tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77268371834432031362024-03-05T18:25:18.944-05:00Hen FruitBirds, Bees, Infertility ExpertiseQue Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-14655696872731893842010-02-08T16:56:00.002-05:002010-02-08T17:00:36.023-05:00Why?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevxclr7CH1cGqIT2EKJ6HuVJmACcR2tzUuLEJxmUA1TaFwrnmk285PUj-cdBSYJ0_EJvlK6NvcW3HmokRErkJN_nmw-ru65Oc-CghQ4sj1iu8O1rFXxsTQt7wMZIMVdUeECKXhNTLadA/s1600-h/Egg+and+Shell.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevxclr7CH1cGqIT2EKJ6HuVJmACcR2tzUuLEJxmUA1TaFwrnmk285PUj-cdBSYJ0_EJvlK6NvcW3HmokRErkJN_nmw-ru65Oc-CghQ4sj1iu8O1rFXxsTQt7wMZIMVdUeECKXhNTLadA/s320/Egg+and+Shell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435995875158088994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Without a doubt, February is a very woeful month for me. 2 days from now, it will be exactly one year that I received the news. After 2 years of medical fertility intervention, my first pregnancy was not viable.The baby was growing in my right fallopian tube. I was responsible for creating a precious life and then I was responsible for sweeping it away to save my own. Sign here on the dotted line. I remember every detail as if it were only yesterday. I worry that it will happen again.<br /><br />As I approach, what doctors consider "advanced maternal age”, I continually weigh my options. I’m faced with the ultimate decision – be happy with life as it is…childless…avoiding more invasive medical procedures and move on with my life. OR, I could start over and try every experimental gynecological procedure under the sun to assist in our child’s conception while I’m still young-ish.<br /><br />I feel so desperate. I feel as though the rug has been pulled out from under me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not eager to be sliced open like a grapefruit. I’m not prepared to put my body through even more medication distress. I’m not satisfied with living a childless life. I’m not ready to compromise.<br /><br />I fucking hate (unexplained) infertility.<br /><br />It wasn't my choice. I’m heartbroken.Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-49314535423464458652009-06-09T09:01:00.001-04:002009-06-09T09:40:23.840-04:00Maybe If You Just Relax.<p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/sad_sweetheart.jpg" /><br /><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">People will tell you<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">Relax.<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">Don't try so hard.<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">Things happen<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">When you least expect it.<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">But,<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">I'm still out there<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">Searching<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">For the unattainable<br /></span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">Miles and miles from home. </span></p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-41832669480693558162009-06-04T13:06:00.005-04:002009-06-09T09:40:54.929-04:00To IVF or Not To IVF?<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsjhgE-1BJ7K1dAjvsVXWcwQt1JJXjIdSt0fNqC2jXADEa1QUoc0aIRdyyBZPYe97Yp0TLUwITF2VCKsVrLY4rJEFgGOK33g1PIyUmUSOnNNkiyDqp4Q52P2VsvlpRX-Y0ZMRRlKq308/s1600-h/egg_14.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsjhgE-1BJ7K1dAjvsVXWcwQt1JJXjIdSt0fNqC2jXADEa1QUoc0aIRdyyBZPYe97Yp0TLUwITF2VCKsVrLY4rJEFgGOK33g1PIyUmUSOnNNkiyDqp4Q52P2VsvlpRX-Y0ZMRRlKq308/s320/egg_14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343521730143189346" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">...that is the question. Indeed.<br /></div><br />DH and I are scheduled to attend an IVF informational session this evening sponsored by the hospital. As it stands, DH and I agree that this is probably not for us. However, I don't want to dimiss something I'm not truly clear on. SO. We reserved our spot for the seminar. It is approx. 2.5 hours long and hopefully will answer most of our questions about the procedure.<br /><br />I'm still on the fence concerning lap surgery. We recently switched insurance companies at work and found out that they will only pay after our $2500 deductible. Egads. I'm hesitant to have the surgery only to discover that RE can't find anything wrong...on the other hand, what if he does and it can be fixed. Back and forth. Back and forth.<br /><br />In other news, my sister is coming to visit (YAY!) and we have plans to go to the tattoo shop. I need some touch-up work and my sister's girlfriend is getting something large and fabulous on her arm. I really love when they come to Connecticut! It's always a good time, no matter what we end up doing together. It'll surely be a nice diversion from our everyday worries. Have I mentioned that my sister offered to be a surrogate out-of-the-blue one particular phone conversation? I'll save that juicy bit for another day.<br /><br />Fare thee well.<br />xxxQue Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-80910547408828208532009-05-30T09:00:00.000-04:002009-05-30T11:04:42.218-04:00I am Pelé<p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/divider9.gif" /></p><br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/l_62666d06f17f3249cc382487bc3b4715.jpg" /></p><br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/divider9.gif" /></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Leave me be.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Isolated.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">A scratchy mantle </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Like a shield</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Covering my damaged surface ~</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Cracked outer shell.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">My dome appearance</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Outwardly </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Solidifying</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">To crusty cool.</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;"></span></span> </p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Raging inside.</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Million bits bursting</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Blistered</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Burning</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Engulfed in flames</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Spitting searing sparks.</span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;"></span></span> </span></p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" lang="EN"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Most active</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Mountainous perception.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Massive internal swelling,</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Nature's course. </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Time's indication,</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Violent expulsion,</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Through that cursed gaping hole.</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;"></span></span> </p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Down deep</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Melting hot</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Lava flow</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Escaping from caverns below.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Unstoppable river force</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Heavy </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Thick</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Slow-moving</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Molten Red.</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;"></span></span> </p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Stress intensity ~</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Telltale sign</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Towards consistent eruption occurrence. </span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Immense proportion</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Causing great damage</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Along its violent pathway</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">Vaporizing fragile landscape.</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:85%;">All life lost.</span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"></span> </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"></span> </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Courier New';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Tahoma;color:#666666;">Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;"></span></span></span></span></span>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-32622120494459347642009-05-27T10:30:00.004-04:002009-05-28T09:44:07.863-04:00It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtDjE_gh680X0etIpxgDxqt4_sYNwRXvwUTMfW9otS8CEfTIKvslaCWci-LI7EKJV1ychtR-7fZUElgtb3sYV7YRggBVSZqPCIoxZ2iF5D4GzskvAX0VQDJ9-yKx0-AFyDAw7Ut_A-zs/s1600-h/EggCupEaten.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtDjE_gh680X0etIpxgDxqt4_sYNwRXvwUTMfW9otS8CEfTIKvslaCWci-LI7EKJV1ychtR-7fZUElgtb3sYV7YRggBVSZqPCIoxZ2iF5D4GzskvAX0VQDJ9-yKx0-AFyDAw7Ut_A-zs/s320/EggCupEaten.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340511258911353058" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I had my consultation appointment yesterday with RE concerning the options available to me since the ectopic. As it stands, there are (3).</div><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><ol style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;" start="1" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal">HSG to detect whether my right tube is now blocked from the ectopic. If so, IVF. If not, continue with IUI and hope for the best.</li><li class="MsoNormal">Straight to IVF bypassing tubes altogether.</li><li class="MsoNormal">Laparoscopy to determine if my tubes are blocked, cysts, anything that would prohibit pregnancy…or find nothing wrong at all.</li></ol><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">I sat there with my mouth gaping open. In February when my ectopic was diagnosed and needed immediate response, I tried everything in my power to avoid lap surgery to remove my tube. Now, after (2) rounds of the demon methotrexate and my hCG level back to -0-…I’m still under the radar for an invasive procedure that may or may not find anything wrong with my body. An u/s revealed fluid movement around my uterus, so RE is quite sure he will find something awry with my innards.<br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">Needless to say, I’m pretty upset. So upset in fact, I called my mother last night because I really needed someone else’s opinion of what is happening to me. My mother had (4) children of her own so I’m sure it is not easy for her to help me; however, I just wanted to bend someone’s ear and she came to mind. I could barely mouth a full sentence and I broke down in tears on the phone.</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">I do not like my mother to see/hear me vulnerable for many reasons. However, I really feel desperate. I feel as though the rug has been pulled out from under me and there’s really nothing I can do to change it. I’m faced with the ultimate decision – be happy with life as it is…childless…avoid invasive medical procedures, as I originally intended, and move on. OR, try every experimental gynecological procedure under the sun to help conceive my child while I’m still young-ish.<br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">I’m just not eager to be sliced open like a grapefruit. I’m not prepared to put my body through even more medication distress; I’m not satisfied with living a completely childless life. I’m not ready to compromise. I’m starting to crack under the pressure.</p></div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-54731068232080762622009-05-24T08:57:00.001-04:002009-05-25T16:08:02.950-04:00How Do You Put a Title on Profound Thought?<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/postcard_stork_with_doll.jpg" /></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Name Field: Blank.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Current Status: Blank.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Mood: Blank. </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Classification: Blank.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Date: Blank.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">I lay on my back with my naked skin touching the crisp paper wrapper. It crinkles and sticks as I shift side-to-side for a more comfortable position. Looking up, I notice the abstract mobile floating aimlessly above my head. Twisting wire is attached to assorted geometric shapes in primary colors of red, blue, and yellow. My eyes focus on the powdery dust that speckles their tops like heather-gray woolen caps.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span> </p><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">The white lab coats walk through the heavy wood door and as if by involuntary reflex, my legs automatically spring forth. I slide my ass to the front of the table, rest my navy blue stripe stocking feet into the stirrups, and take a deep breath. Their voices are calm. Their smooth latex hands are cold. A rough cotton sheet covers my knees and thighs. I refuse to look straight ahead. My mind goes completely blank.</span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"> </span></p><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">My eyes are closed while my other senses amplify. A chilly metal cone-shape gadget is inserted carefully in my open vagina. The mechanism pokes and stretches wide like the skeletal veins of a shoddy umbrella. I clench my fists feeling every slight peck and scrape of the razor tool. Seconds seem like hours. A salty tear slides down my weary face and delicately touches my dry cracked lips.</span></span></span></p><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"></span></span><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">A maternal voice speaks softly. I nod. It gradually comes out of me, rests on a metal tray, and is traded for another foreign medical object. I can feel the muscles in my abdomen clench as the lubricated condom-covered dildo-like device is inserted deep inside. I squirm. The device swirls within, moving back and forth scanning my innards with high frequency sound so as to detect abnormal growths, rips, blockages, and worse: cancer. I can't see the small screen that projects an image of my womb, but I hear a slight mumbling under faint breath in a language I can't seem to comprehend. I agonize.</span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span> </span></span></span></p><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">My heart beats wildly within the walls of my chest cavity as if it were about to feverishly burst. I wish my husband was holding my hand. I sink well-absorbed into the table's padding as if it were a rectangular pool of water. I am not there in the examination room. My mortal body is.</span></span></span></span></span><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"> </span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"></span></span></span></span></span></p><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">The tapping of leather soles on expensive footwear resounds throughout the space as if the procedure was occurring in an underground cave. It startles me to awareness. I'm empty and wet. Someone hands me a scratchy square napkin. I use it to blot my face.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"></span> </span></span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">It takes all of my strength to lift myself up. The ghostly figures move away and my gaze settles on my husband seated patiently in the corner. I yearn to sit on his lap and curl up into a little fetal ball. My internal clock resumes its instinctive ticking. I reach for the rumpled denim skirt hiding my blood-stained underwear and dress myself in anticipation of my next reproductive assignment. It hits me. Profoundly, we are already dutiful parents in a process of rebirth in our relationship where the initial creator key is due acceptance. What is done now is only the beginning.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span> </span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"> </span></span></span></span></span></p><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">"Sarah? This way, please."</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span> </span></span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span> </span></span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';" ><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';" ><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';" ><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:'Calibri','sans-serif';" ><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:Tahoma;" >Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"> </span></span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;" ></span> </span></span></span></span></span></p><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"></span></span></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;" ><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/betsywetsy.jpg" /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-12791565184203877432009-05-22T08:47:00.001-04:002009-05-22T09:02:45.157-04:00Mental Gems, Diamond MindThe weekend before Mother's day, our local tea shop hosted a Victorian tea. Being a small place as it was, I made reservations for my mother-in-law and me to ensure our spot. There would be a woman there, dressed in Edwardian garb, sharing Victorian tea etiquette whilst we ate cucumber finger sandwiches and biscuits and drank delicious teas.<br /><br />mMmMmMm. Raspberry tea with fresh lemon:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1O7jxVXrSIWiKIJPXJWDGUbmZARhBh2ggTpxv0QHr-YHmiZz8k_5Zia_7Bh1o7LZIxNV0yuV2pvTp9tJz62iHn17BiUVhtYK69XczZDGpLLuSWtXSgNCkf9G7ej_96wPbVZQMvWqrqU/s1600-h/n1179435938_30290837_6498319.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1O7jxVXrSIWiKIJPXJWDGUbmZARhBh2ggTpxv0QHr-YHmiZz8k_5Zia_7Bh1o7LZIxNV0yuV2pvTp9tJz62iHn17BiUVhtYK69XczZDGpLLuSWtXSgNCkf9G7ej_96wPbVZQMvWqrqU/s320/n1179435938_30290837_6498319.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338266061168622482" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I simply had to make something for the occasion...and in one day designed this necklace in pseudo-Victorian mechanical "steampunk" style. The collage pendant was given to me by an artist ~ I wired the rest of it and added the rusty keys amongst other bits:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS05qinTRN95GDG-5qclCg8lgSWdWS8FqE7zajH1fE59evrJzHSia__rfkejwkRkJQjXIIke5uSRb-R7HQtI-1riHkgidbl9U9P1makLEqxNU8QIphT4xyw9kCTOQBPtv0Vg3qffTMv_Y/s1600-h/n1179435938_30290834_4084714.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS05qinTRN95GDG-5qclCg8lgSWdWS8FqE7zajH1fE59evrJzHSia__rfkejwkRkJQjXIIke5uSRb-R7HQtI-1riHkgidbl9U9P1makLEqxNU8QIphT4xyw9kCTOQBPtv0Vg3qffTMv_Y/s320/n1179435938_30290834_4084714.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338266215797875826" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilc2TArPFW3PS9Mimh6IivV2ZGfQx8WBhVVi0EU99_9lJCti227661Oc2NC50T4iiFRjHelgaPKS9iRuyAvU1M9kwGmoT3Mt9wVVo8yIVpszEr2j1Hsl3BjUhjD_PKycnQk0P_SNxRjy8/s1600-h/Sarah+Paquette+-+Victorian+Necklace.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilc2TArPFW3PS9Mimh6IivV2ZGfQx8WBhVVi0EU99_9lJCti227661Oc2NC50T4iiFRjHelgaPKS9iRuyAvU1M9kwGmoT3Mt9wVVo8yIVpszEr2j1Hsl3BjUhjD_PKycnQk0P_SNxRjy8/s320/Sarah+Paquette+-+Victorian+Necklace.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338266336494534674" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I brought the necklace to my next jewelry class and my teacher was quite impressed. She took a photo of it for the student gallery section of her website. To be honest, I'm really happy with how it turned out. Dare I say, I love it! Can I say that?! Anyway, it came out pretty awesome...the little girl on the pendant looks a bit melancholy...I can certainly empathize.<br /><br />Oh yes! I nearly forgot to mention...there just had to be earrings that matched.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUknug_zmmI4a-D8bp0EBXFYmDtaBxZDqlfUgscKg84jeQ85S3TPA3x8sKmPgFkFWUhWVTMtsk-o71xzQyLQWhIZEdsslOr1CM6NVX3iOdHOpkOXpTEgE5fFkyr2StTCv6JKxOlDFsVI/s1600-h/n1179435938_30290895_6244004.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUknug_zmmI4a-D8bp0EBXFYmDtaBxZDqlfUgscKg84jeQ85S3TPA3x8sKmPgFkFWUhWVTMtsk-o71xzQyLQWhIZEdsslOr1CM6NVX3iOdHOpkOXpTEgE5fFkyr2StTCv6JKxOlDFsVI/s320/n1179435938_30290895_6244004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338267775152348562" border="0" /></a><br /><br />What, oh what, will I do next?Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-77738338090302109622009-05-21T08:53:00.001-04:002009-05-21T08:54:36.046-04:00Fragile. By Design<p align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/1920BROKEDOLL2.jpg" /></span></p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;">There they sat. A few were slightly slumped over while more of the same leaned against one another for gentle support. All aligned in pretty rows closely resembling 'Little Debbie' snack cakes haphazardly arranged on a party serving tray. Completely decorated from head to toe in attractive frill and flounce attire, evidently pristine from mushy food and playground romp deficiencies. Bodies full of pure fluff…their immaculate characteristics to match. Tiny dimpled hands grasped plastic teat decanters that delicately touched their pouty-lipped cherubic faces. Pairs of stubby chubby legs dangled freely from side to side. Bleached-white toothy smiles were fastened to artificial skin tones subtly colored in tan, brown, peach, and yellow blended hues. Blue and brown orbs reflected vacant stares seemingly resolute yet beseeching. Synthetic locks perfectly styled in braids, ringlets, or a straight-cut bob. Several had little silky strands scattered here and there on their roundish porcelain tops. A small number were as bald as the loss they dutifully personified...</span><br /><p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"></span> </p><br /><p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Wide-eyed and hopeful, a desperate pair longingly gazed at each sugary delight, one by one. Their heavy thoughts pounded inside tight brain confines. Their hearts, suspended helplessly within frail bony frames, beat wildly like a dark cavity packed with rampant fluttering bat wings. Which one would they desire to hold close and dear? Expectant mother fingers reached out to make safe contact with the dainty display. And with that impulsive, well-meaning motion ~ a flash...</span></p><p> </p><br /><i><span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She will be present. and I don't want to deal. I have to. and plaster a smile. When all I feel is anger and hurt. and I'm supposed to be celebratory. with infant insanity all over the fucking place. people rubbing the spherical bulging tummy. telling the tired warm vessel how eager they are. Can't wait to meet the precious cargo. Can't help but mind. I was supposed to be first in line. and here I am. distraught.and jealous.and guilty. and last. there will be classic attempts to speak with me. in private. about matters which should not be any concern. Having been absent through the entire grueling fruitless process. one becomes bitter. yet there is still a certain affinity to talk.to a little girl with crushed hopes and dreams. Kindreds do not do what she does. especially to people they regard. I am alone.removed.detached. continually empty. Tomorrow is supposed to be fresh. Yet there is always the same grave misconception. buried deep. depths of despair. regularly arising. like a blazing phoenix. from grimy ashes of doubt.</span></i><p> </p><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;">A single alabaster figurine suddenly fell from the rigid dusty shelf and shattered. The ground collision, as ephemeral as a longing dream, shaped the illusive irreparable damage. Pieces of ceramic humanoid components, broken beyond recognition, scattered across the checkered linoleum floor leaving a permanent cracked expression on her disfigured face. She vanished. He calmly pulled a straw broom from the shadowy closet and silently wept, sweeping her fragmented bits into a waste pile destined for an empty bin.</span><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif';font-size:undefined;" ><span style="font-family:Tahoma;color:#666666;">Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette</span></span></span></span></span></p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-66615595637623312432009-05-20T15:31:00.004-04:002009-05-20T15:42:10.673-04:00Baby Train<p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/268830836_9ad35963a0.jpg" /></p><br /><p> </p><br /><p>As a self-proclaimed writer, it is not easy to admit the following information. I am all out of words these days. Nothing a thesaurus or incessant contemplation can fix, I'm afraid.</p><p><span style="font-style: italic;">Mother's day came and went. I spent it with DH at the flea market and picked up a few trinkets. There were small children and mothers EVERYWHERE.</span><br /></p><p> With that being my current state, there still is this...this feeling inside that I'm dying to express. I found a short poem that seems to fit the circumstance. It helped to read it. a little. But the pain is still there and hopefully tomorrow will be fresh...with more captivating vocabulary.</p><br /><p> </p><br /><p><span style="font-family:Courier New,Courier,mono;">The journey from infertility to family,<br />someone once said,<br />is like taking a train ride;<br />Never knowing whether<br />you'll reach your desired destination.<br /><br />There are plenty of stops along the ride.<br />And each of the passengers<br />makes it's own decision<br />when its time to get off.<br /><br />Some never need to take the train.<br />Others ride it for a lifetime.<br />But whether you reach your destination or not,<br />pay attention to the journey.<br />If you will,<br />as painful as it is,<br />it may reward you in unexpected ways.<br /><br />New York, December 2000<br /><br />(c) 2000 Ronen Divon, All Rights Reserved.</span></p><br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/vintage_train.jpg" /></p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center">Hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive my lax posting.<br /></p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-51687629183771057632009-04-30T12:11:00.007-04:002009-04-30T15:31:02.291-04:00May I see your tongue?<p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/einstein-tongue-out.jpg" /></p><p align="center"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" >Kind of unnerving, isn't it? That particular question ~ someone asking to see your tongue. All of these thoughts sprint through your head like <i>'Did I remember to brush my teeth?'</i> or <i>'Should I close my eyes or keep them open'</i> or <i>'What does she see in there?' </i>and the ever-popular<i> 'Do I now say Ahhhhhhh?' </i>Unsealing your mouth, protruding that pinkish slimy muscle forward, is like blatantly opening a window to the core of your soul. It's completely personal and usually you'll refrain from doing so. It is certainly not uncommon for parents to reprimand silly rascals from sticking their tongue out at each other or at irksome unsuspecting adults. So, what gives here?</span></span></p><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" > </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" > </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Apparently, you can tell a lot about a person by the condition of their tongue. The one time that it's actually encouraged to stick your tongue out at somebody is in the acupuncturist's office. You see, according to ancient Chinese medicine, the tongue unveils a pattern of disharmony inside the body, revealing where your current state of ill health hails from and therefore, the acupuncturist can determine potential cures for those ailments with the appropriate care ~ perhaps using acupuncture, acupressure, herbal supplements, etc. The acupuncturist examines the tongue's shape and color ~ a normal tongue is pale red with a thin, white coating and a smooth shape whereas tongues showing disharmony may be pale, red or purple. Also, their coating may be thick, patchy, non-existent or yellow. Kind of gross, eh? Sure it can be…however, tongue diagnosis determines the method and length of individual holistic treatment. Who am I to balk at such an age-old practice?</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvhGe2e6r5KuXoyCONVVivsV4Snb-z76K5l513hlTsrPmaO9-wF9I8yNJbtby6lRYFnqrZm3o6hfG1vTNPsLnvakZ5E9k3TYKnSbf2zf0OM4mI0XVJQXwRTWIHVizKmkVZfqcxHXJGkA/s1600-h/Ladytongue.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvhGe2e6r5KuXoyCONVVivsV4Snb-z76K5l513hlTsrPmaO9-wF9I8yNJbtby6lRYFnqrZm3o6hfG1vTNPsLnvakZ5E9k3TYKnSbf2zf0OM4mI0XVJQXwRTWIHVizKmkVZfqcxHXJGkA/s400/Ladytongue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330568350719320066" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >Like clockwork, I am asked this very same question: <i>'May I see your tongue?' </i>and each and every time, I feel completely awkward. Identical thoughts, as were illustrated above, race inside my head while she is copiously jotting notes about my wet mouth piece. I full well understand the procedure, but it definitely doesn't make the situation any easier. Maybe if Mom didn't always roar when my </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >tongue blatantly exuded from its rightful toothy domain, I'd be more relaxed about it. OK. So maybe it just plain feels weird and I find myself producing exactly what I'm trying to alleviate ~ stress.</span><br /><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm not sure if the mental suffering outweighs the physical. While I squeeze my eyes tight and appear to lick the air, I begin to wonder if she really can see what troubles me. Can she perceive my </span></span></span></span></span><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:85%;">tension? Comprehend my utter anxiety? Visualize my inner pain? Is it possible to distinguish dilemma caused by life circumstance simply by tongue appearance alone? Can she tell that neither of my parents called on my birthday or that I found yet another rigid gray hair sticking straight up on my youngish 32 year old head? Can she enlighten me to the reason as to why my Western medical procedures never seem to work like they're supposed to? Does she witness what I live through and how I cope on a daily basis? Will I <span style="font-style: italic;">ever</span> conceive and carry the baby to term?</span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNt02E67lwlXNHOeqMxdkh-IZONrvrwcjruFK1P5JEevPZsSztBQymHhpXj21Vbp3kQngciq2mcuTzfUv3XwGAwKDFZcNfn9Y684FPx1hFqRgNE-7ug_EPJPeSDZwwXgqniZklnCA8uc/s1600-h/2854362257_254671b473.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNt02E67lwlXNHOeqMxdkh-IZONrvrwcjruFK1P5JEevPZsSztBQymHhpXj21Vbp3kQngciq2mcuTzfUv3XwGAwKDFZcNfn9Y684FPx1hFqRgNE-7ug_EPJPeSDZwwXgqniZklnCA8uc/s400/2854362257_254671b473.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330568711466944322" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:12;" ><span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" >I stick out my tongue each moment she asks me and with every extension, I sincerely hope she can foresee and potentially heal my internal wounds…and I'm not talking about the 3<sup>rd</sup> degree burn on the roof of my mouth from over zealously ingesting a steaming cup of cream of broccoli soup too soon. Ow! I open my mouth and bulge my illness gauging device far and wide. Please unearth what's wrong. Please help. Please be right. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:12;" ><span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" ></span></span> </span></span></span></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:12;" ><span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" ><i>AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!</i></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:12;" ><span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" ><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/23211803.jpg" /></span></span></span></span></div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-42631203479118620772009-04-29T08:44:00.016-04:002009-04-30T09:20:28.495-04:00The Egg Dance<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9HBOtN6NIWBPjPqIuTcBRLV04LnMS5QOPPSLypjZbgdocjIYcjCOfwkCGSGWkN0S5fA1DeIdpKdBxiR3Dnagl8F0Fl_y4JL6g3oKhxWga6sAl8Acy_xuD37CC9oneKpyvT6qmuFju1k/s1600-h/north-korea-chicken_996176i.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9HBOtN6NIWBPjPqIuTcBRLV04LnMS5QOPPSLypjZbgdocjIYcjCOfwkCGSGWkN0S5fA1DeIdpKdBxiR3Dnagl8F0Fl_y4JL6g3oKhxWga6sAl8Acy_xuD37CC9oneKpyvT6qmuFju1k/s400/north-korea-chicken_996176i.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330094151218383074" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Left foot in, right foot out, 1, 2,3. 1, 2, 3. Round and round. Now twwwwiiiirrrrllllllll. Skip and hop. Skip and hop. Now twwwwiiiirrrrllllllll. Chins up, girls! 1, 2,3. 1,2,3. Right, left, right.<br /><br />I have been diligently performing an egg dance for a few years now. It seems utterly ridiculous and complicated. It is. I hop, and skip, and jump. Twirling around and around. Always with a smile on my face despite inner turmoil that swirls within. I never wanted to be a subserviant chorus girl, yet I am one of sorts.<br /><br />OK. So why the hell am I going on a dissertation about egg dancing? I can't really answer that. An ovum epiphany popped into my head late last night (after a few congratulatory/mourning drinks) and it stuck there ~ lodged somewhere between brain matter and a matter of fact. Ugh. Lucid clarity at the bottom of the crystal glass. Hate that.<br /><br />I had my "final" b/w appointment yesterday. RE's nurse let out an obnoxious whoop for my -0- results. She told me I should feel quite relieved and in fact, have DH and I considered our IVF option while pondering what my hCG count was to be each looming week? I stammered. I could practically hear her ballpoint pen clicking against her desk while she waited for me to spit out my decision. I twirled. <span style="font-style: italic;">Should I be expected to jump at the chance of IVF? Instant baby, right? I </span><span style="font-style: italic;">should just skip right over to RE's office, plunk my naked ass down on the scratchy paper covered table, and be ready and willing to conceive my dream child ~ from warm petri dish to cold uterus.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Voila!</span> While I scrambled for words, she then suggested that perhaps I should have a consultation with RE. YES! Why I didn't suggest that idea first leaves me completely dumbfounded. I knew that I wanted a consult. I wanted to ask if I could now ingest prenatal vitamins? I prefer to have another HSG to determine whether my right tube is clogged or not ~ can I make that appointment now? Work is switching insurance companies so is it possible that I'm covered for another (3) IUI treatments?<br /><br />Oh balls. All of my questions, prepared and unprepared, simply dissipated into thin air. Not only am I a dancer, but also a friggin' magician. Fantastic.<br /><br />RE's nurse briskly brushed me off. I was transferred to the receptionist who pleasantly assisted me in scheduling another appointment with RE to discuss our options. Apparently, I should be able to move forward with IF treatments as soon as next month. Perfect. I practically started menstruating after I hung up the phone. No, really. AF reared her ugly head the same day I was told -0-. Coincidence? I think not. At least I feel skinnier today! It's a good day when I can comfortably fit into my favorite pair of jeans. I struggle with the extra weight from the IF meds. I hesitate to start over again. 1,2,3. 1,2,3. Hop and twwwwiiiirrrrllllllll.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">*******<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style=";font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;" ><span class="217320117-28042009"> I graduated from my wire jewelry techniques class on Monday night. Although her next class </span></span><span style=";font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;" ><span class="217320117-28042009">was deemed full, my teacher fit me into her wire sculpted cabochon class starting next week</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">. I'm absolutely thrilled! I have pics of my latest wire pieces ~ a spiral link necklace and bracelet set with red Chinese cinnabar beads. </span>I made the design up myself. It took me about 3 hours from start to completion....we had dinner plans and I was rushed towards the end, but I think it turned out OK. :)<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />My teacher asked if she could post photos of them on the student gallery section of her website. Of course, while blushing, I exclaimed YES!<br /><br />'Ere 'Tis:<br /></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh21w1Cn8_Cz0ywwPmtJERETpJEN3sFQG9sV95SFommwiuM_wS3Y11LeO0DKH4x_qgIXlPKm64VNIMQFCEQNKBLx68KdsQLcPTAWO3U4Y6KV0mmusOt3PORWTbbK4s9fUYnFd-qZDR05Mg/s1600-h/Sarah+Paquette+-+Spiral+Jewelry+Set.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh21w1Cn8_Cz0ywwPmtJERETpJEN3sFQG9sV95SFommwiuM_wS3Y11LeO0DKH4x_qgIXlPKm64VNIMQFCEQNKBLx68KdsQLcPTAWO3U4Y6KV0mmusOt3PORWTbbK4s9fUYnFd-qZDR05Mg/s400/Sarah+Paquette+-+Spiral+Jewelry+Set.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330107856409552306" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir3gDW8gpOXycYdoH50JbaoWQXIjvNXImKlYcpRBY4sDnkkqcUuK8POFTBuWop9aXm_ln2kjlGsOf9pOJvn78Ba6LHPjvJsWZhtedNu_YwhoM9U7mZ68tYtSf9vDek91vM45ORHMXL-5Y/s1600-h/Sarah+Paquette+-+Spiral+Bracelet.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir3gDW8gpOXycYdoH50JbaoWQXIjvNXImKlYcpRBY4sDnkkqcUuK8POFTBuWop9aXm_ln2kjlGsOf9pOJvn78Ba6LHPjvJsWZhtedNu_YwhoM9U7mZ68tYtSf9vDek91vM45ORHMXL-5Y/s320/Sarah+Paquette+-+Spiral+Bracelet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330108252510318562" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></div></div></div></div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-35237281703737171302009-04-14T15:47:00.008-04:002009-04-14T16:28:24.963-04:00Egg-Cellent!<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2h8SSHTvPJpStncU5IJiNJqwmOH_Jl35_ojJUVYIpcT2bMCfq7AQiojbMyXnkjWPIuLiv1btIMk9ZtV5a-vfrsKqw0r1i0oh_lcxEZOTJW86-vLCNlNfGMkxHRhg9NL5ClTo1dXgG0M/s1600-h/woman_screaming1.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324637889542617938" style="WIDTH: 181px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2h8SSHTvPJpStncU5IJiNJqwmOH_Jl35_ojJUVYIpcT2bMCfq7AQiojbMyXnkjWPIuLiv1btIMk9ZtV5a-vfrsKqw0r1i0oh_lcxEZOTJW86-vLCNlNfGMkxHRhg9NL5ClTo1dXgG0M/s320/woman_screaming1.gif" border="0" /></a></p>My husband and I made a bet last night. We were trying to guess how low my hCG would be after today's b/w...and decided to make a game out of it. DH predicted 47. I dared to say 58. DH won the bet. My results were 45. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that he was right! Going by the track record, I was convinced that I'd be damn lucky if it reached 58 or below compared to last week's results of 105. Well, although I am sad that I don't get my choice of something from Etsy.com, it's fine by me that DH can pick an album from DustyGroove.com. As it happens, we're both vinyl-o-philes. LOL!<br /><br /><em>In case you're wondering, it's mortgage week and we curb any frivolous spending during that time. Today, we make an exception!</em><br /><br />So, now I can rest assured that the hCG will completely dissipate in a timely fashion. I'm not required to go for more b/w until 4/28. By then, it should be down to 0, and Que Sera, Sarah can relax and enjoy the summer without having to worry about her empty womb.<br /><br /><em>*deep sigh of relief*</em>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-23505468233815265502009-04-10T11:31:00.011-04:002009-04-29T09:45:19.733-04:00Eggs: To Dye For<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oYXi9hQmxOd-D58z7xtYVILdyc_y6iaOAaWZ0fryIH0_bmKepDf8JCYFpDRwUyTWj9xvdh-yd5jIPtKu4V42iIYDvUy8clCFQy-HiesrRHTgDVnb_WPfSbDpF4uIhJBv_Zf8KOEM8sw/s1600-h/easter_v003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323086628509710994" style="width: 254px; cursor: pointer; height: 400px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oYXi9hQmxOd-D58z7xtYVILdyc_y6iaOAaWZ0fryIH0_bmKepDf8JCYFpDRwUyTWj9xvdh-yd5jIPtKu4V42iIYDvUy8clCFQy-HiesrRHTgDVnb_WPfSbDpF4uIhJBv_Zf8KOEM8sw/s400/easter_v003.jpg" border="0" /></a><span id="formatbar_Buttons" style="display: block;"><span onmouseup="" class="on down" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 11);ButtonMouseDown(this);" id="formatbar_JustifyCenter" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" title="Align Center" style="display: block;" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);"><img class="gl_align_center" alt="Align Center" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" border="0" /></span></span></div><br />Well, the season of colored eggs is upon us. I plan to make wire jewelry with the new beads and supplies I plan to purchase today... Here is an example of my very 1st jewelry-making attempt ~ Solderless Copper Flower Chain Bracelet with Scroll clasp:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJHNHv0Ci0OPLvlkrX4WwghbvavasAi9OmPrmYY6lV6FB1QTBgEPndd_KtqFg4Cpig57vdteoXZFrGHZNX-2OsCxPz9ibDBWXPHYjsXCWwa-L9l_TA-wLfE4Q6MrsUHfQa2wChtSVq9w/s1600-h/Copper+Bracelet.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323087383581780162" style="width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 273px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJHNHv0Ci0OPLvlkrX4WwghbvavasAi9OmPrmYY6lV6FB1QTBgEPndd_KtqFg4Cpig57vdteoXZFrGHZNX-2OsCxPz9ibDBWXPHYjsXCWwa-L9l_TA-wLfE4Q6MrsUHfQa2wChtSVq9w/s320/Copper+Bracelet.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />As of Tuesday, my hCG level is still in the friggin' 100s ~ 105 to be exact. I'm so frustrated and upset that this horrid diagnosis has been lingering as long as it has...as if to say, <span style="font-style: italic;">"HEY YOU, REMEMBER ME??!!"</span> Oh yes, I remember. Clear as colorless crystal. In my estimation, it will be at least another 2 weeks before it reaches 0. Then, I may start taking prenatal vitamins again and get my life back on track. DH and I decided to wait at least 3 months before TTC again. I need the time away from my hollow uterus. Beading is taking precedence right now...and I couldn't be more enthused!<br /><br />Happy Easter, everyone!Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-42622543669609330052009-04-05T11:57:00.001-04:002009-04-05T12:04:53.968-04:001-8-9 ... was my number...whats my number now?<div><em>Stick it up, mister!</em></div><br /><div><em>Hear what I say, sir, yeah...</em></div><br /><div><em>Get your hands in the air, sir!</em></div><br /><div><em>And you will get no hurt, mister, no no no</em></div><br /><div><em></em> </div><br /><div><em>I said yeah </em></div><br /><div><em>What did I say?</em></div><br /><div><em>Don't you hear? </em><em>I said yeah (yeah yeah)</em></div><br /><div><em>Listen to what I say (what I say)</em></div><br /><div><em></em> </div><br /><div><em>Do you believe I would take something with me</em></div><br /><div><em>And give it to the police man?</em></div><br /><div><em>I wouldn't do that, now listen to me one more time</em></div><br /><div><em>I wouldn't do that</em></div><br /><div><em></em> </div><br /><div><em>And if I do that, I would say "sir, put the charge on me"</em></div><br /><div><em>I wouldn't do that</em></div><br /><div><em>No, I wouldn't do that</em></div><br /><div><em></em> </div><br /><div><em>I'm not a fool to hurt myself</em></div><br /><div><em>So I was innocent of what they done to me</em></div><br /><div><em>They was wrong</em></div><br /><div><em>Listen to me, they were wrong</em></div><br /><div><em></em> </div><br /><div><em>Give it to me one time</em></div><br /><div><em>Give it to me two time</em></div><br /><div><em>Give it to me three time</em></div><br /><div><em>Give it to me four time</em></div><br /><div><em></em> </div><br /><div><em>54 46 was my number</em></div><br /><div><em>Right now, someone else has that number </em></div><br /><div> </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>Sorry. Had Toots and the Maytals in my head for some weird reason. </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>So. That's the current digits as of Tuesday. 1-8-9. RE's nurse told me my hCG levels are still going down, then she let out a little 'Yayyyyyy'. I chuckled. sorta. Then proceeded to make another hCG appt for the following Tuesday. At this rate, this b/w routine feels like it will never end.<br /></div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>I went to a healing/prayer circle last Sunday night. A good friend of mine suggested I accompany her for a bit of "re-charging" and I'll admit, I was quite curious. There were (7) women and (1) man in attendance...when the niceities finally died down and we got right down to business or shall I say, silent prayer, my mind began to wander once more to that far-off distant place...I envisioned running water, lush plantlife, and blue sky. Blue, Blue, Blue. Green, Green, Green. What does it mean? We bowed our heads and lifted our spirits to the high heavens ~ praying for ourselves, our loved ones, and for peace. Peace of mind. OK, I really don't know what the other folks prayed for ~ but I know that I felt settled in that moment of silent communion.<br /><br />I really should be writing more often; however, I've been under the weather and drained. My body is tired and I suppose my mind is too. Random thoughts shooting and shifting this way and that way. I suppress the baby ideas way down deep as if they never existed. Probably not the best way to cope...but at this point in time, it's all about self-preservation.<br /><br />I forgot to mention... when the healing circle came to a close and I was stuffing my arms into my coat, a kindly woman walked up to me, gave me a hug and told me that she felt a little girl in my presence. Apparently, this woman "feels" things about certain people. I smiled, turned, and closed the door behind me.<br /><br /></div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-17620882249416519772009-03-28T11:21:00.002-04:002009-03-29T10:23:09.019-04:00Insanity: A Memoir.<p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:7;" ></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:7;" ><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/UrbanKooks.jpg" /></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:7;" ></span> </p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:78%;" >Insanity</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:85%;" >Highly Overrated,</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:100%;" >Simply Disturbing.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:130%;" >The Ultimate Revolution!</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:180%;" >Letting Go.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:78%;" >Out of my mind.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:85%;" >Unfeigned Enlightenment.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:100%;" >Shooby Do Wop Wop Shooby Do.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:130%;" >Endless Memories,</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:180%;" >Sporadic Thoughts.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:78%;" >Plumb Tuckered Out,</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:85%;" >Amusing Label.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:100%;" >I am the Walrus Goo Goo G'Joob.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=";font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:130%;" >Silent Struggle.</span><span style=";font-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:130%;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p align="center"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:180%;" >Back To Bed.</span></p> <p align="center"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:18;" ></span> </p> <p align="center"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:'Arial','sans-serif';font-size:18;" ><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style=";font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" ><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:'Calibri','sans-serif';font-size:10;" ><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:Tahoma;" >C<span style="font-size:78%;">opyright ©2007 Sarah B. Paquette</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-91278562934189428892009-03-24T16:13:00.012-04:002009-03-25T08:28:04.770-04:00How to Shell a Hard-Cooked Egg<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90l__5-EVwkNv5F9pt2OaECABuWvAZXvc2eUP3zaLb6PLibkB8WE9AIpqLkXg0KDHu80KDzCdTvQDcaBmAqxvt-GeRisYMsfidqH9KI-HVEJg7eG7iMw4cS_ylQNhx0w1u92-4yADCf0/s1600-h/3315323260_10e64c7541.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316850109718972514" style="WIDTH: 242px; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90l__5-EVwkNv5F9pt2OaECABuWvAZXvc2eUP3zaLb6PLibkB8WE9AIpqLkXg0KDHu80KDzCdTvQDcaBmAqxvt-GeRisYMsfidqH9KI-HVEJg7eG7iMw4cS_ylQNhx0w1u92-4yADCf0/s400/3315323260_10e64c7541.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /><br /><br />B/w was scheduled for early morning yesterday to determine whether I was to get surgery today. Lucky for me, the hCG went back down to 218. No surgery! Hoorah!...or is it?!<br /><br />I'll be the first to admit, I'm sick and tired of all of the travel as well as suspense involved with my reproductive system these days. I was totally resigned to losing my tube after everything I've been through, drove back and forth, back and forth, back and forth from the RE's office (an hour away from work), was told I may lose the tube even after 2 doses of the demon methotrexate, was then told that it wasn't necessary ~ the injections worked, then was told I may be losing it anyway because my hCG levels were back up again, now am told I'm not going to need lap surgery afterall. Egads!~<br /><br />I really need to step away from all of this IF stuff for a while. I'll feel much better about starting over after a much needed break. My body is starting to feel back to normal ~ I can actually fit into my jeans! My intestines are still all screwed up, but overall, I feel pretty good. I'd like to start taking vitamins again...it's getting warmer outside and that means my routine 4 mile walk with Skoola Fazoola, my sweet 4-legged, will be well underway soon. </p><p>I attended my first wire jewelry techniques class last night and I absolutely loved it! My thumb only bled a little while twisting 16 gauge copper wire. :) Bought myself some trusty pliers and sparkly glass beads on sale today and am anxious to start making beautiful wearable art. I think it's a lovely way to take my mind off my uterus. I'm so happy it's spring...the season of colored eggs is upon us ~ oh wait...let's change the subject, please.</p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-73371498948432097692009-03-19T10:04:00.010-04:002009-03-19T10:53:39.287-04:00Going to Great Pains<strong>Protocol for Medical treatment (Methotrexate) of Ectopic Pregnancy. Written by The Royal Oldham Hospital. Revised March 2001</strong>
<br /><strong></strong>
<br /></strong><strong>Advantages:</strong>
<br />Good success rates (More than 90%) in appropriately selected cases
<br />Comparable to conservative surgery in terms of subsequent fertility
<br />General anaesthetic avoided
<br />
<br /><strong>Disadvantages:</strong>
<br />Risk of toxicity: nausea, stomatitis, bone marrow suppression, pneumonitis, elevated liver enzymes
<br />Repeated visits to ensure resolution of pregnancy
<br />
<br /><strong>Selection criteria:</strong>
<br />Clinically stable
<br />Able and willing to attend for follow-up scans and blood tests
<br />Early unruptured ectopic pregnancy
<br />Under 8 weeks gestation
<br />No free fluid on ultrasound scan
<br />Ectopic sac <3cm>
<br />
<br /><strong>Management:
<br /></strong></strong>Discuss with consultant
<br />Counsel patient, obtain consent and give information on medical treatment of ectopic pregnancy
<br />Blood tests:
<br />FBC,
<br />Group & save serum,
<br />U& E,
<br />LFT
<br />hCG
<br />Prescribe a single dose of intramuscular Methotrexate 50 (fifty) mg
<br />(if weight is <50kg, prescribe 1mg/kg)
<br />
<br /><strong>Discharge with following advice:</strong>
<br />Avoid sexual intercourse
<br />Avoid alcohol
<br />Avoid folic acid
<br />Ectopic may rupture.
<br />To come back in immediately if feeling dizzy or exacerbated abdominal pain Avoid conception for 3 months
<br />
<br /><strong>Follow-up:</strong></strong>
<br />Twice weekly hCG until falling, then weekly until <10iu/1
<br />If hCG not falling, request ultrasound scan If no significant fall in hCG after 7 days, then consider either repeat methotrexate or surgical treatment (discuss with patient)
<br />
<br />Note: hCG may fall slowly. Median time to resolution is 1 month Discuss contraception
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />******************************************
<br />
<br /><div align="left">I was at work when I got the call yesterday from RE's nurse that my b/w results came back surprising (Note: RE hasn't seen this happen before). My hCG levels rose from 239 last week to 330 yesterday. Went back to RE for u/s which showed a significant change in the size of the cyst and halo of fluid ~ they were both barely noticeable. As RE put it, <em>"don't want to put the cart before the horse",</em> so I was advised to come back on Monday for more b/w and if the levels are still steadily increasing, I'm to get laparoscopic surgery to remove my right fallopian tube on Thursday (3/26).</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Not to sound gruesome, but I have constipation...it has only been worse since I was injected the 2nd time with the demon Methotrexate a few weeks ago. Last night, when I went to the bathroom to pee before bed, my lower body was in total distress. I never felt it coming and then all of a sudden, I was suffering...hardcore. I turned white as a ghost and almost fainted a few times from the unbearable torture in my abdomen...not necessarily from my intestines, but the muscles too. I've never felt anything so excruciating in my life. I've had horrid constipation symptoms before, this fuckin' hurt a million times more. I could barely lift myself from the toilet for fear that the pain would get worse, laid my exhausted body on the bed, and writhed in agony. My husband totally freaked out ~ kept asking me if I should go to the hospital. All I wanted to do was sleep. I took some extra-strength tylenol, my husband rubbed my head, and I felt my body relax. Thankfully, the pain subsided enough that I was able to sleep through the night.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">My reason for writing about this incident is that I've really been OK for the last 2 weeks. I've been feeling healthier except for the constipation on and off, and was starting to feel like my life was getting back on track. Then, I get the phone call at work yesterday that my hCG is rising, feel my heart skip a beat, anticipate surgery that day, am told to wait until Monday to determine the outcome, and then writhe in pain that evening. Coincidence? I think not.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">It's official. god hates me.</div><div align="left"></div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-5178799675834137792009-03-14T12:17:00.004-04:002009-03-14T12:29:33.638-04:00A Moment to Myself<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvvaB2Id8UYOq2b72Gcq2dW5D5Jgl6yuUeMp19Z2GTlzuXBtw0Qgo1CrUJHqaUF-ZoWFFEyCNp629swfaE96YEmbQ1yKkgoWaBwtbuwxgOLotVAogciR69iIqC_jn2AjtcTGJg4qM3mw/s1600-h/Art-of-Silent-Thought.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvvaB2Id8UYOq2b72Gcq2dW5D5Jgl6yuUeMp19Z2GTlzuXBtw0Qgo1CrUJHqaUF-ZoWFFEyCNp629swfaE96YEmbQ1yKkgoWaBwtbuwxgOLotVAogciR69iIqC_jn2AjtcTGJg4qM3mw/s400/Art-of-Silent-Thought.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313078640927417218" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />This was the very first art card I ever made. At the time, I was going through relentless mental anxiety ~ IF related, of course. Not sure if it was the clomid or doubts. Indubitably, I needed a way to expel what was seething inside. Collage art paved the way to alleviation. I've been skipping down its creative path ever since.Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-42710168363311266182009-03-13T13:43:00.006-04:002009-04-30T12:14:23.686-04:00OnE mOnTH SuPpLy<p align="center">EAST MEETS WEST: THE INFERTILITY CURE?</p><br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/oNEdAYsUPPLY-blog.jpg" /></p><br /><p align="center"><u><span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">CHINESE PREPARED HERBS - TO </span><span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">NOURISH BI & YIN</span></u></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">TAO HONG SI WU TANG WAN (24 PILLS 2X DAY) UNTIL DAY 11</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">ESSENTIAL YANG (3 PILLS 2X DAY) - DAYS 12-17</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">FREE & EASY WANDERER PLUS (3 PILLS 2X DAY) - DAY 18 TO PERIOD OR POSITIVE PREGNANCY</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></p><br /><p align="center"><u><span style="font-family:Arial;">SUPPLEMENTS</span></u></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">MULTI VITAMIN WITH IRON AND CALCIUM (1 PILL 1X DAY) - ONE TABLET DAILY WITH A MEAL</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">FOLIC ACID 800 MCG - (1 PILL 1X DAY) - ONE TABLET DAILY WITH FOOD</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><u>SELECTIVE ESTROGEN RECEPTOR MODULATORS</u></span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">CLOMIPHENE CITRATE (2 PILLS 1X DAY) - TAKE 2 TABLETS BY MOUTH ON DAYS 5-9 OF CYCLE</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">NOVAREL INJECTION - MUST BE ADMINISTERED BY PHYSICIAN - INJECT SOLUTION (DO NOT SHAKE) IN UPPER THIGH/BUTTOCKS ON DAY 12 OF CYCLE</span></p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">*******</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >The photograph illustrated above (of my typical daily IF prescription amount) was taken shortly after I swallowed my 2nd dose of Chinese Herbs suggested by my acupuncturist. At that time, I had been seeking medicated fertility treatment for 6 months ~ going to acupuncture 1x week for 3 of those months. My herbal concoction changed twice... each prescribed amount involved more herbs and less hope.</span><br /></p><p align="left"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >Before I decided to take the photograph, I stood in the kitchen, hovered over the counter, meticulously counting 24 tiny round black beads that were strangely attracted to each other due to the static electricity produced by my fleshy finger on the crisp paper towel, and an obscure gauzy veil lifted from sight. It all became quite clear...</span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" ><em>HOW MUCH I cherish my baby even before he/she is born.</em></span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >Woah.</span></p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-34283167021498844592009-03-11T13:47:00.002-04:002009-03-11T14:09:49.836-04:00Oh, Bloody HellThe nurse just called...my b/w results came back ~ the hCG levels dropped to 239. More b/w scheduled for next Wednesday (3/18). This is the routine for the next few weeks until the hCG reaches 5. At this rate, we're looking at the end of March to early April for my hCG to completely disappear. Then, I must wait (2) consecutive menstrual cycles to ensure that the demon Methotrexate is completely out of my system and will not affect a potential fetus. June seems sooooooo far away at this point.<br /><br />In the meantime, I am faced with a decision to continue on an IUI journey and hope for the best... basically risking my chance for another ectopic... OR begin IVF treatment and bypass my tubes altogether. Dependent upon an HSG test, to show whether my right tube is still open, the doctor is leaving it up to us to decide how to proceed. IVF is much more invasive than I ever cared to experience.<br /><br />Oh, what to do!Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-41159840437967786662009-03-10T10:42:00.002-04:002009-03-11T13:30:43.966-04:00Egg Epistle<p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/babyfamily.jpg" /></p><br /><p align="center"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-size:11;"><?XML:NAMESPACE PREFIX = O /><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">6/25/08</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Dear Egg,<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">The doctor says that you are a delicious size comparable to a grape. What wonderful news to hear! I've been doing everything expected of me, you know. Steering away from my dark java morning addiction, practicing yoga at least once a week, meditating often, swallowing hormone pills on time, taking my temperature when I first awake from a sound sleep, resisting alcoholic beverages when I want them most, remembering to take Chinese herbal supplements twice per day, spending quality time with couples who have small children, eating wholesome foods and drinking room temperature water, as well as progressively reading the natural fertility guide books I was recommended by an expert.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">I don't know, Egg. I'm not feeling so great today. The cramping becomes unbearable; the persistent anxiety gets to be too much. I blame myself. Perhaps I should have sought treatment a long time ago. Maybe it's too late - things can't be remedied. Times like these, I feel like a empty vessel becoming chilled to the core when determined attempts to house and nourish something as warm and tender as you go unnoticed and ignored. Who would want to snuggle inside an icy igloo when the alternative is affectionate bliss? Life's hands can be so cold. Mine are no exception. My attitude turns frosty while my heart radiates motherly warmth.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">I know you're there, Egg. You are forever in my thoughts and silent prayers. I'm making changes, keeping positive, although some days are better than others. Can you sense when I stretch my tired limbs in quiet isolation? Are you satisfied that I am going to great efforts to ensure your protected survival?</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Can you hear me, Egg? I want you to feel cherished. I am grateful for your existence. Are you thankful for mine? This ovulation process has been so grueling, Egg. There are days I don't think I'm strong enough to endure. I tense up at the slightest pang of discomfort. I cry alone. Do you experience my inner pain as well?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Why are some selected to bear ripe human fruit without their knowledge or consent whilst others contemplate and manipulate their delicate production and still remain solitary? Why does something seemingly so easy have to be so difficult? You appear to be a figment of my vivid imagination only to disappear when your presence is revealed to others. Everyone I know goes away in the end. Why should you be any different?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Dear Egg. I will continue to do what I'm supposed to do. Set my troubled mind at ease as the internal anguish is intolerable. Release. Find what you seek. Endure.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Please don't grieve for me, Egg. This too shall pass.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Dutifully Yours,<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Mom?<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/comidacucharasfoodhuevohumorplato-8.jpg" /></p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-37331087350849666662009-03-06T12:22:00.014-05:002009-03-11T13:41:07.893-04:00Jesus Christ, Leave Me Alone!<a href="http://flickr.com/photos/65859642@N00/1527013657/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309762536545869650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrTFoa_PUJkRe7efUV6MMa8FC8f4XX3Of7_KXlpfJp_ZAqX2DbJN5pF_MG40JCwZtSKEyTnXdsEcotHMsfBnBy3rC65A78vd4dTWDd1nGkDr01NlzfWzFhKSTzpVgmuNldiSAuIvjfIk/s400/1527013657_1fcaacae70.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left">Let me start out by saying that I am not here to offend anyone. I honestly believe everyone has a right to their individual beliefs and should be allowed to express them freely and without discrimination. However, just as I do not press my beliefs on people, I would appreciate that others follow suit. With that being said, I just want to clearly express that I do not believe in a god. I also believe that the bible should not be taken in a literal context but merely as a collection of intelligent fiction that blends legend with historical accounts and is meant to be symbolic literature taken with a grain of salt. Allow me to clarify ~ These opinions do not make me an evil human being.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">When I was growing up, my parents brought me to church on countless Sundays. I was baptized, went to parochial school from grade school through high school, took communion, was confirmed, confessed my sins, and remained good friends with a nun who taught me in second grade. I have never believed in god. As much as I try to wrap my head around the concept, it all just seems so preposterous a notion to me. I am not comfortable praying to an invisible entity. I do not believe that kneeling down, clasping my hands, bowing my head, and pleading to the "guy in the sky" for forgiveness will ever bring me closer to bearing a child. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I am the oldest of 4 children and grew up in a discordant household. My parents' belief in god did not bring peace to my family nor did it miraculously cure the extreme disharmony that threatened to destroy it. I lived very fearful of my father and suspicious of my mother. One mild example, when we arrived home from church, all hell would break loose. My father demanded a hot breakfast, my mother complained that she didn't feel like cooking for 6 people. They would vociferously yell at each other...the kids would run and hide. This Sunday routine lasted for years and I eventually grew to hate anything that had to do with church. I'll refrain from writing about the abuse.<br /></div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Long story short, my parents divorced after 25 years of marriage. My father and I were estranged for almost 8 years before I decided to invite him to my wedding celebration. I wouldn't say that our relationship has been repaired in any way...Now that I'm older, I've just learned how to cope with his antics a lot better. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">*sigh*</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I did eventually call my mother about the ectopic. She said some really poignant things. I felt relieved that I spilled my guts. I did not want to call Dad. I never feel like he listens and in all honesty, I was fearful of what he would say. He is a fire-and-brimstone christian and knows I'm an atheist...at least, he should. I told him numerous times that I do not believe in his god. SO. I took the easy way...and sent him an e-mail.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center">*************************************</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em>My abridged letter to Dad:</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Sorry that I haven't been able to keep in better touch. I've been seriously ill and just this week am trying to get back on track again. I missed 6 days of work over the course of February...not to mention the multiple excursions to the hospital and back and then trying to work in between. It has been a real eye opener and I'm happy to be well again! </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">DH mentioned that he told you that we are trying to conceive. As fate would have it, we are having trouble. We realized something was wrong and went to a specialist last January 2008 only to be misdiagnosed and have to go to another doctor about and hour away from work. Anyway, long story short, I got pregnant last month for the first time ~ however, it ended up being ectopic (the baby was growing in my right fallopian tube) and I had to have 4 injections of chemotherapy to resolve the issue. This has been an extremely emotional as well as physically trying time for me. I'm extremely lucky to be in good hands...some women die from ectopics. DH has been a wonderful support too. I feel much better, although I'm not out of the woods just yet. You take care and I'll be keeping in touch. </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Love,</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Sarah</span><br /></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em>This was his entire response:</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">My dear, Sarah -<br /><br />I am so sorry to hear of your illness, and your disappointing period of conception. I am constantly praying for both of you to receive your hearts desires. I am not sure of how close you both are to believing in, and staying in touch with God, but I know He is there for those who trust in Him, and He will be there for them in times of need. I hope you turn to Jesus as your Savior, pray to Him for help, and then be patient to receive His blessings.<br />Sarah, I know it works, because I have been asking for God's help all of my life, when my life wasn't going in the right direction, and He has always been there for me. My life has always been up and down like everyone else, but in the end I have always come out on top again with His help, and all I did was ask for His help.<br />How you believe, and what you believe in is entirely left up to us as individuals, but if we truly want our lives to begin to head in a more positive, and pleasant direction, we have to believe it will, and make the necessary changes in our way of thinking, and put your Faith in the Truth, which is God's written Word.<br />I know, it's difficult to be a good follower of the true God in today's world, because the world has become so deceitful and immoralistic. We all have to live in the world, but we don't have to be of the world. We must remain the ones who believe, and stay the true believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, and live good, righteous lives in His honor. We will all then benefit through His Grace, and receive His Peace, Love, and Blessings.<br />A child born to a mother, and father, and husband and wife is the greatest gift of all from our Father God in Heaven, because only God can create this human life. We will continue to pray for both of you, and both of you continue to pray, and have Faith, and patience for your blessing to come, and it most certainly will. God will bless both of you, that's a reality.<br /><br />Love, Dad<br /><br /><br /><br />**************************************<br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">All I wanted to read/hear was that he was there for me if I needed anything. Perhaps we could make arrangements for a visit and talk about what happened. God forbid, during these difficult times, he should take a stand as my father and really BE a father. He never was a good example. Why should anything change now?<br /></div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I feel incredibly isolated when it comes to my immediate family. As I've mentioned before, I am close to my middle sister. We keep in touch pretty regularly and DH and I spend the nights there when we visit PA. I'm very grateful for our relationship...we survived plenty of shit growing up; however, I would like to feel some sort of pleasant connection with my parents...just once. I wish they would call me on their own. I wish they were capable when I need them most. I wish their god told them to help me. I implore them to listen for I'm going through hell.<br /></div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Thee end. </div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-33181700580263505432009-03-04T17:47:00.001-05:002009-03-07T10:27:38.525-05:00Scrappin'...Honestly!<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJp1omikW1wW_LJG1PTzmLUoOaZ3f6rVB6Vwq54nLvDbXdGlBt0-7X_1ywQmWJA5fWlJLtISXlYP-Q7N84PqC8jCLIacviDO27MnUHncE_tSg_oRk7LW35EXXzgDEAlwVtBy0Sk1X1rsI/s1600-h/00002z58.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309429725311731202" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 215px; height: 208px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJp1omikW1wW_LJG1PTzmLUoOaZ3f6rVB6Vwq54nLvDbXdGlBt0-7X_1ywQmWJA5fWlJLtISXlYP-Q7N84PqC8jCLIacviDO27MnUHncE_tSg_oRk7LW35EXXzgDEAlwVtBy0Sk1X1rsI/s320/00002z58.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br />I was "tagged" with the Honest Scrap award by my sweet <a href="http://chroniclesofaniffashionista.blogspot.com/2009/02/10-scraps-about-me.html">Fashionably Infertile</a> e-friend on Thursday. I am honoured and happy to oblige.<br /><br /><strong>'Ere 'Tis The Rules:</strong><br /><br />1) Choose a minimum of (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.<br /><br />2) Show the (7) winners names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with "Honest Scrap." Well, there's no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.<br /><br />3) List at least (10) honest things about yourself. <em>I chose to list (25)...just because.</em><br /><br /><br /><strong>'Ere 'Tis My Scraps:</strong><br />1. I must sleep in pitch black silence with a blanket over my shoulder.<br /><br />2. I have this recurring dream since childhood that a troll/gremlin/scary black thing that I can’t really see hides under the bed and sloooooowly pulls my covers off. Sometimes I get pissed off and brave and try to catch the little bastard...to no avail.<br /><br />3. I’ve loved Tori Amos since high school, especially when the Little Earthquakes album came out in 1992, but not so much since she got uberly popular. When an artist becomes mainstream, I usually ditch ’em.<br /><br />4. There is a dark mole on the side of my nose tip since birth. Sometimes I have a tendency to stare at it in the mirror...secretly wishing it would just fall off already.<br /><br />5. I lack patience...specifically when it comes to ignorant people.<br /><br />6. To me, dish washing is the ultimate housekeeping curse.<br /><br />7. I am obsessed with all things Victorian, especially paper ephemera and photographs. My collection has only gotten larger since getting a better paying job and a husband who thinks I’m cool and weird, not necessarily in that order...<br /><br />8. I’m a granola-stalkin’ treehugger who strongly supports and encourages the fair trade movement; however, I just can’t get enough of the Anthropologie clothing store and I hesitate to discover what their ethical policies are for fear that I will never be able to set foot in one again.<br /><br />9. I love bats and have wanted to study them since Mom bought me the Wildlife Treasury cards when I was 8. Is there such a thing as a Batologist?<br /><br />10. I’m an extreme movie critic through and through. My husband will attest to the fact that I compulsively know actor and actresses by only seeing/hearing them in a film once AND I can usually spot a mistake without any help. It makes for an interesting movie night.<br /><br />11. My husband is my best friend in the whole wide world.<br /><br />12. I've always felt a certain affinity towards the Dodo.<br /><br />13. I once wrote a letter to an egg. Mine.<br /><br />14. I dye my hair pink and feel sheer elation when out of the corner of my eye, I see pinkish strands glisten in the sunlight.<br /><br />15. I secretly want to sing in a Ska band.<br /><br />16. I love to wear knee-high boots and long stripe socks.<br /><br />17. I share a birthday with Frida Kahlo, the 14th Dalai Lama, and George W. Bush.<br /><br />18. I am an eco-preneur who owns (2) earth-conscious websites ~ moondropclothiers.com and theconsciouschild.com .<br /><br />19. (5) places I MUST visit before I die: Belgium, England, New Zealand, Tibet, and France.<br /><br />20. My Blog. An electronic substitute for a hand-written journal...mainly because I'm too lazy to use a pen.<br /><br />21. I wear French parfum everyday.<br /><br />22. I really enjoy weird obscure surrealist art and film.<br /><br />23. I wish my sister lived closer.<br /><br />24. I am a collage art enthusiast and love to discover little stories within them. I've only just started to make my own...bringing my own little stories to life.<br /><br />25. I have a large tattoo on my upper left arm of a lotus flower and ocean waves. Now that work proclaimed we are still receiving a bonus this year despite the economic downturn, I plan to elaborate on it...thinking a splashing koi will complete my half sleeve quite nicely.<br /><br /><br />So. I now bestow the Honest Scrap award to:<br /><br /><a href="http://existentialdrama.blogspot.com/">A Monkey Girl's Existential Drama</a><br /><br /><a href="http://glimmeringprize.blogspot.com/">The Glimmering Prize</a><br /><br /><a href="http://hopespringsinfertile.blogspot.com/">Hope Springs Infertile</a><br /><br /><a href="http://infertilityreality.blogspot.com/">Infertility Reality</a><br /><br /><a href="http://seaweedandgardenias.blogspot.com/">Seaweed and Gardenias</a><br /><br /><a href="http://sugarmagnoliacreations.blogspot.com/">Sugar Magnolia Creations</a><br /><br /><a href="http://damnthatstork.blogspot.com/">Who Shot My Stork?</a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">**********************************************</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">My b/w results came back this afternoon and I'm happy to report the hCG levels have now dropped to 394. I'm scheduled for more b/w next Wednesday. <em>(This will be the routine for the next few weeks until the hCG is 5.)</em> My sister-in-law is in town on Saturday and spending the night at our house. I plan to consume a frosty adult beverage this weekend...even if it kills me.</div>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-50959273773083220502009-03-01T17:36:00.016-05:002009-03-04T20:09:16.247-05:00Time for Smiles...yes, Indeed!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/?action=view&current=Timeforsmiles.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/Timeforsmiles.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a></div><br />This small collage was finished a few weeks ago...or so I thought. I was trying out a new image transfer technique using packing tape and a bowl of water and chose the "Alice crowned as Queen Alice puts on the crown" image from one of Tenniel's Alice in Wonderland illustrations. I printed the small image on recycled copy paper, placed packing tape over top, cut around the image, flipped it over, then rubbed really hard with a bone folder to get the ink to stick to the tape. It was advised that I then dip the taped image into a bowl of warm water and let sit for 15 minutes. While the image is wet, rub and rub the paper into little pieces very carefully until it comes apart from the tape. The result is a transparent tape image to place on your collage. Voila! Wrong. I repeated those exact methods 3 times before I got REALLY frustrated. The piece of paper, in its entirety (not bits of pulp), came apart from the tape and sank to the bottom of the bowl. <span style="font-style: italic;">I believe my problem was I was using the wrong type of image. I needed a magazine scrap, a photo, etc. There just wasn't enough ink from the inkjet printer to stick to the tape.</span><br /><br />The soggy paper image faintly turned muddy green from being immersed in water and when it dried out, I really liked the effect. What could I do with it? I was going to throw away my mistake. Then it occured to me. This recent collage came to mind. A crowned Alice fit perfectly seated in the corner with her "imaginary friends", who were also wearing playful hats. I added the tiny clock to fit its "time" theme and to match Alice and her issue with being late...or was that the pesky white rabbit? Anyway...I then found a watch crystal and placed it over top Alice to imitate a 'looking glass' and to relate to the girls using their vivid imagination while they have a tea party.<br /><br />"Time for Smiles" is made on top of an old game card measuring 5.5 inches x 3.5 inches. I used collage sheet images for the (2) little girls and the oversized teacup hat, Victorian-style German scrap butterfly wings, gold pigment ink, white and yellow acrylic paint, tiny bronze brads, espresso brown archival ink, gold foil renaissance borders, a dictionary book scrap, typewriter font letter stamps, a vintage wallpaper scrap, clear stickers from K&Company, a tiny gold metal spoon charm, and an old watch face and crystal.<br /><br />This whimsical piece was really fun to create and brought a smile to my face when I didn't think that was possible at the time. For me, Art has a tendency to heal.Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726837183443203136.post-61392761452142595702009-02-27T11:48:00.004-05:002009-02-28T11:18:19.627-05:00Cycle<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="center"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/1022580878_large-image_fkflowlifelg.jpg" /></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Intense Anticipation.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Apprehension.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Hope.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="left"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="left"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="left">Familiar Feeling.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="left">Unwarranted.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" align="left">Unwanted.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Emergent Pain.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Strain.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Reluctance.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Blood Drips.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Denial.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Disappointment.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Silent Struggle.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Smile.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Cope.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Inward Flow.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Solemn.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Swear.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Start Over.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Wait.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">See.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Intense Anticipation.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Apprehension.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Hope.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Familiar Feeling.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Unwarranted.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Unwanted.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Emergent Pain.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Strain.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Reluctance.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Blood Drips.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Denial.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Disappointment.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Silent Struggle.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Smile.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Cope.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Inward Flow.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Solemn.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Swear.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Start Over.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Wait.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">See.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Intense Anticipation.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Apprehension.</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Hope.</p><p> </p><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/MoondropClothiersLLC/cycle1.jpg" /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette</span><br /><br /><br />************************************************<br /></p><p>I wrote this piece feeling utter despair when month after month, my medicated treatments were not working. I'm not sure if I expected some sort of a miracle to take place once I ingested a tiny pill that joggled my brain and made me feel plum crazy all of the time. Clomid was a beast.</p><p>I remember posting this poem on a myspace blog and getting a response from someone that said something like "They always say when you let go of the control and realize it's out of your hands is the moment it happens....Relax...." I also remember feeling very angry and wanting to punch something after reading that. Of course, I did not learn my lesson and posted similar entries only to get similar remarks and want to punch things again.</p><p>I just heard from Dr. B's nurse. My hCG levels are steadily decreasing...from 659 to 544. I'm to go for repeat b/w next Wednesday. I suppose that I should feel relief that my life is getting back on track, but I'm still very sad about this experience and even now just want to sleep right through it.</p>Que Sera, Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315164051022082422noreply@blogger.com0