causing me to stress more and its a vicious cycle.  I’ve decided to take at least a double dose of sleeping pills tonight, and pray for at least 6 solid hours of sleep.  So feel free to pray for me on that.  If you don’t hear from me in the next 48 hours, its because either:

1. I overdosed on sleeping pills.
2. The sleeping pills didn’t work, so I tried something harder…and injectable…mixed with liquor.
3. I turned into Rip van Winkle.
4. More preferably, I turned into Sleeping Beauty, minus the whole finger prick thing.

If you made it through this email – I owe you one of your favorite baked goods.

working girl

So, I’m going back to work.  Well, sort of.  A former co-worker of mine – who has actually taken over the bulk of my old job - called me yesterday to see if I would be willing to help out while one of my old account reps is out on maternity leave.  I had anticipated that this was coming.  When I saw the missed call on my phone, I knew what it was about and I subconsciously made a mental checklist of what it would take to get me to do it.  On that list:

• Part-time status – 2-3 days/week.
• No phone or face-to-face contact with clients.  This would be too confusing for the clients - who from my understanding still ask about me - and quite frankly, they were a pain when it was my job to deal with them.
• Money.

Money is the tricky one.  There are a few different ways to look at it:

1. You should pay me an hourly rate of what my former salary was.  Well, this is nice to think about in theory, but my salary was considerably higher than the salary of the gal for whom I will be coming in to work for.  I feel a little greedy asking for that.
2. You should pay me an hourly rate equal to that of the salaried position I’m filling in for.  Well, this seems a little low to me.  I mean, if the alternative to me coming in is for them to hire a temp with zero experience with/knowledge of the company, wouldn’t I be worth the extra?  I know for a fact that I work faster and more efficiently than the gal I will be filling in for, so I think I’m worth more than her.  (In fact, I would have fired her, if I hadn’t left.)
3. You should pay me a rate somewhere in between option 1 & option 2.

Well, homeboy called and my first two requirements were slam dunks.  I didn’t even have to ask, he pitched it as looking that way – which is the way everything always was at my former job.  I never had to ask for a raise and when I got one, it was always more than I wanted.  I never had to ask permission, I just did as I saw fit and everything was always kosher.  The only thing I ever had to ask for was permission to hire new people and it was less like asking and more like saying, “I need to hire someone to help me, this is how I see it looking, and this is what I would like to pay them.”  As far as money goes, he said: “I would think we would pay you at least $x/hour.”  Well, “x” was a number that was about 70% of what my former salary would have worked out to and about 15% more than the salary of the gal I’m filling in for.  I guess in a perfect world, the offer would have been a few dollars/hour higher.  I’m sure I could ask for that and get it with no argument, but I don’t like asking – I feel greedy.

So, the big question is – should I ask?  When you boil it all down, for what I’m going to be doing, I’m getting paid WAY more than the work itself is worth.  I mean if they hired a temp, it would probably be at about half of what they are offering me.  I feel more comfortable with the idea of not asking.  I know that I will be writing my own ticket as far as work hours and work days.  I feel like my relationship with this company has always been one where we are good to each other and I always liked that about it.

The other piece is that this guy who is asking is someone who I go to church with.  He is the one who initially got me the job there when I was unemployed.  He took a risk on recommending me when he really didn’t know me – other than being his high school daughter’s small group leader.  Of course, it paid off big time because I was a great find and anyone at that company will tell you that I went above and beyond, but it was a risk and we have a relationship beyond just the professional.  I think I’m going to take the offer as is.

So, the real question is – which hairstyle should I go for on my first day back:

do-re-ME-ME-ME

The sleeping pills didn’t kill me.  In fact, I’m still in a sleeping pill induced haze.  It will probably wear off by noon.

I’m reading the first half of Philippians 2, and I’m realizing how self-involved a lot of my thought life has been lately – focusing on all of this baby/no-baby stuff, not even necessarily in a “woe-is-me” type of way all the time, but just thinking about it a lot.  This is not productive and I think that Satan has been using it to steal my joy (another Philippians reference), so I’m remedy-ing the self-involved stuff by typing all of my thoughts out for the whole internet to read. 

mr. sandman

So, I have not been sleeping well this week.  I am usually the queen of sleeping – able to fall asleep pretty much anywhere and remain sound asleep through a lot.  I’m going to just go ahead and chalk it up to stress about this dumb fertility business.  I think I’m falling into this cycle where I’m sad and overwhelmed and stressed so I don’t sleep and then that lack of sleep is causing me to continue to be sad and overwhelmed and stressed.  I cancelled my plans for tonight and am going to pop at least a double-dose of sleeping pills (what’s more pills in the grand scheme of things, right?) and pray for a minimum of 6 solid hours of sleep.

If you don’t hear from me in the next 48 hours, its because either:

1. I overdosed on sleeping pills.
2. The sleeping pills didn’t work, so I tried something harder…and injectable…mixed with liquor.
3. I turned into Rip van Winkle.
4. More preferably, I turned into Sleeping Beauty, minus the whole finger prick thing.

just do it

So apparently today is National De-Lurking Day.  At least according to two of many blogs at which I am a regular lurker.  The announcement didn’t pull me out of my lurker status, but feel free to expose yourself here…or not.

three years…

Three years ago today, I got a call from a sobbing high school student from my small group.  Her dad had been killed in a car accident.  Her parents were divorced and she lived with her mom, but her dad was the constant in her life.  He was who had always gotten her to church and who introduced her to Jesus.  He was the one who had rules for her that she, by her own teen-aged admission, craved.

I saw the church and the students rally around her and her stepmom like I have never seen before.  In my mind, it was a picture of what the body of Christ is to be.  She stayed with me for a few days – trying to escape normalcy.  I fixed her soup, we ate lunch with the youth ministers, we shopped for something for her to wear to the funeral, we dyed her hair just because.  In the quiet moments when she was sleeping, I sat dumbstruck by her reality.

She is a sophomore at college now.  Through her step-mom and other Christians, her mom is a transformed person – I was at her baptism.  Today, she is sad, remembering the dad she lost three years ago.  I am sad for her too.  It’s hard to not think about the moments.  He won’t be there when she graduates from college, he won’t be there to walk her down the aisle at her wedding, to beam with pride as he holds her children.  He’s not there to call when her dishwasher is making a funny noise or when she wants to know what kind of grill to buy.

I know that she’ll be okay through all of those moments and many many more.  But, today, I know she is sad.  I’m sad too.

old

Yesterday I went to the pharmacy to pick up four prescriptions and two over the counter meds.  When did I turn into a 76 year-old woman?