tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8413591280040080742024-02-06T21:42:21.329-05:00The Great Space Baby CoasterOff we go! The beginning of my fertility roller coaster ride into the unknown.Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-75966310316373003492009-11-20T01:19:00.007-05:002009-11-20T02:09:49.798-05:00although I'm so tiredI am at a loss for words. Remember that ray of sunshine poking through the clouds? That nice little sunrise warming my cheeks? Well... a giant whirlwind came and knocked it back behind the gloomy billows of darkness! ... and here I am. No child. No adoption. No period. No nothing. What am I doing wrong????? Nothing is right.<br />Do you want to know what happened? Ah! Alas! Another door slammed shut in my face. Its hard to be poetic when your eyes are burning and you can't catch your breath after a good cry. I'm tired and my words aren't as structured as I normally like them to be. I shall relate to you the first story in a quiet, little nutshell.<br />That girl. That girl seemed so excited to tell me about her baby. We were getting to know each other. We were sharing life stories. We were sharing pictures and dreams. My hopes were rising! I was staring at her photographs wondering what kind of child she would have. We joked with each other via e-mails and Myspace messages...sometimes for an hour straight. This young girl was comfortable with me... I could sense it! She told me she felt good knowing her child would be with good people.<br />Then... as if time flip flopped into another space... the dream was over. Suddenly she stopped sending messages. I didn't want to press her so I let it go. The time frame dragged on without responses. Nothing. One evening I noticed she was logged onto her Myspace page and I sent a chat request. She finally responded and for a minute I was relieved. But... Something was wrong. Her sentences were short. "Please God, don't let her be changing her mind!!!!" I felt bold (desperate?) and asked her how her situation was with the baby. A minute passed. Then two. Then three. "Please God... don't do this to me!" Minute four: a response, "Oh. I lost the baby." Time stood still. I mean, it REALLY stood still. I stared at the computer screen. Thats all I could do. Then it happened - my heart literally crumbled. The pain was so intense. Along with the pain came the shame! The shame I had knowing that my tears were streaming for myself rather than for that girl or for the baby put me in a surreal state of mind. I seriously can't describe this heart ache. "pain" "heartbreak" "shame" "hurt" ... these words are so trivial. Part of me wondered if she was lying because she couldn't bare to tell me she changed her mind. She was so nonchalant about it.. as if she were talking about losing her favorite book or a hair barette. Part of me wondered if she was making it all up from the start for a good laugh. I will never know because a month later she deleted me from her 'friend' list and so all contact is over with now. <br /><br />I'm so tired. <br />I haven't slept a wink.<br />I'm so tired.<br />My mind is on the blink.<br />I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink.<br />No No No<br />I'm so tired.<br />I don't know what to do.<br />Although I'm so tired,<br />my mind is set on you...Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-49483009924396450552009-08-16T23:52:00.015-04:002009-08-17T01:23:10.452-04:005th grade timewarp<span style="color:#ff99ff;">Are you there God? It's me, Sadie.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oa1F2zFwY7Ue-OyJw7kGwg3C0gl8R9HLTpfbLbFZkhuHS2yEVsbKKYCjYnBIypvnqpinixg1Q-PsCCe8Oq5HnEEqoA156yS-zD7T9CAnN5PRrhYFeTxusk4tEvNrwUSnzgykwB58QZJb/s1600-h/reading.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370796333508670498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oa1F2zFwY7Ue-OyJw7kGwg3C0gl8R9HLTpfbLbFZkhuHS2yEVsbKKYCjYnBIypvnqpinixg1Q-PsCCe8Oq5HnEEqoA156yS-zD7T9CAnN5PRrhYFeTxusk4tEvNrwUSnzgykwB58QZJb/s200/reading.jpg" /></a> <span style="color:#ff99ff;">Remember that book? Judy Blume fans certainly know what I'm referring to. I think I'm going to read that book all over again. I need to go back in time to a place where I'm just a child with childlike thoughts and concerns. Enough of this adult shit.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">I remember reading "Are you there God, its me Margaret" in 5th grade just as the class was divided by the sexes for that special movie in health class. Awkward boys in one room; giggly girls in the other. My health teacher back then was the school nurse, Mrs. Z. This woman was very tall and lanky... and very old. Her gray hair was styled in a fashion that made her look like an ancient version of Tennile from "Captain & Tennile". She wore polyester pleated pants and plain blouses that had huge bows in the front. She was the one who taught us about periods. To this day, every single time I get my period, Mrs. Z. comes to mind and her voice rings out in the words she once told us when describing them, "Oh, and you'll know when you get it... because its verrry wet!!!" Gross. The monthly cycle thing didn't sound fun at all. In fact, it sounded scary to me. Bleeding, cramps, crankyness... pads!</span><span style="color:#ff99ff;"> </span><br /><br /><div><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;">In the book, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxA6HpDbj1qYh0KNCSbOz-L64QmYXjwx7hyphenhyphen2bzxrak-QdWzzX_6hd-lDNv7Crh-3Iv1O7nDKPCuVP__ZqraLEdmc_s67loNWgiNsAlqsSxFmelHabPXi4yGtnoT2CgvuatFmKfx3hwbn3/s1600-h/belt.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370793404496368978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxA6HpDbj1qYh0KNCSbOz-L64QmYXjwx7hyphenhyphen2bzxrak-QdWzzX_6hd-lDNv7Crh-3Iv1O7nDKPCuVP__ZqraLEdmc_s67loNWgiNsAlqsSxFmelHabPXi4yGtnoT2CgvuatFmKfx3hwbn3/s400/belt.jpg" /></a>Margaret gets her period for the first time and has to learn about wearing a sanitary napkin pad. The description of a sanitary pad in that book, for the longest time, confused and scared the hell out of me! I was totally engrossed with finding out how they worked... why the hell did you need a belt??!?!?!??? A belt????? For what??? I was totally embarrassed to ask anyone about it! This period business sounded more and more like a pain in the ass and I had decided that I didn't want any part of it! I made the decision that I wasn't going to get it ever! ... as if I had a say in the matter.</span></div><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;">Then, one day in the girl's bathroom, it appeared... that little spot of blood on my flowered underwear. "Great! Just great!", my 5th grade voice echoed in the sea foam green bathroom stall. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;">Did I tell anyone??? NO FREAKIN WAY!!! Nobody was gonna know about this! It was soo embarrassing! I didn't want to have to get "pads" because I didn't know how to use the belts!!! My period got heavier and I got more sneaky in hiding it. I waded up toilet paper bundles and put them in my underwear. Who needs pads and belts??!! I figured this period stuff out myself! ... but then by the 3rd day the flow was too much for a mere wad of Charmin! I soiled my panties a lot and stashed the evidence wayyyyyy in the back of my underwear drawer. Soon I ran out of my own panties and resorted to stealing pairs from my mom's drawers! HA! I had outsmarted mother nature! Me, Sadie... all by myself! Ha! </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;">But... the next month it came back. Supplies for hiding this annoying monthly occurance dwindled. My mother's underwear drawer thinned out quickly. One day when I came home from school I went to my bedroom and to my absolute HORROR there was a GIANT box of Maxi pads on my dresser and all my previously dirty underwear in a nice, neat pile next to <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rflylRn9Su64aomQsA5m2_VXtap4V8RFS_T5icg-zM7jfvWCbpAVRBPb3ZltaKrkiqpriT0xZ9KtMKHTvCMNsGbedRHS1NBTS_bNkYoEvZs9La2wouRkrNKqNokuXBYciElS8itijDvU/s1600-h/beltless.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 278px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370793813987368306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rflylRn9Su64aomQsA5m2_VXtap4V8RFS_T5icg-zM7jfvWCbpAVRBPb3ZltaKrkiqpriT0xZ9KtMKHTvCMNsGbedRHS1NBTS_bNkYoEvZs9La2wouRkrNKqNokuXBYciElS8itijDvU/s320/beltless.jpg" /></a>it. Oh my God did I think I was going to die! I was sooo embarrassed and ashamed! I didn't want any part of this!!! I turned around and my mom was standing in my doorway. I didn't say a word. "I was wondering where all my underwear was disappearing to and I found them in your drawer!" I thought I was going to get a lecture on how bad the situation was but instead I got a huge bear hug and a speech on how happy she was that I was a woman now, or something. Ugggg!!!! I didn't want the hug, I didn't want the giant box of pads, I didn't want to be a woman. I just wanted to be plain old Sadie in 5th grade again. When she finally left me alone to sulk in my gloom I looked at the pictures on the outside of the giant box towering on my dresser. Finally, I would find out about the belts! ... but the picture didn't show them. "They must be inside", I thought so I opened it. There weren't any belts whatsoever! What??? The scariest part of being a new woman wasn't real at all. It was the 80's and Maxi pads didn't have belts anymore! I was so relieved.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;">I'm waiting for my period again to start the fertility stuff that was put on the back burner. I'm taking Medroxyprogesterone to make me start bleeding again after 6 months of no period. Starting to get crampy and I have a feeling that my lining is going to be rather thick when it debutes. If only my womanly problems were as simple as they were in the 80's. I want to be plain old Sadie from 5th grade again. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-64867583062130087902009-08-04T19:56:00.016-04:002009-08-16T22:38:46.744-04:00Hi Ho! Kermit the Frrrog here reporting to you from Sadie's world!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSEL8AyjbYEC8erIfAjOMJUpT-SrukimeZJ2yIq9JQlVE24_Dcy9JNnrSKpr_ize5JKUQmjrV6QwkC9hy94-hGZpkc_nNgbnamAGp5p-l7hHAUXLTO9zALr7OsunRImWjpmrVkJErP8yC/s1600-h/Jack.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370749626080466514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSEL8AyjbYEC8erIfAjOMJUpT-SrukimeZJ2yIq9JQlVE24_Dcy9JNnrSKpr_ize5JKUQmjrV6QwkC9hy94-hGZpkc_nNgbnamAGp5p-l7hHAUXLTO9zALr7OsunRImWjpmrVkJErP8yC/s320/Jack.jpg" /></a> Ok... well... its been awhile since I've been on this blog in a sane and sober frame of mind! Not that I drink all the time... its just that my real sad feelings seep out after a night of Jack 'n Cokes (Alcohol IS a depressant afterall!) and my need to express them to someone other than the drunk at the end of the bar sends me to my blog.<br /><br />A little insight as to what those last two entries were about: I had mentioned to my friend Mike that Ethan and I were going through fertility problems and that we started the journey of figuring that out. It was towards the end of the night when everyone started getting sleepy and started crashing on various couches. So during our conversation Mike kept saying how we would be wonderful parents, we deserved a kid, why are there shitty parents out there when awesome ones were childless...blah blah blah. Those statements annoy me sober and bring out my grumpy feelings... I'm sure you can imagine them magnified by the booze! Well, my happy drunk self quickly turned to the depressed one. I excused myself abrubtly and staggered into the computer room to write. ... My words couldn't come out clearly so I just typed a response to all his obvious statements! Then, of course, I balled my eyes out before going to bed. Hey, at least I wasn't drunk dialing an ex boyfriend!!! Haha!!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMkLk97ugRTqRIRqEIhCmAXasbjBo6LBHWHqHBY2ggoJOzVAF0SB5lZn40cBp1qu28UsxS5IrezWHhDOtMsYrFyLGIorUgdbwOFJCuU3XizD2Mk26UfSXIMzIvrLEjSMPHrnFC2I3g6Kg/s1600-h/kermit.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370753283461879058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMkLk97ugRTqRIRqEIhCmAXasbjBo6LBHWHqHBY2ggoJOzVAF0SB5lZn40cBp1qu28UsxS5IrezWHhDOtMsYrFyLGIorUgdbwOFJCuU3XizD2Mk26UfSXIMzIvrLEjSMPHrnFC2I3g6Kg/s200/kermit.jpg" /></a>Well, a little update... I feel like Kermit the Frog reporting the news. "HI HO!" </div><br /><div></div><div>Well, ok, it will have to be a big update since I haven't been on here in so long! Ummmm where to start??? </div><div><div><div><div> </div><div>No kid. Sorry to disappoint you. BUT this just in... a little lead in the adoption story. </div><br /><div>I had made a Myspace page a few years ago and in my profile, I stated that we were a native american couple seeking to adopt a native child. I put all our interests and ba<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ge0CivC996kv1imWily8OkJkZ8i7q1qm36ZScGwMd2hTNO8MxT7v_neURSoXyAC2gT9FocKeMQKpVSPvWMSo_0qKiZ1WVd7o2JrsfFMPCGzH2c69MrxSA4jbDss7o_LOyiAPI55qDosr/s1600-h/DanceofJoy.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370753949452704354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ge0CivC996kv1imWily8OkJkZ8i7q1qm36ZScGwMd2hTNO8MxT7v_neURSoXyAC2gT9FocKeMQKpVSPvWMSo_0qKiZ1WVd7o2JrsfFMPCGzH2c69MrxSA4jbDss7o_LOyiAPI55qDosr/s320/DanceofJoy.jpg" /></a>ckground info on there (omitting our names of course). I kind of forgot about it because I didn't get any friend requests in 3 years! A couple months ago I decided to check it out on a whim and found that this young girl requested to be-friend me. I was VERY intrigued. </div><div> </div><div>A few generic messages were sent back and forth and then I finally had to ask her why she wanted to be-friend me. Apparently, this girl is native, pregnant, and can't take care of her child. She can't find anyone to take the baby but her friend happened to see my page! I admit, even though my senses were telling me to remain calm and in my seat, I really wanted to do Balki's 'Dance of Joy' from the TV show Perfect Strangers!!! </div><div> </div><div>We chatted back and forth through Myspace messages. Let's call her Bree. I found out Bree was 16 and had big plans for her future. She said if she had a baby now she wouldn't be able pursue her dreams. She loved poetry, singing in her band, and reading. I showed my husband her pictures and we both agreed that she was an exceptionally beautiful girl. I mean, beautiful black eyes, lovely smile and pretty long hair. I looked at her hands and wondered if her child would have the same delicate fingers.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KWASaRyr9teru0Pa5EHFYvmSRruLIcNvZhjvp9EA5-us4-X37jTZBeZ1csoBYfHSyYFWj_G0-Zk_VbunpFRjeJMmKMnvizT2H64XpbfqE0XmfcIV2XZ8jES6YkE1jfJZghzHMi5zQuDJ/s1600-h/dance.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370745869640809250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KWASaRyr9teru0Pa5EHFYvmSRruLIcNvZhjvp9EA5-us4-X37jTZBeZ1csoBYfHSyYFWj_G0-Zk_VbunpFRjeJMmKMnvizT2H64XpbfqE0XmfcIV2XZ8jES6YkE1jfJZghzHMi5zQuDJ/s320/dance.jpg" /></a>I let myself take a glimpse into the (possible) future and wondered what her baby would look like grown up. I pictured myself going to ceremonies and finally being one of the mothers bouncing and hushing a child gently while all the little girls surrounded him/her for a peek. I pictured him/her 5 years from now learning how to dance. </div><div> </div><div>Then, without letting myself get too carried away, my mind shoved me back into the present and told me to be realistic! Who knows WHAT will happen!?! This girl could be joking for all we know! It could be some twisted attention seeking behavior. I decided to just take the time to get to know one another. No harm in doing that, right? She proved to be a rather intellegent girl with realistic goals for her future. </div><br /><div>More pictures were sent<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMh_R7L4SrMlswQnxjZVB4weVSae2kzUv0i7D9MZIFeDeHpjMgtQw1TtpRWCzaHoQ4ANIqstad4PJS0ymSzz6XM6-DgIfg2Bja41JuNasYVnZ5uBQbqrm7mTgz4alZKkbNO9WtquAh9VN/s1600-h/sunrise.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 198px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370748617038884066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMh_R7L4SrMlswQnxjZVB4weVSae2kzUv0i7D9MZIFeDeHpjMgtQw1TtpRWCzaHoQ4ANIqstad4PJS0ymSzz6XM6-DgIfg2Bja41JuNasYVnZ5uBQbqrm7mTgz4alZKkbNO9WtquAh9VN/s320/sunrise.jpg" /></a>, dreams were shared, family stories were relayed. She said her family liked my profile and that she thought we seemed very nice. She really liked the information I sent her about what kind of family we would be. I told her about my family and Ethan's. She liked the fact that we had big birthday parties every time someone's came up. Would we add a new birthday party to the list? Finally, a glimpse of sunrise! ...just a glimpse, but I'll take it.</div><br /><div>So... that is the latest scoop. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-49516858332766308022009-07-19T02:59:00.002-04:002009-07-19T03:00:41.142-04:00nobody gives a fuck about this blog but me.nobody gives a fuck about this blog but me.Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-85886352024647843962009-01-11T03:19:00.001-05:002009-01-11T03:21:11.725-05:00On what he said:<br />Fuck... you don't hafta tell me that. I already know.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />.... where is the Creator????<br /><br />p.s. I'm drunk.Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-25318529382371724782008-10-29T18:12:00.002-04:002008-10-29T18:55:08.447-04:00regarding 3/26/08 and the notion of being betrayed<div><a href="http://www.mitchie.com/catalog/images/In%20gods%20hands_girl.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 288px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 358px" alt="" src="http://www.mitchie.com/catalog/images/In%20gods%20hands_girl.jpg" border="0" /></a>I keep going back to 3/26/08 (You'll have to read that blog before you read this). I still feel betrayed and then I put it in the Creator's hands and then I feel betrayed again and then I put it in the Creator's hands... and then I feel betrayed. I can never tell when the Creator wants me to act on things and when to let him take care of things. I suppose there really isn't much for me to do in this case. I still don't know if Becca meant to move ahead with her adoption situation behind my back or not.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The whole situation has been resurfacing in the back of my head since it happened. Recently I needed someone else's take on the story so I mentioned it to my co-workers (they know Becca and the baby's family). </div><div><br /></div><div>I told them the story... how we had been wanting to adopt, how Becca had been working with us, how she said she wouldn't mind adopting some day, how she said she'd prefer any child that came along to go to a <em>couple</em>, how suddenly she wasn't returning my phone calls, how suddenly she wasn't returning my e-mails, how I happened to find out about a baby girl who needed a family, how my biological mother was taking care of her at first and suddenly someone else had her, how that someone else happened to be Becca, how suddenly Becca was going ahead with adopting her. </div><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.foxnews.com/images/326030/3_61_112407_wildfire_california.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://www.foxnews.com/images/326030/3_61_112407_wildfire_california.jpg" border="0" /></a>Did I say too much??? Everyone's business on the Rez spreads like wildfire! My co-workers told me something that made me steam even more! According to Indian Child Welfare laws any child put up for adoption should go to family members FIRST. Becca told me she was related to the baby.... but my co-workers told me that she really isn't due to that someone in her family being adopted! That means that she's only related to the child by adoption... and I'm more closely related to the baby! They also said that if the family of the baby knew about us they would probably want us to take the baby. .... sigh... </div><div><br /></div><div>Before I get too fired up... I have to step back and put it in the hands of the Creator. Maybe my putting a bug in someone else's ear wasn't a good idea... but I needed more takes on the story. They both agreed that it all sounded fishy. </div><div><br /></div><div align="center">I keep thinking about that baby girl... </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">...but I will continue to keep the faith </div><div align="center"> and know that</div><div align="center">whatever that is meant to be </div><div align="center">will be.</div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-64946949917738750752008-10-07T18:55:00.006-04:002008-10-19T21:33:12.606-04:00i'm not living in the real world, i'm not living in the real world, i'm not living in the real world... no more no more...<div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://www.arbutusphotography.com/images/BLOG/bw_lone_tree.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.arbutusphotography.com/images/BLOG/bw_lone_tree.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>Ok... well my last blog was rather blue. I get that way sometimes. Is it PMS? Who knows.... Again, I wouldn't be able to say if it was or not what with my periods being so wacky.<br /><br /><br />I realized since my last blog that I really wasn't living life. I didn't have a job so all I did was sit around on the computer all day. I surfed the web and checked my e-mails a few times a day to see if there were any new messages from Storkland. I was living a virtual life. </div><br /><div></div><div><a href="http://jennylens.com/misc/exhibits/laluz1107/77-02-16-07-14-blondflrwh.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://jennylens.com/misc/exhibits/laluz1107/77-02-16-07-14-blondflrwh.jpg" border="0" /></a>There is a song by Blondie called, "Living in the Real World." That was my theme song because the lyrics go, "I'm not living in the real world, I'm not living in the real world, I'm not living in the real world.. no more, no more... " </div><br /><div></div><div>Debbie Harry represents everything I always wanted to be. I love her style and I love the fact that she didn't give a fuck about what everyone thought about her. She did her own thing.<br /><br />So last month I had my 33rd birthday and I began to evaluate my life so far. Besides the obvious void, there was something else missing. I needed to get out in the world and live!!!!! I was living in computer land and sometimes I wouldn't go outdoors all frickin' day!! I just had to do something about that!<br /><br />So what did I do? Something crazy and totally not me at all.... well, maybe it IS me and I just needed to get the crazy side of me out in the open!<br /><br />I decided to join a roller derby team! How fuckin' crazy is that!?!? When I told my family the decision, they couldn't believe it. I was always the quiet, nice, mellow girl in the family. I still am... I just kick ass now!<br /><a href="http://www.devilkatrock.net/images/fliers/Nor_Cal_Roller_Derby_04_25_2008_flier.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.devilkatrock.net/images/fliers/Nor_Cal_Roller_Derby_04_25_2008_flier.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I'm getting excersize, I'm meeting new people, I'm building myself into something stronger, I'm building my self-esteem, I'm building my leg/ass muscles, I'm having loads of fun, and I'm getting out of the house for once! Roller derby is so much fun!!!!<br /><br />I also got a job at a school working with kids from K-8. $10.00/hour, 40 hours a week. I guess you could say I'm a positive peer... theres no official title for the work I do. Basically, I visit each class once a week and talk about making good decisions, drugs and alcohol, self-esteem, bullying, etc. I enjoy making differences in peoples' lives and I feel really good about this job. The kids are awesome! I'm making tons of friends at the school too.<br /><br />Things are on the up swing. I'm still pursing the baby thing... but at least I quit putting my life on hold waiting... and waiting... and waiting... and going crazy... and waiting... etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. </div></div></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-51516644439596842472008-09-07T19:42:00.004-04:002008-09-07T20:40:50.262-04:00depression sets in on this rainy september dayI'm having a moment of depression.<br /><br /><div>I thought for sure Dr. Kringle would be able to pin point what my problems were, fix them, and then scoot me off to have a baby. Well, didn't turn out that way. He is at a loss and I am now scheduled for an appointment with a Fertility Clinic in November.<br /><br />The clinic sent me a packet, along with a DVD, explaining the different treatments they offer, the percentages of success rates, infirtility factors, payment options, etc. etc. All of the information was overwhelming and I feel as though I'm spinning out of control with all these terms and proceedure names that I know nothing about!<br /><br />As I flipped through the folder in a daze I <a href="http://www.schmitt-hall-studios.com/art3/depression.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.schmitt-hall-studios.com/art3/depression.jpg" border="0" /></a>suddenly burst into tears as I read the definition of infertility: The inability to conceive after one year of regular unprotected intercourse. (Its been over 6 years for us) It was official... I'm Infertile. I cried as I thought about everyone I know who has had children without even thinking about it. I never felt so inferior. I got angry at Becca all over again as I thought about her holding that little girl at the fair....and here I am getting poked and prodded and jabbed and medicated and injected and x-rayed and peered into and put under and punctured and cut up and sewn up and shuffled along to the next doctor to do more of the same. I got even angrier when I thought of how she could have her own biological children if she wanted to... and here she is trying to adopt this little girl for her own instead of trying to help me like the original plan. It fuckin' sucks!!!!!!!!!! Damn it, I'm STILL angry about it!!!! (but I will continue to keep my cool....even though I wanna scratch her eyes out. She is still trying to help us with adoption... I hope.) Her words still ring in my ears, "I think I would like to adopt some day... but if something comes up, I'd definitely want any child to go to a couple first." FUCK!<br /><br />Sometimes I just wanna have a good cry. Sometimes that cry comes at odd times... like after sex. Luckily Ethan didn't see the tears coming down my cheeks after we did it the day I opened the packet. Yes, the sex was good... but I'm damaged goods. I really felt it then.<br /><br />I don't wanna have to wait until November to see what the next step is. I don't wanna have to go to this clinic. I don't wanna learn about their treatment options. I don't wanna worry about whether or not my insurance will cover this place. I don't wanna give my arm up for more bloodwork. I don't wanna have my abdomen pressed by cold hands again. I don't wanna wear a backless hospital gown and sit on a waiting table again. I don't wanna fill out more forms. I don't wanna call my health insurance company again. I don't wanna get more bills in the mail.<br /><br />I just want to have a baby like a normal person would GOD DAMN IT!<br />Fuck you God.</div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-60939582683981155232008-09-03T18:15:00.010-04:002008-12-11T06:48:40.311-05:00roller coaster does a loop-de-loop and I'm gonna barf.I saw Dr. Kris Kringle today for my post-op appointment. He showed me some pictures of my ovaries and tubes which was really rad! They looked good but my left tube was still blocked after they injected the dye. He found a polyp (which I got to see) and got rid of it. He also referred me to a specialist and I have an appointment with the new doctor in November. Man, I hope I don't have to go under the knife again. I was hoping to get some answers but I'm still in the dark. <div></div><div><a href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:R3hDN7QpNKCFxM:http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p14/beatnikloserkid/Old%2520Hollywood/greta_garbo_02.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:R3hDN7QpNKCFxM:http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p14/beatnikloserkid/Old%2520Hollywood/greta_garbo_02.jpg" border="0" /></a>In other news, I ran into Becca at a fair last week. I was walking towards a building and she turned the corner in front of me. I'm still a little saddened about the whole "misunderstanding" about that little girl she now has (See March 26th blog entitled 'cry cry cry cry cry cry cry'). I happened to notice her first and looked away. She was holding <em>her</em> baby. My heart sank with saddness and bitter jealousy. I managed to fake smile and looked up, "Oh! Hey Becca. I didn't see you... almost walked right by you! How are you?!?" (I COULD HAVE BEEN NOMINATED FOR AN OSCAR FOR THAT ONE!) I didn't want to look at the baby girl but I had to force myself to... afterall, who greets someone holding a baby and doesn't make a comment??? "Ohhh... she's soo cute!" I even grabbed her fingers and smiled. I felt so fake. I was totally acting. Move over Greta Garbo!</div><div></div><div>Yes, the baby WAS cute... but looking at her made my depression level rise. "Say hi to Sadie", Becca said to the baby who obviously wasn't old enough to talk. I smiled and made small talk, "I'm trying to find my husband! He's lost!" (fake chuckle). She chuckled. It sounded just as fake as mine but I couldn't tell for sure. Suddenly she says, "Hey - I'm looking into something for you so don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you. I know I've been so busy with other things but don't worry. I'm looking into something." Was I showing my disapointment of having empty arms at that moment? ...or was it simply HER GUILT! Hmmmm...... I know I know... psycho Sadie.</div><div><br />Her comment actually snapped me back into the real world. It was interesting. Inside, I was jumping up and down as if it were Christmas morning and I was standing at a massive pile of gifts under the tree waiting for the green light to start tearing paper to shreds. On the outside, I calmly said, "Oh really? Ok." and "Oh, thats no problem, I understand we're all busy these days." and "Ok, yeah.. keep me posted. I'll see ya later." (AND THE OSCAR GOES TO...) "OK thanks. Talk to you later."</div><br />Immedietly I went into psycho mode. "Working on something"... "working on something"... those words kept repeating in my mind. What the heck was she working on?!? Couldn't she give me any more information?!? In my attempt to remain cool I think I forgot to ask for details. DOH! What was I thinking??!! Uggg...<br /><div align="center"><br />(...*ENVELOPE RIPPING* ...SADIE MARIE! FOR HER ROLE IN 'SHADY SITUATIONS' - APPLAUSE APPLAUSE APPLAUSE) </div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJVFbbsB7XIvh_OIC_foY4vRM5Sm3N5G6jPMVdCIWWYgU5t_0DZNLaL_lguALzVNR_R9oAHiwe5yqsG8CICCmmq0Uui9fTy8O1iS-hMlom6WTnPMteA3ifsjfxEwq1brv6x6oreeNkCdU/s400/Oscar+Statue++2008+oscar+academy+award+winners.jpg" border="0" />Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-62153053828345080042008-08-21T00:26:00.006-04:002008-08-21T16:26:10.125-04:00belly button blues<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2281/2256513771_c10219e0e9.jpg?v=0"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2281/2256513771_c10219e0e9.jpg?v=0" border="0" /></a> For some reason, I have a phobia concerning my belly button. Well, not according to the literal definition of the word "phobia" I suppose. (I like to exaggerate sometimes). I just don't like it messed with.<br />My button is nothing spectacular... just your typical, everyday "innie". Hmmm, I guess its not a button at all... but a hole. A mysterious hole. A hole that goes... nowhere!<br />I'd rather have an innie I think. I'm not a fan of the "outtie" (no offense to anyone who has an outtie). I don't know why. Perhaps partly because its so exposed to the elements. Things should be kept on the inside of the body as much as possible. You know, for maximum protection.<br />I don't let anyone near my belly button. My husband knows this and thinks its funny to poke his finger in there sometimes at night before we fall asleep. I totally freak out! I don't know what it is. Maybe its a fear that he'll break through or... I don't know, that my button will engulf his finger. I can't explain it. My husband is banned from going near my belly button.<br /><br />I finally took the band-aid off after my laproscopy and my poor belly button looks like it was mangled in a freak accident. There are scabby things and odd puckers and stitches and protruding threads.<br /><br />I just gotta say...<br />ITS TOTALLY FREAKING ME OUT!!!!!!!!!!!Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-8079648754570518872008-08-16T19:39:00.011-04:002008-08-20T09:29:46.614-04:00hey... are you staring at my uterus?!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235269928556011986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhOLw17nCVy3J0OMRTEGGYDEx79kZlq0CNhZf85ttWl9RN7sMcU4UoPUbqqhOXfPT6L0mltYDYFyvAaiRIuvI5kvMjr7xEPxe0G3t3zHxmTU8Xl8CO1uLVcEH1uGjIFDzl66pZuqq_S39/s320/seeeuku.jpg" border="0" />During my freshmore year in high school (having to repeat the 9th grade, I refused to be referred to as a mere Freshman for one more year ) I had a strange Social Studies teacher. I'll call him Mr. Wackjob. This was the guy who always had a drawer full of random toys like remote controlled Godzillas or wind up chomping teeth. During test time, Mr. Wackjob could be found fiddling with one toy or another as if he were in his own world. During class sometimes, he would also play home movies of his times over in Vietnam during the war... complete with the blood and gore. I thought it was cool at the time, but thinking about it now... hmmm... some of his home movies could be a little inappropriate for young viewers. Then again, my 6th grade nephews are glued to the tv playing the latest war video game which is just as violent.<br /><br />One particular day, Mr. Wackjob came into class and quietly put a carpet down onto the floor. Everyone quieted down to see what strange ritual he seemed to be setting up for. He acted in a very somber way and all of us kids looked at each other wondering what was going on. He knelt down on the carpet and closed his eyes in silence for what seemed to be more than 5 minutes. Giggling from the back of the room started. Suddenly, Mr. Wackjob took out a knife from its hidden sheath under his shirt and proceeded to cut into his lower abdomen with a loud, drawn out moan. The giggling stopped. Everyone froze. He collapsed in a heap.<br /><br /><div>Mr. Wackjob had just commited Seppuku in front of the entire 9th grade Social Studies class at 8:30 in the morning. (Don't worry, the knife was fake).</div><div><br />Seppuku (切腹, Seppuku<a title="Help:Japanese" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:Japanese">?</a> "stomach-cutting") is a form of Japanese <a title="Suicide" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suicide#Ritual_suicide">ritual suicide</a> by <a title="Disembowelment" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disembowelment">disembowelment</a>. Seppuku was originally reserved only for <a title="Samurai" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samurai">samurai</a>. Part of the samurai honor code, seppuku has been used voluntarily by samurai to die with honor rather than fall into the hands of their enemies, as a form of capital punishment for samurai who have committed serious offenses, and for reasons that shamed them. Seppuku is performed by plunging a sword into the abdomen and moving the sword left to right in a slicing motion.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>After that morning, I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXIU7mLKYe9x1TUl8rS8OSj9UNd9C4h9puWUE3MvF6Aa5yuPmzNDWJaphexCaUDdMywm4iyw8VO9aliiejS87OjZQlHjcXAapdnPaCPYgyHBnWMHopkjS6da_hGcL0YmIkBB8VEfajSnp/s1600-h/harold.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235997646281724978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXIU7mLKYe9x1TUl8rS8OSj9UNd9C4h9puWUE3MvF6Aa5yuPmzNDWJaphexCaUDdMywm4iyw8VO9aliiejS87OjZQlHjcXAapdnPaCPYgyHBnWMHopkjS6da_hGcL0YmIkBB8VEfajSnp/s320/harold.jpg" border="0" /></a> never forgot the word Seppuku and its meaning. Years later I felt particularily brainy when, after watching Bud Cort cut himself in a similar fashion in the movie 'Harold & Maude', I blurted out, "Hey! He must be performing some sort of Seppuku-like ritual." The friends I was with responded, "What the fuck are you talking about??!" Way to go Mr. Wackjob... your teaching method worked. If only I could remember who fought in the war of 1812! </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>You might be wondering what this all has to do with ...well, anything. I'll tell you! Last Saturday morning I went under the knife. I had my hysteroscopy, D&C, and laproscopic surgery to find out what the heck was wrong with my female goods. It is now Monday evening and I still feel as if Dr. Kringle sliced my lower abdomen open with a Seppuku sword. Uggg. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div align="center">The Results Are In:</div><div align="center"></div><div>1. My ovaries looked good... though the left fallopian tube is still clogged even after the power washing. </div><div>2. My uterus is bigger than normal and it is oddly shapen. </div><div>3. The hole to get in the uterus was very small... almost entirely closed so he couldn't get his instrument in there at first. </div><div>4. Once inside the uterus he saw no polyps or fibroids which is good. </div><div></div><div>I have to see some sort of specialist. I now feel like a freakish alien with a giant uterus. How normal is this?? </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfm6q4KvDdbnZL1eWO0ZNb66PjFQvtPoUdnU3Xd8b55F9kwfmp__nv__WREvkZQClqMVuE2fEfvw5nD8KGWY_o_yv14_HyN-_hqZIPKdPc7g80yM5EvLF4OEr_qzFOPkh-g2SVTZ-r_kN/s1600-h/puzzle.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236004316043182626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfm6q4KvDdbnZL1eWO0ZNb66PjFQvtPoUdnU3Xd8b55F9kwfmp__nv__WREvkZQClqMVuE2fEfvw5nD8KGWY_o_yv14_HyN-_hqZIPKdPc7g80yM5EvLF4OEr_qzFOPkh-g2SVTZ-r_kN/s320/puzzle.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div></div><div>After the proceedure Ethan was talking to the doctor and laughing. Dr. Kringle said, "Hey, now-a-days they can get anyone pregnant it seems. Hey, I wouldn't be surprised if you or I could get pregnant if someone tried hard enough!" Ha! I can't see Ethan pregnant! THAT would be a sight!</div><div>I'm glad my doctor is optimistic. At least its another few pieces to the no baby puzzle. </div><div></div><div>Time to pop another happy flying pill!</div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-30845247215647231452008-06-05T21:30:00.003-04:002008-06-14T21:31:24.286-04:00human pin cushion<a href="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2334295/2/istockphoto_2334295_pin_cushion_and_pins.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2334295/2/istockphoto_2334295_pin_cushion_and_pins.jpg" border="0" /></a> Well... a little update on whats wrong with my reproductive goods. I DON'T KNOW! Doctor Chris Kringle couldn't find anything conclusive with the HSG so he suggested I go under the knife. (Insert sarchastic "yay!" here) He needs to root around in there a little bit... so...<br /><br /><div>I get to be knocked out and have 3 things done: 1. Hysteroscopy 2. D & C 3. Laproscopy proceedure. </div><br /><br /><div>He still thinks there is something wrong there Dr. Kringle is going to look inside and outside of my uterus. Hmmmm... I'm more afraid of him finding anything remotely 'bad'. There is a definite blockage in my left fallopian tube and another doctor suggested that it might be backed up menstral gunk. "In the many years of practicing, I've never heard of such a thing! I must have missed THAT lecture. But who knows... " </div><br /><br /><div>Eegads! I'm going to be a human pin cushion!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>In other news, Becca is coming to my house on Monday morning to do a homestudy. I'm glad Ethan doesn't have school that morning so we'll both be there. I know its not necessary, but now I feel like I need to clean EVERY single nook and cranny of my house!!! You know, dust the baseboards and all the light bulbs, straighten the CD rack and hanged pictures, scrape under the stove burners and the gook behind the toilet, etc. etc. etc. As if Becca is going to have this pristine white glove ready and go over every little detail, "OH...MY...GOD!!! A child couldn't possibly live in this kind of environment!! Look at those dust bunnies!!!!" Ok, so thats a little too psycho... but I still feel like doing it. I wonder if any other potential adoptive moms have thought the same? </div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-60036924285478954102008-06-02T23:35:00.005-04:002008-06-03T00:15:33.343-04:00a need to stop the tackiness<a href="http://www.lapsaky.com/~lapsakyc/catalog/images/shop_cart_cover_small.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.lapsaky.com/~lapsakyc/catalog/images/shop_cart_cover_small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I just keep thinking about that baby girl living with Becca. She might be 7 months old now. I keep thinking about the style of clothes I would buy her if she were ours...I find myself punishing myself by flipping through the baby racks at Target in a daydream. I gotta stop doing that. Am I psycho????? For now *sigh* I shop with an empty cart.<br /><br /><div><div>My sister-in-law and her mother seem to think that frilly, stiff, polyester taffeta dresses with fake velvet belts are pretty. They dress up my niece in that shit all the time and I just want to strip the child down and dress her in something not-so-tacky! </div><br /><div>You should have seen the easter dress she was drowning in this year! Just for shits and giggles, they decided to put<a href="http://www.doles.org/grafx-16/Delk-Olivia%20Grant3.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.doles.org/grafx-16/Delk-Olivia%20Grant3.jpg" border="0" /></a> it on her 2 days before easter to see how she would look. I seriously thought it was a halloween costume! My instinct was to laugh... but then I saw their proud faces and I bit my tongue. I thought it was a Halloween princess costume!!! In the words of the dad in the movie 'A Christmas Story', she looked "like a pink nightmare!!" The top bodice part was a scratchy polyester with sequin "flowers" and bows. The bottom skirt part was layers upon layers upon layers of this netting shit. It was like, child beauty pagent tacky. "Ohhhh, you're sooo pretty!!!", they squealed. I bit my tongue and swallowed the little bit of puke erupting from my esophagus. </div><br /><div>I would dress babies in cotton and calico prints....plain jane. But thats just me. </div></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-15710028128670513942008-06-01T00:09:00.003-04:002008-12-11T06:48:41.339-05:00good news bad news<a href="http://www.digi-hound.com/wp/img_wp3/wp_fireworks_dual3.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.digi-hound.com/wp/img_wp3/wp_fireworks_dual3.jpg" border="0" /></a> HORRAY!!!! After months of waiting for the window of opportunity to present itself, I finally had the HSG done! I feel like lighting off fireworks! Finally!<br /><br /><div><div><div><div>How odd it is to see your insides on live TV! It was kind of creepy to see my pelvis bones on live TV. Fallopian tubes are funny. Before all this HSG shit, I thought fallopian tubes were as straight as the textbooks in health class showed. Knowing that we've been having unprotect<a href="http://en.citizendium.org/images/thumb/1/1a/Curly_fries.jpg/290px-Curly_fries.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 177px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" height="160" alt="" src="http://en.citizendium.org/images/thumb/1/1a/Curly_fries.jpg/290px-Curly_fries.jpg" border="0" /></a>ed sex for 5 years resulting in no baby, I expected to see a couple of curly Q fries with corkscrew curves. They weren't THAT bad, but they did look kind of like winding creeks you can sometimes see out of an airplane window. The cramping was non-existant when he first put the catheter in. When he injected the dye, however, I could feel it and yeah... cramp city. It was a familiar cramp though... nothing I hadn't felt before during some of my periods. </div><br /><div>Well, the right side looked fine. The dye spilled out normally. My left side looked "funny." There was some odd spillage and the other doctor reading the screen asked if the catheter was coming out. When I heard that I thought, "Aw shit! Not again!" I immeditely wondered if I should have invested in those Ben Wah balls I saw at a recent "adult toy" party a friend of mine had. Maybe I should have trained my cooch beforehand to hold things in better!!! Luckily the catheter didn't come out... but my doctor kept looking at my left side. He thought there could be a polyp but he wasn't sure. </div><br /><div>When the proceedure was over he told me to stop by his office next week for a follow-up and he would know more by then. He said he might have to schedule a Hystero... something. Hysteroscopy? Ugggg... I'm really starting to hate those women who say, "I'm very fertile. All my husband has to do is LOOK at me and I'm pregnant... tee hee!" I just wanna smash their faces into a brick wall. </div><br /><div>Anyhoo...yeah...<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="172" alt="" src="http://www.icons.org.uk/library/stock-images/tea/0846738.jpg" border="0" />One more thing. I completely forgot about this interesting incident that happed to me almost 3 years ago. I had a woman come over to my house to read tea leaves for me. Part of me was skeptical of her psychic abilities. Part of me was extremely curious. Before she told me what her tea leaves said, she asked if I wanted just good news or the good AND the bad (of course I'm gonna want to know the bad too! Come on! Wouldn't you??) She said there were 12 relatives who have passed on that were watching over me. 7 women and 5 men. They were all awed at what I was doing and curious to know where I was going next. They sometimes crowd around me while I sleep to watch me (creepy, yet comforting) and "thats why sometimes you wake up gasping for breath in the middle of the night" (which was true). "They're getting too close! Haha...all you have t<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjUZJWvl1d1wrDvxQuRDao0DeEgJzjGh6P65CvI6ANLLx25G_DfU51yBWqDDpmYM0IkaXktGSJXqEY85KV8yGLbwjP-Asn34D00-qbPZ3f12yvqIkDqdqk7SmYhjAzZpKiUHGDv13Gayx/s1600-h/Grandma.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206781286403658034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjUZJWvl1d1wrDvxQuRDao0DeEgJzjGh6P65CvI6ANLLx25G_DfU51yBWqDDpmYM0IkaXktGSJXqEY85KV8yGLbwjP-Asn34D00-qbPZ3f12yvqIkDqdqk7SmYhjAzZpKiUHGDv13Gayx/s320/Grandma.jpg" border="0" /></a>o do is tell them you need a little more room and they'll back away."<br /><br /></div><div></div><br /><div>She said that I would "experience a significant loss in a year and a half... could be a car, could be something like an important job... it could be a family member. But it will happen in the Spring a year and a half from now." A year and a half later, in May, I lost my grandma after a sudden stroke. Didn't see it coming. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>I asked if I was ever going to have kids. The leaves told her that there was a "hole" in my left side regarding that. "Yeah... theres definitely a hole. A hole could mean a literal hole... but it could also mean just something wrong in general. Its definitely on your left side. Just see a doctor and it can be fixed. After that you will have kids." Innnteresting.</div><br /><div> </div><div>This tea leaf reading suddenly popped into my head this morning and I was like, "Ohhh myyy goddd!" EVERYTHING she said that would happen to me came true so far! There were other things she said but I'd have to look in my past diaries to find out what they were....but holy shit, eh?!?!</div></div></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-1085160991773616552008-05-09T13:04:00.002-04:002008-05-09T13:34:50.706-04:00would you like some cheese with that whine?<div>Well... as far as the adoption thing goes, Becca finally e-mailed me and said that I'm to meet with her and a woman from my tribe's clan on Tuesday. Its a tiny step forward but at least its forward. The meeting is just to give a heads up as to what we're looking for and to put a little notion in the ears of the chiefs. "For extra support."...whatever that means. Hey, I'll take any support I can get.</div><br /><div>The doctor's office still hasn't called me back about scheduling another HSG... and wouldn't you know it, I got the beginnings of another period yesterday. I think. Its a little soon... but then again, my cycles are so screwed up that "soon" means nothing. "Soon" is actually a good thing considering the fact that I've gone 6 months before without one! So I'm going to call the office when I know that the period is for sure a period. </div><br /><br /><div>I wonder if I'm focusing on the negative too much. Do people REALLY need to hear other peoples negative frustrations?!?! Afterall, I know people who are very negative in nature... and its usually the case that either: A) Their negativity rubs off on others and/or B) Negative things happen to them all the time! Isn't that an odd thing? So I think that instead of the usual whine and rant, I'm going to try to be a little more positive and see where that gets me. ... I bet I fall off the wagon! Ha!</div><br /><br /><div>I'm also trying to be a little more spiritual with this whole fertility thing...if I can ever get it off the ground. No, I'm not your typical Bible thumper (no offense to any Christians who might be reading this, but "Hyper Christians", as Ethan calls them, annoy the shit out of me.) I'm simply talking to the Creator more about this. There is a small ounce of pressure lifted off my shoulders when I put things in the Creator's hands. So Sadie Marie is going down the positive road... for who knows how long... but for now.<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://kellsmurthwaite.files.wordpress.com/2007/12/think-positive.jpg" border="0" /></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-77211155494037430082008-05-02T11:45:00.013-04:002008-12-11T06:48:41.785-05:00help! I'm surrounded by dodos!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTikAER4DzZfVDWIu06AH37SkRn3pjM8vimzsnY6DpZtculPMC5TpBRw3YFr-YbHhGM4FpT91hCy6UCxpLyVvQKuOzp317tkQ8ZNfcZZIn7YahrmKyXcundcZ8-89owYoMjC-cuaaREZH/s1600-h/Dodo1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195809426543117138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTikAER4DzZfVDWIu06AH37SkRn3pjM8vimzsnY6DpZtculPMC5TpBRw3YFr-YbHhGM4FpT91hCy6UCxpLyVvQKuOzp317tkQ8ZNfcZZIn7YahrmKyXcundcZ8-89owYoMjC-cuaaREZH/s320/Dodo1.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong>Extra! Extra! Read All About It! Miss Bird Brain Strikes Again!</strong><br /><div align="center"><strong>Dodo Secretary doesn't know her ass from her elbow.</strong></div><br /><div align="center">I've been waiting to get the ball rolling on the fertility thing for... seriously, I can't count how many months. Frankly, I've stopped counting. One thing after another has been keeping me from even STARTING this whole ordeal of fertility testing... and I haven't even gotten on the damn roller coaster yet!</div><br /><div align="center">In my previous blog I explained how I had to re-schedule another hysterosalpingoram because the first THREE proceedures didn't work. The nurse told me to call when I got my next period(which could be one month to eight months from now for all I know they're so god damn irregular) so I could schedule another proceedure for the following Friday. Remember, it specifically has to be the following Friday AFTER my cycle ends. There is really a small window in which this can take place. </div><br /><div align="center">Well, Yay! I ACTUALLY got a period in April! I called the nurse and she said she'd schedule a proceedure for the next Friday (today). She had to check her books and get back to me on the time and place. She doesn't call back. </div><br /><div align="center">I leave a message at the gyno's office yesterday to see whats up. No call back. Nervously, I call again this morning and Miss Bird Brain Secretary answers. (Whenever she answers I let out an internal sigh... its like talking to a brick wall sometimes!) </div><br /><div align="center">"Hello... I'm just calling to find out when my hysterosalpingogram is and where it'll be?"</div><br /><div align="center">"Ummmm... whats your name?"</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">(I tell her)</div><br /><div align="center">"ummmm.... " ... "hold on..."</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">(*SIGH*)</div><br /><div align="center">"Ummm.. yes, well I don't see you down here. Were you supposed to come in?"</div><br /><div align="center">"No, I'm supposed to have a proceedure done at ____ hospital today... the nurse was supposed to schedule me for it for the Friday following my last period... which is today."</div><br /><div align="center">"umm...do you have a script for that?"</div><br /><div align="center">(WHAT...THE...FUCK!!!!!) "Ummm (insert sarchasm here) No."</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-rbOfoYCrEaT4RdukgQZGqHcd-kX3YYcwgvLwCNdUnN7PJWLZggyalKzsfjRTbqdk44daVrcUkp3uTyURwvczmYZOkooHDAx0xmqQv2SpJ4-pp2DxxNW7nHIdPIcUY_9dZ13SFU0LUcn/s1600-h/art4.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195817788844442466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" height="200" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-rbOfoYCrEaT4RdukgQZGqHcd-kX3YYcwgvLwCNdUnN7PJWLZggyalKzsfjRTbqdk44daVrcUkp3uTyURwvczmYZOkooHDAx0xmqQv2SpJ4-pp2DxxNW7nHIdPIcUY_9dZ13SFU0LUcn/s200/art4.bmp" width="182" border="0" /></a>"Hold on let me check her book..."</div><br /><div align="center">(rolling my eyes and waiting)</div><br /><div align="center">"I don't see you here... (flipping pages)... whats today?"</div><br /><div align="center">(Internal scream) "Friday the 2nd"</div><br /><div align="center">"hmmm... well I don't see... oh wait... oh yes, it's at 11:00 today.."</div><br /><div align="center">(It was 10:30 at this point) "Oh it is!?"</div><br /><div align="center">"Oh wait... thats a different person with your last name. Well, I'm sorry, you're gonna have to call back on Monday when the nurse gets back. She hasn't been here."</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">(ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?!?!?!??!?!) "Oh really?? Because I'm supposed to have this done today. I might have to wait until my NEXT period and I've been waiting to have this done for a long time now."</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">"Well the nurse isn't here and I don't know about this... I'm sorry you'll have to call on Monday."</div><br /><div align="center">I got off the phone and cried out of frustration. This is the SECOND time this has happened where I wait for the elusive period, it comes, I call to schedule an appointment, and I end up having to "call back on Monday" because Miss Bird Brain doesn't know what I'm talking about! Something or someone, be it cosmic or some crazy person dabbling in witchcraft, is clearly trying to stop me from moving forward here! How can there be so many doors slammed in my face... one after another??? </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="center"></div><div align="center">And the adoption thing... I'm dealing with another dodo there! She had wanted to cut off ties altogether because she thought it would be a "conflict of interest" to work with us. Ethan convinced me to tell her that it wasn't really... we're not interested in the child that she had." (I gave up on that one... I put it all in the hands of the Creator) So I called her to see if we could meet and waited a very long time for her to get back to me.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I FINALLY got a phone call, "Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner... I've just been so busy with the baby and all...you know, cuz I have the baby now... and well (awkward pause) ummm..." If that wasn't a dagger in my heart, I don't know what is! (Read my previous post about forming an angry mob about that! I get sick thinking about it still) </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Finally, we met with Becca with our questions. We ended up saying yes to foster care first even though it scares the shit out of me! She created up some "official form" for us to fill out right there on the spot and she said she'd take it to the chiefs. I finally felt like something was rolling the ball. We were officially on the waiting list and she was going to notify other tribes around us as well. "I'll let you know next week when we can meet with the chiefs. You can come along too." Two weeks went by and I e-mailed her. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Her response in a nutshell: Sorry, it must be frustrating for you. I didn't get a chance to talk to the chiefs yet. Sometimes they are here (at the office... if you wanna call it that) and thats when I get a chance to speak with them. They haven't been in yet ... but I'll let you know.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I had to read her response 3 times before I could really understand what she was saying. Her grammer was absolutely horrible! ... and she has a college degree??!? I'm no English major but at least write where people can understand what you're trying to say! What kind of people am I working with?!?!?!</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">You know, I wipe my hands of trying to deal with her... again, I put it all in the hands of the Creator. I'm done. I'm through. I'm not going to follow up with her anymore.<br />Whatever happens will be the work of the Creator... I'm done working hard to get started. I'm done working hard to get nowhere. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195820086651945842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 205px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="205" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_d_Ui7A1FZ02x5ojNLnMLSPgnE8KKlF2k4of7qu_wScUbW9FHFqL6RpjoriR6a1bGWokvC6OlaaFbRa-76oXYREeA_10NQIkjUVrchvdezezR5u2G6xjTp6EOFaww8AYVt5fHnwX4r9Ts/s200/art.bmp" width="205" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-7220875373393259392008-04-10T08:33:00.006-04:002008-12-11T06:48:42.110-05:00Traffic Jam(This is a post I started on March 31st)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIG7qBRO4XWCSub6qh7IgFW4jP1f1Qs5KtpMui8YhsxGQG_e1sxzIHF0D2OQKG7_ypO2EOBJfAvwrgyjsBRjvePK6qw4bsRIGrUJZNq7dP3JSDo_fKvykk2R62H8KO-GxLlFjOg8dU-4e/s1600-h/hsg-art.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195803933279945538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIG7qBRO4XWCSub6qh7IgFW4jP1f1Qs5KtpMui8YhsxGQG_e1sxzIHF0D2OQKG7_ypO2EOBJfAvwrgyjsBRjvePK6qw4bsRIGrUJZNq7dP3JSDo_fKvykk2R62H8KO-GxLlFjOg8dU-4e/s320/hsg-art.jpg" border="0" /></a> So...FINALLY, after months and months of waiting, my appointment to get the hysterosalpingogram has come. I'm finally on the road to seeing what the hell is wrong with my baby making goods, right?<br /><br /><div>Yeah, there was a little cramping but nothing too serious. And guess what!! Instead of ONE proceedure, I was (insert sarchasm here) lucky enough to get THREE done. Yes, you got it... THREE. Ahem, yes, in the same day. (Is that a record?) </div><br /><div>I get to the room to find no comfy, cushioned stirrup table waiting for me. Instead, there was just a long, cold metal table. I didn't even get a strip of that crinkly tissue paper to sit on! The doctor was running late so I sat there, feet dangling 2 feet above the floor, wondering what all the gadgets were on the table next to me. "Ooooo! Are we gonna carve a pumpkin!" </div><br /><div>The doctor comes in and apologizes for being late and for the lack of stirrups. "This isn't my usual spot to do these things. I hope you don't mind." Hey, I didn't care... as long as it wasn't in a dark alley somewhere, I was fine. I wasn't even nervous. In fact, I was kind of excited to be able to see some of my insides on the screen above my head. (My insides intrigue me. When I had my gall bladder out, I asked if I could keep the stones that were giving me so much grief. Did you know that gall stones can get to be the size of peanut M&M's?!??!! Mine were anyway. I mailed the gall stones, which were in a nice travel size vial, to my friend in Florida. He, in turn, sent them to a friend in New Orleans. Its been a joke among my friends and I as to "who has the stones now?" ...and yes, I'm THAT odd...bite me!) Anyhoo.....</div><br /><div>So I'm lying there and I'm desperately trying to keep my legs in position... I didn't think those stirrup thingies really did much but I sure missed them! I felt the cramping... but it wasn't anything I didn't feel before during my normal cycle. In fact I thought, "THATS the cramping?? Thats it??" So my gyno inserts the catheter thingie and tells me to scoot up the table and lye under this looming machine. No problem. Just as he's about to push the dye through... out pops everything. Ok, whatever... he's gotta do it again. So I scoot down at the edge of the table again; holding onto my knees to keep them in place. Catheter in, some more cramping, another scoot up under the looming machine ... and POP! Out it comes again. The doctor apologized again, "Ok, one more time." So... we go through the hysterosalpingogram dance again... and again...POP! </div><br /><div>"Jesus Christ! *Sigh*" Ok, here we go again. Um... but no. The doctor said, "Ok, well I don't want to do this again. I don't want to risk anything so I'm going to have to re-schedule (RE-SCHEDULE!!???!???) this for another time. I won't do any more than three tries." He told me that, unfortunately, the catheters he was using don't come in a One-Size-Fits-All size and that he'd have to use something else. ("Like WHAT?!?!? I pictured some out of date coat hanger device or something). He said he'd write me a perscription for anti-biotics and apologized. I wanted to tell him, "Oh .. hey, wait! ... I've just been waiting sooo long to get this done... do it one more time! I'm sure it'll work" </div><br /><div>So I got dressed and the nurse shows me to the bathroom where a tiny panty liner sits on a paper towel. Even though there was no pain, there was quite a bit of blood and no mere panty liner would do! Luckily I brought my own pad. I was very disappointed. </div><div></div><div>My mom was in the waiting room, "Hey! How did it go??!" "It didn't" "What???" </div>Yeah, thats what I say, "What???"<br /><div>And once again... more waiting...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1U9kqJr2rzJi_YYG_Xbal-BNl5ZN7clOof-5BQpLVpmE4xWYpOVeCou4m30mMYHiNHjyzD_Wnmeb5VH_L_lS_y6T6htiMA4CUROhztFj3Q28cswJnnVTzHWm-mZpSByZD6p4my9V-PTbd/s1600-h/art2.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195802769343808306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 199px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 205px" height="200" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1U9kqJr2rzJi_YYG_Xbal-BNl5ZN7clOof-5BQpLVpmE4xWYpOVeCou4m30mMYHiNHjyzD_Wnmeb5VH_L_lS_y6T6htiMA4CUROhztFj3Q28cswJnnVTzHWm-mZpSByZD6p4my9V-PTbd/s200/art2.bmp" width="187" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div>MY LIFE IS ONE GIANT TRAFFIC JAM!</div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-38382748993383269242008-03-29T18:04:00.005-04:002008-03-29T19:04:33.992-04:00along the tight rope<a href="http://www.crystalinks.com/biological_clock.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.crystalinks.com/biological_clock.jpg" border="0" /></a>What is it about a woman's biological clock that makes her a tad...shall we say... psycho? Is it a chemical imbalance? Does it cause women to think with a cloud in thier brains? Should they be called cuckoo clocks?!!<br /><br />So I got to wondering if I experienced a little bit of the biological clock psychotic woman syndrome that seems to be present in my brain.<br /><br />Am I also fueling the fire, so to speak, by drowning my sorrows on this blog?<br /><br />Am I becoming too consumed by this?<br /><br />Do I need to come back down to earth?<br /><br />After my last post, I was beginning to think that maybe I shouldn't have felt immediately betrayed upon the news that Becca was on the path of adopting a baby herself without telling me. No e-mails, no calls, no nothing and the seemingly avoidance on her part told me she was automatically GUILTY! But... upon thinking about it I got my senses together and thought about Ethan's voice of reason.<br /><div><div><div> </div><div>My thoughts?<br />Thought 1: "Ok, what if Becca was really <em>holding</em> the baby for a bit until it is legally free for adoption. Maybe she WAS going to eventually tell us about it." </div><div> </div><div>Thought 2: "Gee... I sound like I'm a little girl fighting over a toy I don't want to share." </div><br /><div>Thought 3: "What is making me so psycho over this baby??? Am I <a href="http://www.echonews.com/1129/images/lismore_art.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.echonews.com/1129/images/lismore_art.jpg" border="0" /></a>twisted in the head??" </div><br /><div>Thought 4: "You don't really know all the details."</div><br /><div></div><div>REWIND TO LAST NOVEMBER : Becca tells me there is a newborn still in the hospital that needs a foster home. Since we weren't interested in becoming foster parents (we we wanted to JUST adopt), she didn't tell us about it until the day the baby was given away to a home on another reservation. We didn't talk much about it... afterall, whats done is done... besides, we really didn't want to be just foster parents. </div><br /><div>COMING BACK TO TODAY: I finally got an e-mail back from Becca. She apologized for not getting back to me. She told me the story I heard was true; that she had taken in a baby girl. She had JUST decided to go the distance and be her foster mother which looked like it would lead to adoption. "It was the baby I told you about last November." She didn't mention anything to us because she was under the assumption that we didn't want to be foster parents first. (which is true... but at least return my emails!!!) She ended by saying that if we were willing to be foster parents first, this baby could very well be in our lives. There is a good possibility that it could lead to adoption. </div><br /><div></div><div>OH man!!! I don't know what to do. We're going to meet with Becca sometime this week. A good possiblity is better than NO possibility , right????!!!! I have a gut feeling we should take the plunge and risk being foster parents first. (At any time during foster care, the mother or someone in her family could take the child back if they want to). I think that if we didn't go for it that sometime down the road I'll still be thinking, "What if what if what if we made the mistake of not taking her???" I'm willing to risk the heartbreak. </div><br /><div>I'm teetering back and forth on a thin wire miles above the ground!!!!<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 490px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="225" alt="" src="http://ericorbeaux.romandie.com/get/1820/funanbule.png" border="0" /> </div></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-58764949520515488522008-03-27T19:42:00.008-04:002008-08-21T16:23:28.362-04:00a little detective work on the side<a href="http://www.jamietanner.com/uploaded_images/detective-786549.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.jamietanner.com/uploaded_images/detective-786549.jpg" border="0" /></a> So Ethan didn't form an angry mob and march down to Becca's house afterall. After I came home from my cry he asked if I was OK. (As if my puffy eyes didn't give me completely away!) I felt like a little girl when I couldn't form the word "no" and instead, shook my head slowly while staring at the television. He gave me a hug and squeezed my hand. "Maybe in the back of my mind I just don't want to share you... (pause)... but I want what you want." It was sweet and I felt better.<br /><div><div></div><div> </div><div>I don't know why I feel this great urge to do a little detective work about this Becca woman. The grapevine on the rez is extensive and it wouldn't take long to get all the details. First she's all gung-ho about helping me become a mother... then suddenly she doesn't return my calls or e-mails.... and then I find out she took a baby in for herself that is related to my own family! (Indian Child Welfare Act states that family gets children in need of homes first). Something sounds shady. REAL shady.</div><div> </div><div> I told my sister-in-law this story and she agreed. She works at the health clinic for Ethan's tribe and deals with child welfare, etc. Though she could be classified as someone a bit in the background of things, she still knows people to contact. She's going to contact a woman who deals with child cases who also knows Becca. I just wanna know what is going on. Even though I agree with Ethan in that I shouldn't REACT based on the little info I have... there is st<a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1238/869076654_2642de83b9.jpg?v=0"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1238/869076654_2642de83b9.jpg?v=0" border="0" /></a>ill this instintive voice inside me saying, "You know what Becca! Don't fuck with me!" I e-mailed her once again. In my e-mail I played dumb. I wondered why she hadn't returned my e-mails. I also said that I heard about my biologial mother not being able to take care of a baby in the family and wondered if she knew anything about it! I told her to let me know if there was anything we could do to help. So far, no answer... but that was only 2 days ago. In the meantime, I'll gather up my spies. My puffy eyes are gone and now its time for the cat in me to go on the prowl. </div><br /><div>I just can't help thinking about that baby. </div><br /><div>By the way... its a go for the turkey baster proceedure tomorrow.</div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-87145638828828469052008-03-27T09:43:00.004-04:002008-03-27T09:50:02.770-04:00stupid uterusDon't tell me I have to put off the turkey baster proceedure AGAIN!!!!! I just noticed I'm spotting again....<br /><br />stupid uterus.Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-87156054711166445282008-03-26T09:40:00.004-04:002008-12-11T06:48:42.368-05:00cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5H5XyDTMy339F7wVR05gLYFuJsUBE3rrfshjW5XKGm4RrdZgL9iEcxsIdnkZ_MUD9Cib3Up8B1iQtmCkEXRQNF2iN1eqhQc2rgpk66ErmuHqQ9UlWnt968JcpjjStNAg81cqi5nc8SIFn/s1600-h/mob.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182045196650848898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5H5XyDTMy339F7wVR05gLYFuJsUBE3rrfshjW5XKGm4RrdZgL9iEcxsIdnkZ_MUD9Cib3Up8B1iQtmCkEXRQNF2iN1eqhQc2rgpk66ErmuHqQ9UlWnt968JcpjjStNAg81cqi5nc8SIFn/s400/mob.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p>OH MY GOD!!!! I can't believe this is happening to me! I'm sooo angry. I'm completely shocked. Just shocked. "WHAT?!?!??!" you say? Ohhhh.... I'm so confused. Where do I start???</p><p>So we've been pursuing adoption on top of getting fertility tests done. I've been working with that woman from the rez named Becca on the adoption thing. She had been a good contact since nobody else knew where to go about adopting native children. We were on her list of good canidates for any children needing homes. I Haden't heard from her for a while but I saw her a couple months ago at a ceremony. I only had time to asked her to e-mail me. She tells me she will ... but no response. Then I send Becca an e-mail last February asking for her phone number. No response. Hmmm... that's odd. </p><p>Meanwhile, I see my 6th grade neice at school a couple weeks ago. I ask her how the family is and she said, "Oh! My grandma (my biological mom) is sad." "Why?" "Well, she had a baby but then she lost it." Confused, I said, "WHAT??!!" My neice continues, "Yeah, I mean... a cousin had a baby but she couldn't take care of it so she gave it to my grandma. It was 2 months old. But they came and took it away from her so now she's sad. Oh... gotta go! Bye Auntie!" So this poor baby in the family has been on my mind lately. Who is it? Where did it come from? Where did it go? Boy or girl? Can we take it in??? </p><p>So my (biological) sister calls me last night to chat about something and I brought up what my neice told me. "Ohhh yea... Yeah, a cousin of ours had a baby but couldn't take care of her. This cousin keeps popping them out even though she really shouldn't be a mom. She's on drugs and all... so anyway, she gave the baby to our mom. Someone in the baby's family didn't like the idea of our mom having her so it was taken away. We don't like the woman who has the baby now... she doesn't even know how to take care of babies. I heard she was even asking someone how to change a diaper! She doesn't even have a husband or a boyfriend." </p><p>And then she told me the name of the woman who has the baby now.... it was Becca!!! I was shocked! I felt like I was hit with a ton of bricks! I told my sister that I had been working with Becca (maybe I said too much) with adoption and that for some reason she wasn't calling or e-mailing me back. "She's probably feeling guilty." Oh my god! What is going on here!!! </p><p>In a previous e-mail, Becca did say that she wanted to be a foster mom and would pursue adoption some day, "But I believe a baby should be placed with a couple first." </p><p>So after I got off the phone I just wanted to run and cry my eyes out. I felt completely betrayed and dazed! I've been checking my e-mail EVERY day for a response from her for a month! Could she be avoiding me?!?!! The possiblity of it all was overwhelming! </p><p>I hid my quivering voice as I told Ethan. Of course, he had to be the voice of reason.... which is really what I didn't want to hear at first!! I wanted him to react and say, "What!!?? That's bullshit!" or SOMETHING! I don't know.... light some torches, gather a pitchforked angry mob together and go marching down to her house! SOMETHING! All I got was a voice of reason, "Well... you don't know the whole story. If she does her job well, she'll know the best people to place the child with. Maybe she feels she is the best person for the child at this point." I wanted to fall into a heap and cry and cry and cry. I went for a drive and did just that. I drove up to an unfinished housing development on a hill, shut off the lights, and cried in the dark. The wind was so fierce that my car shook. I can't remember the last time I prayed so hard! The wind gave me comfort -I wasn't alone... at least there was SOMETHING sharing my fierce anger. There was, and still is, a knot in my stomach. </p><p>I don't know what to do.</p><p>I feel so .... betrayed. </p><p> </p>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-82029427191565591882008-03-26T08:44:00.006-04:002008-12-11T06:48:42.547-05:00spring cleaning poetry slam<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsBJQuwsiTEr9TTj7gdutyUPr4uyJbVbPZC9OviM-QxCVr2TWV99jLIHasf0_-7zo_zWle_FgurjNL7NQ3iS3UeNYZ02iCNklRKRqBnU7jtf3QKxdergtRvxsmkfLTt_O1FyD8KcOKMZy/s1600-h/cycle+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182040583855972946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsBJQuwsiTEr9TTj7gdutyUPr4uyJbVbPZC9OviM-QxCVr2TWV99jLIHasf0_-7zo_zWle_FgurjNL7NQ3iS3UeNYZ02iCNklRKRqBnU7jtf3QKxdergtRvxsmkfLTt_O1FyD8KcOKMZy/s200/cycle+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Ahhh yes, Spring has arrived... though nothing has actually sprung yet. Geese are flocking back home and the calendar says its Spring but the earth still sleeps. I enjoy the change of seasons. *this is the part where you sit back, take a sip of your coffee or other warm beverage of choice, and reflect on the warm, sweet breezes and chirping birds of Spring* Ahhhh.... </span><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">So my uterus finally did some shedding of the blood clots she has been holding onto so dearly. (That was gross. Sorry, I enjoy shock value tee hee) Now I get to have my uterus injected with dye (sarchastic "yay!") so my doctor can peer into it! Who knows what he'll find, but I picture bats flying around and cobwebs clinging to each dark corner of an empty cavern. </span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">"ECHO!! ECHO! Echo! echo! echo ech ec e" </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Maybe he can do a little dusting while he's in there... you know, a little Spring cleaning! </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Though Spring is lovely, it is also the ultimate reminder (slap in the face, if you will) of the fact that I don't have children or am not "of child" (that phrase continues to crack me up). I mean, during Spring it seems as though EVERYONE and EVERYTHING is bloated and pregnant! How depressing. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">I wrote a poem on this subject last year. I think I'll share it with you, whoever is reading this. A little background info: In my culture the Moon, who is considered our "grandmother", is responsible for the cycles of the women.</span> </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">~Untouched~</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">Grandmother Moon</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">throws her shadows</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">down my cheek merging</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">glistening wet</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">Spring swells</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">I am</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">pelted</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">with Vernal images of</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">bloating streams of</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">Robin's tango of</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">mud's nourishment - Growth</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">prepared</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">Dorment I remain - A winter state</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">forced upon me</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">by fate - Branded</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">by chance - Unlucky</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">by mistake - Forgotten,</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">I have no choice </span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ccccff;">and She passes me by</span></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-64422811780046042442008-03-10T11:12:00.005-04:002008-12-11T06:48:42.839-05:00like a deflated balloon...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihj8aMfTD5_MVksMzJbR1Z1M-vtWlRwFtTADXUoIhE03OBux_2DUVhxH_Fb-dN51usKdexKkROZF9YY8xbRmOQOwnOZJeJXGxtroAQLvUeoT8CruvDPmanaKoL7dSF8ID8AR-6_xEFNmQE/s1600-h/balloon1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176134701279118610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihj8aMfTD5_MVksMzJbR1Z1M-vtWlRwFtTADXUoIhE03OBux_2DUVhxH_Fb-dN51usKdexKkROZF9YY8xbRmOQOwnOZJeJXGxtroAQLvUeoT8CruvDPmanaKoL7dSF8ID8AR-6_xEFNmQE/s320/balloon1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#ffcc66;">...that's how I felt last Thursday morning when I came out of the gyno's office and walked to my car.</span> </div><br /><div></div><div><span style="color:#663333;"><span style="color:#ffcc66;">As I put my seatbelt on, little did I know that I was actually preparing myself for a ride in the ShittyDayMobile.</span> </span></div><div><span style="color:#663333;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc66cc;">So I went and got the pregnancy test done in preparation for the hysterosalpin-thingy. I gave the shotglass of pee to the nurse and waited in that small room with the stirrup table. Dr. Jolly St. Nick comes in and he says, "ahhh... still spotting I see. Hmmm... well... I don't think I'm going to do the proceedure tomorrow if thats the case. I don't want to start anything we don't want... namely an infection." This doctor is cool. I enjoy his twisted sense of humor and his odd facial expressions. "Yeah.... we're gonna be shooting stuff up there and we dont want any other (funny facial expression) stuff being pushed into your body cavity... lets just say you won't wanna come back to us if that happened!" So... we put off the dreaded hystero-thingie for another couple of weeks. Arg!</span></div><div><span style="color:#cc66cc;">I go to my car feeling like a deflated balloon. I JUST WANNA GET THE SHOW ON THE ROAD! My uterus is NOT listening to me. She insists on spotting for 3 weeks straight now. Damn.</span> </div><div></div><div><span style="color:#99ff99;">That was the first bump in the road for my Shitty Day ride. The next came with the news that my dad is not doing so well with his newly found cancer. He had a tumor removed from his bladder and the doctor thought it wasn't aggressive. Well, the biopsy indicated a level 3 tumor (I still don't know what that means) and that the bladder wasn't emptying all the way. On top of that, the bladder still had cancer cells in it... so they might have to remove it altogether. I'm very nervous about this... and of course I think about worst case scenerios. I then think about how my dad is waiting for another grandchild (my brother isn't having anymore... he got his junk tied) and ... what if he won't be able to see another one if this whole process is taking so long! I didn't cry though. I pushed those fears away and thought positively. Fuckin' A. </span></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="color:#66cccc;">So then I go to work. I work with 3rd graders in an after school program. We play games in the gym, do crafts, etc. These 3rd graders are VERY difficult sometimes. Since I have the biggest group (12 kids) I have another woman helping me. This woman is no help whatsoever... and these kids don't listen! I get very stressed out some days. </span></div><div><span style="color:#66cccc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#66cccc;">We went to their classroom to pick them up and some were taking too long to get their stuff ready. I decided to stay with the stragglers while Miss Clueless brought the others to the cafeteria...or so I thought. Maybe it was lack of communication (then again, do I have to tell her everything!?!?!) but Miss Clueless went to the library and let the kids go to the cafeteria by themselves. I get to the cafeteria no more than 2 minutes later to see my boss peering out of her office at the group. The kids weren't misbehaving... they were getting the games out as usual. </span></div><div><span style="color:#66cccc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#66cccc;">Her boytoy Jim (who doesn't seem to have a purpose there but to follow my MARRIED boss around with ga ga eyes) comes out of the office and says, "Ummm.. Sadie... can I talk to you for a minute?" He sounded concerned and my blood started to boil. He's not my boss. He proceeded to tell me that under no circumstances were the kids allowed to be unattended in the cafeteria. (Even though my boss' office is located IN the cafeteria) "They can't be allowed to run off ahead of you." My jaw clenched. He then proceeded to tell me that I had to be more firm and "not so wishy washy" with kids. I didn't have the energy to explain what happened. "You gotta yell at them. You have to let them know who's boss or they'll run all over you." I was pissed. I walked away and Jim went back to my boss' office to do his usual chit chat / flirting shit. (He's got a girlfriend and daughters too!)</span><span style="color:#66cccc;"> So I got a talking to about how I don't know how to work with kids. Just great.</span> </div><div></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc66;">The last time I cried my eyes out to the point of not being able to breathe was when my grandma died last May. I cried this hard on the way home in the car. </span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc66;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc66;">You know what? Blow me!</span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-21691877420079464792008-03-05T19:55:00.008-05:002008-12-11T06:48:43.495-05:00you are invited to Sadie's Pity Party! Time: whenever. Date: right now. RSVP by commenting this blog.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Gpq_FMhfPmM715v5cLYniIEEgbXHHKFxHZxUeiIAsBCO9sMbAs4dOARcf2Znew3lVqVN48unuDdakVOoocEpO1G4uLCC5Tk6YWq86NQ-G3HiMHdCK39zSm3NE27rCy-BGf3OkH7TPou0/s1600-h/pity.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176127558748505346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Gpq_FMhfPmM715v5cLYniIEEgbXHHKFxHZxUeiIAsBCO9sMbAs4dOARcf2Znew3lVqVN48unuDdakVOoocEpO1G4uLCC5Tk6YWq86NQ-G3HiMHdCK39zSm3NE27rCy-BGf3OkH7TPou0/s320/pity.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">WELCOME TO MY PITY PARTY! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I think I'll have some cheese with my Whine!</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Grab a seat, have some cocktail weenies and listen to me rant... and oh yeah, gifts go on the table in the corner!</span></div><div align="left"> </div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I can't stand hearing stories about shitty parenting. I can't stand listening to parents complain about their <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">children</span>. I can't stand people who don't pay attention to their children. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Anyone who is having a hard time conceiving has said this at one point or another: "We'd be great parents! Why do THEY get to be parents and we don't???? Its NOT FAIR!" ...and its not.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">"THEY" are the people you see who are definitely NOT deserving of children. I know its not my place to judge others.... but ya know, some people just need to get fixed! They're all around me! </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">1. My husband's cousin, as is the case with a lot of native girls, had a baby just for the sake of having one. She is, to put it nicely, plus sized. Not that being a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">plus</span> sized woman is wrong or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">un</span>-attractive.... but his cousin - DEFINITELY NOT attractive and she is known for being a bitch. (Yes, there I go judging again. I'm sorry! Its true!) Not to be harsh (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ok</span>, maybe just a little) but she was determined to find any man who would be willing to fuck her just to get pregnant. She didn't care who he was as long as he could squirt out some baby batter. For some reason, she saw having a baby as a status thing. So she found a man, got knocked up, and dumped him. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">She treats her daughter as an accessory... like a Gucci handbag or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Prada</span> sunglasses. She dresses her daughter in coordinating colors that match her own outfits. This baby has a wardrobe that could clothe all the children in China! The child gets WHATEVER she wants at the slightest whine. She is 3 years old now and is severly overweight. Nobody can even hold her because she is so heavy! (I'm thinking she is 50 lbs if I'm not mistaken) I know genetics are in the mix, but this cousin feeds her pizza and chips like theres no tomorrow!!! The child can't breathe at night and gets winded walking! Everyone in the family looks upon this cousin in disgust but won't say anything because she'll fly off the handle. Now the child is becoming a setback to her party life. At a party recently, she told everyone that she wanted gypsies to come and take her daughter away! The room fell silent. If you don't want to grow up, don't have a kid!!! Chorus: ITS NOT FAIR!</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">2. This is a sad situation. My sister-in law's husband left her (again). He left her with 3 kids (two toddlers and an infant) and NO hot water in the house. He had left her at least 3 times before (that I can count) and he always came slithering back. Nobody in the family knows why the hell she married him in the first place... he's such a loser. I hope this time she doesn't take him back. The family can help her out for now.... but I seriously don't know what she's gonna do. He blatently said he wasn't going to give her money for the kids (not that he had before... he drank all his money away). UGGGGG!! I can't stand people who care about themselves more than they care about their kids!!!!!! Chorus: ITS NOT FAIR!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">3. The saddest thing I can think of is abortion. (And no, I'm not a bible thumper...not everyone against abortions is). Ok, let me clarify that since the subject is broad. I can't stand people who use abortion as birth control! My ex-boyfriend's sister came home one night crying her eyes out. The only person she'd talk to was her brother. I overheard the conversation. Apparently she had just had an abortion. She said she wasn't ready to have kids ... she didn't want kids... her social life would have been ruined, etc. etc. In the end, her brother convinced her that it was the right thing to do and that if it happened again he'd help her get another abortion ...if she needed. Needless to say, he's not my ex for no reason! I felt so sad that night. I remembered my mom telling me how she had to wait 5 years for a baby to adopt, "because thats when the pill and abortions first came around... there were no babies!" Why do people automatically think abortion and not adoption when they have an unwanted pregnancy??? There are soooo many waiting couples out there! Chorus: ITS NOT FAIR!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I could go on and on - especially when describing what I saw in Walmart the other day.... but the party is over *sigh* Everyone go home now.</span></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-841359128004008074.post-2251921059879453112008-03-04T09:52:00.007-05:002008-12-11T06:48:43.702-05:00col. Mustard killed Aunt Flo in the library with the turkey baster<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOfbs1Xa3zJmqL5TEFFM2cu3AtUvyCi74l5h_i6glG3d5PDSJYqlfwA07SvlWUES3k9s3ixaJxqrnpsGrX_y_b_7pz8l_-ua4QrzI12Hw7M5hV8-HVshE-tvC1dtMRsUJ2BJcXuGFzael/s1600-h/turkey_baster.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173906425998271794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOfbs1Xa3zJmqL5TEFFM2cu3AtUvyCi74l5h_i6glG3d5PDSJYqlfwA07SvlWUES3k9s3ixaJxqrnpsGrX_y_b_7pz8l_-ua4QrzI12Hw7M5hV8-HVshE-tvC1dtMRsUJ2BJcXuGFzael/s200/turkey_baster.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">I'm going to start off this blog by saying, </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCC</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">CCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">Ahh... there. Thats better. A little primal scream never hurt anybody, right? Ok, maybe I'm over reacting... but this period thing is not behaving WHATSOEVER! You'd think that a person who rarely sees her ol' red-headed Aunt Flo would be happy at the sight of her. Ususally when I get my period, I'm happy that my biological parts are still working! Until I saw a doctor, I was always afraid that they'd never come back.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">Have you ever found yourself talking to your uturus, perhaps cheering it on, when you finally get a period? "Good job old gal! You're doing great! Keep it up! Rah Rah Rah!!!" </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong>My roller coaster ride, thus far, in a nutshell</strong>:</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">1. October - Dr. tells me to wait until the end of my next period to schedule a hysterosalpingogram. (I'm getting good at spelling that!)</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">2. I get my period a few months ago (which is very elusive, mind you!) and try to schedule an appointment... Miss Bird Brain receptionist at the Dr's office informs me that the nurse who normally schedules those appointments is not in for another 2 weeks. She doesn't know how to do it... but she'll talk to the doctor about it. ..... she never gets back to me. For some reason I say to myself, "fuck it!" and don't call back. </span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">3. I wait and wait for another period... doesn't happen. I call the Dr. and they tell me I can just have a pregnancy test done to make sure I'm not pregnant (Ha! Thats funny). THEN they scheduled a hystero-thingie for the following Friday. </span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">4. So I've been psyching myself out for months thinking about this proceedure...don't know what to expect...and the appointment finally comes up. BUT...the doctor gets the flu and can't perform it. They re-schedule for March 8th. (Yeah... we're in March now!)</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">5. So here it is, March 4th, four days before the test.... AND I GET MY PERIOD! They can't perform the test if I'm having my period... so yes... I have to re-schedule, yet again!!!!! ARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">I never thought I'd be frustrated about NOT being able to shove dye up into my uterus with, what I think of the instrument as, a turkey baster.</span> <div></div><br /></div><div></div>Sadie Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07278863928471213873noreply@blogger.com2