This Part Again, Part Two

Well, shit.

In some ways I’m getting used to the drill, and in other ways it’s getting harder each try.

I could tell form earlier signs that I wasn’t pregnant this month. But to screw with my head, my temperature stayed relatively high (until this morning) AND I got a highly questionable pee stick last night.

It’s a million degrees plus a million percent humidity with a million point mosquito index here. Last night, after we took some cold showers just to survive going to sleep, I looked over at the test I’d taken a couple hours earlier. While there was only one line when I looked at the thing after 3 minutes, there was a definite vertical line (though faint) when I looked again this time. We freaked. I immediately peed on a different kind of test, which said NO. So I rubbed the damn progesterone cream on one more time and tried to sleep.

Today, I scoured the interweb for information about fertility. And guess what? While trying to be all earth-friendly and chemical-free, I may have been pumping up my estrogen, making it harder to conceive! I was reading about herbs and conception when I saw that lavender oil should be avoided. Who knew? Not the person who puts homemade deodorant featuring lavender oil under her pits every freakin’ day!!!

Speaking of sad… I went to my first ever grief support group last night. It just gets more fun ’round these parts! Well, the group is just starting, so it was just me, a guy who just lost his partner of 27 years, and the group leader. The poor guy is only 49, and he was a teary wreck before we even got in the room. I did my share of tearing up—pretty much any time the facilitator asked me a direct question about my dad or whenever I had to say the words “my dad.” But talking with the grieving guy, I realized that, though traumatizing, I got such an amazing gift when K didn’t die in ’08 and that we still have opportunities ahead of us, like having a child. While every egg that bites the dust is like a slap in my old, wrinkly face, at least K and I are still both here to try.

Suck on that, grief.


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(Disclaimer: No men were harmed in the making of this blog.)

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