On what he said:
Fuck... you don't hafta tell me that. I already know.




.... where is the Creator????

p.s. I'm drunk.

regarding 3/26/08 and the notion of being betrayed

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.

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).

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 couple, 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.

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...

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.

I keep thinking about that baby girl...

...but I will continue to keep the faith

and know that

whatever that is meant to be

will be.

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...

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.


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.

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... "

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.

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!

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!

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!

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!!!!

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.

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.

depression sets in on this rainy september day

I'm having a moment of depression.

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.

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!

As I flipped through the folder in a daze I 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!

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.

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.

I just want to have a baby like a normal person would GOD DAMN IT!
Fuck you God.

roller 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.

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 her 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!

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.

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."

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...

(...*ENVELOPE RIPPING* ...SADIE MARIE! FOR HER ROLE IN 'SHADY SITUATIONS' - APPLAUSE APPLAUSE APPLAUSE)

belly button blues

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.
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!
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.
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.

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.

I just gotta say...
ITS TOTALLY FREAKING ME OUT!!!!!!!!!!!

hey... are you staring at my uterus?!

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.

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.

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).

Seppuku (切腹, Seppuku? "stomach-cutting") is a form of Japanese ritual suicide by disembowelment. Seppuku was originally reserved only for samurai. 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.

After that morning, I 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!

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.

The Results Are In:

1. My ovaries looked good... though the left fallopian tube is still clogged even after the power washing.

2. My uterus is bigger than normal and it is oddly shapen.

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.

4. Once inside the uterus he saw no polyps or fibroids which is good.

I have to see some sort of specialist. I now feel like a freakish alien with a giant uterus. How normal is this??

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!

I'm glad my doctor is optimistic. At least its another few pieces to the no baby puzzle.

Time to pop another happy flying pill!