Archives For June 2013

It’s been a while since I’ve gone back to my timeline.  Since Author S took the first brave step and told part of her story I thought it was time for me to buck up and do the same.   Can’t be the wuss in this duo of bloggers.  So it’s my turn to suck it up and open up.

So remember my grand plan?  To do the deed once or twice during days 10-20 using the trusty ovulation strips to have our planned oops??  Well if that worked this website would not exist.

We did our do diligence –

Day 1:  get period.

Day 2:  Drink through the disappointment.

Day 10:  Start peeing on ovulation sticks.

Day 10-20:  Do the deed whenever possible.

Day 28:  Pee on pregnancy test…. and cry.  Go back to the beginning.

Day 1:  Get Period.

Those damn Day 1’s kept on coming.  And by early November it had been 10 months since we pulled the goalie and our strategy for an empty net had failed to help us score.  I was 3 weeks away from that big scary age of 35.  And another month gone by that our oops never happened.

Sometimes you just know yourself and your body and I knew my oops wasn’t coming.  No other way to explain it – I just knew I needed an “evaluation”.  I’m no gynecologist but I’m a doctor with access to doctor type materials so I read the guidelines:  the fancy instructions tell you that if you’re less than 35 you should see a fertility specialist after a year of trying.  If you’re over 35 you get some help after 6 months of trying.  Well I was 34.9 years of age so I figured 10 months was ok to at least talk to my Gyne about seeing a specialist and asking some questions.

So one day, as we lay in bed last November I nervously started a conversation with my husband.  Maybe It was time to stop closing our eyes and crossing our fingers hoping and/or planning for that oops.  What if something was wrong?  Usually I’m a spaz and his job is to tell me I’m overreacting.  Except this time he agreed I was right.  I called my OB – time to get the netherlands checked.

Stay tuned – this story is just beginning.

Love Author M


Go Blackhawks!


Love Author S&M

I’m sure Author S is asleep but I just got home late from work to some celebrity”news”… I almost want to call her and wake her up to get the reaction.  if you’ve been reading our blog you know Author S gets borderline psychopathic when she hears about stupid celebrity baby names.

Please refer to one of our first blogs from Author S:
Only other thing that makes her blood boil more is silly Kardashian-isms. Well – apparently KimK and Kanye haved named their child and I think this might be the thing that finally throws her over the edge.
KimK and Kanye’s child’s name is… (drumroll please….)


NORTH.   As in NORTH WEST.  That’s a direction.

WHAT!!!??! Does anyone know the combined IQ of these two (who are now parents before I am btw)?  I can’t give my future kid a stupid name because I can’t afford rehab and therapy like KimK and KW can.  But if they ever lose their fame this kid is in a world of hurt in high school.

All I know is I could have thought of a million better names.  Even fusion names such as Kimye, Kanberly, Kanki, Kiye or Kakye would have been better.

Oh man wait till Author S hears about this.  She’s gonna throw a tantrum.  I can’t wait!!!!  (Insert evil laugh here).

Love Author M

Ok, I know I took a little hiatus from my posts. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell the last part of the story. I promise, this is the last post for April 2012.

After my friend and I spent several minutes squinting at the ultrasound screen, trying to look for that little blip that would indicate a life form, and finding ourselves unsuccessful, I went back to finish my shift. Believe me, I spent most of that night shift distracted by what was going on in my nether region. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, but I wasn’t ready to accept the big picture.

My birthday falls at the end of April. On the day of my birthday, my husband had planned dinner for the two of us at a great Chicago restaurant, knowing that I’m a foodie. We got dressed up and went out for our “date”. I started to feel a little uncomfortable, a strange heaviness in my pelvis. Maybe this was a new, I-need-to-pee sensation in pregnancy, so I excused myself and went to the ladies room. As soon as I sat down on the toilet, I looked down to find a dark, brown spot on my underwear. WTF??!! I went a little numb. My mind tried to make sense of what I was seeing and tried to come up with a reasonable explanation that would not include the terrible thing I was worried about, the worst case scenario. This was my fucking birthday! How could this brown spot show up to ruin it??!!

I did what any rational woman would do…I decided to ignore it. Maybe it would just go away. I went back to the table, smiled at my husband as I sat down, and resumed our dinner. He can read me like a book, and at one point asked me if something was wrong. I just shook my head, determined to have a good time, dammit.

Shockingly, the spot did not go away and only continued to get worse. Very slowly, at first. I told myself not to panic as I went to bed that night and decided to deal with the situation in the morning. Somehow, I fell asleep that night. In the morning, reality really began to set in. I had to deal with the situation at hand because it was not going away and was most likely going to get worse. So, I decided to call my Ob. I had barely established care with them; my first appointment would not have been for another week or two. The woman on the phone was very polite and asked me a few questions about the bleeding and then directed me to the nurse practitioner (NP). The NP was also very polite but the tone of her voice made it sound like this was all very routine and not a big deal. My irritation only grew when she directed me to go to the E.R. instead of having me come into the office. They couldn’t possibly fit me in that day but she was sure the E.R. would be able to check me out. Right. Like I have 8 hours to waste sitting in a waiting room. I know what E.R.’s are for – EMERGENCIES. I wasn’t having a life ending emergency. I was just on the verge of having a panic attack because I didn’t know what was happening. How was going to the cold, clinical environment of an E.R. going to make that better?

After mulling over my options (there really weren’t that many), I headed to the E.R., where I was eventually whisked off for an ultrasound. I stared at the screen as the ultrasound tech moved the probe around. The space that was supposed to be nice and round with an embryo inside was empty and looked like a sac that was about to collapse on itself. It looked like a uterus that had given up. To see it on the big screen was so final, and left no doubt in my mind that I was having a miscarriage. Had anything even existed inside of me? Had I even managed to start life within me, or had the egg gone AWOL right from the get go? Why had I even been given this false hope? How long had I been walking around thinking that I was pregnant (fantasizing about, planning for it, talking about it) when, in fact, I actually wasn’t?

It was this last question that bothered me the most. My uterus had deceived me. How could I ever trust it again?

Author S


June 16, 2013 — 2 Comments

Happy Father’s Day to every Dad, Dad-to-be and Wannabe-a-Dad-someday!!!  We talk so much about our uteri gotta give it up for the manparts every once in awhile 🙂

Love Author S&M

It’s been a tough few days in the Author M household.  Since we’re telling our stories retrospectively (which I’ve been doing a poor job of btw), I won’t give away the punchline.  But basically it’s been hard for me to write anything the past several days.  I had been feeling like I couldn’t look forward even though I tried, and didn’t want to look back.  I could only… Be.  Everything around me looked like crap and I was sitting in it.

But just when I thought my shit was the shittiest shit in the world – I heard a story.  A friend told me a tale of their shit and what they’re going through because of it.  And their shit is so big and gross and stinky – it’s just unbelievable.  And I realized that my shit – well it’s just a small little turd in the grand scheme of shits.  It’s not as bad as I thought and frankly, I’ll live to shit another day.

So I’ve finally decided it’s time for me to live another day… and write something.  Even if it is about poop.

OH COME ON!!!! Didn’t know you were pregnant until jogging made your baby fall out???

Here’s the disclaimer for this post:  We really do love our mothers.  And one day we hope to be as wonderful and annoying to our children as they are to us.

Growing up, we were clueless so we looked up to our mothers for comfort and advice.  Somehow, mom always knew what to say to set things right. And if she didn’t have the right words, she would inevitably offer food as a means of comfort.  Later on as teenagers, we continued to listen to our moms, perhaps partially out of habit, even though we didn’t always like what they had to say.  Still they were often right when our juvenile emotions led to stupidity.

Then – you get older and you grow a brain and start to think for yourself.  Suddenly, Mommy’s words of wisdom are sometimes not as “Money” as they used to be.  You realize although she was the master of life advice when you were 10, some of the pearls now offered are a little out of date.  In addition you realize much of her advice is not quite based on scientific fact and be may coming from an alternate universe (or from early onset dementia).  This realization is further amplified when you grow up to be a doctor and your mother tries to give you medical advice that she swears is the cure for all your body’s problems.

But nonetheless we are good daughters and listen to Mommy’s advice over the phone, and offer our “Yes you’re Right”‘s and “Uh-huh”‘s to them, all the while practicing our eye rolls and make finger guns to our heads on the other end of the line.

Our Mother’s combined have offered us much advice on what we can do to create a fetus or why it’s taking too long to create a fetus.  We’ve decided to share this wealth of advice to all of you so may also employ it in your quest for mommyhood.  And if you’re not trying to be a mommy then share it with your friends who are. Or just share it because it’s hilarity.  These tidbits of love from our Mothers will be read much more enjoyably if you read the below mother statements with an Indian accent…

“This is because you do all that crazy exercising”  (You mean the 20 minutes I do on level 1 on the elliptical is killing my eggs?  Yes I better stop because I hear obesity is good for fertility)

“This is because you don’t take it easy.  You don’t have to go out with your friends for dinner you can stay home and rest”  (Yes, you’re right.  Getting in my car, walking into a restaurant, sitting on my ass and stuffing my face is probably a lot of stress on my uterus). 

“This is because you do all that dieting you should eat more”  (But wait then shouldn’t I go out to dinner with my friends more and eat shitty food?  This is confusing)

“This is because you do too much heavy lifting.  You should stop vacuuming”  (Ummm, ok thanks good idea.  I’ll send you the bill for the cleaning lady)

“Are you sure that the dog isn’t preventing you from getting pregnant.” (Yes the dog must be kicking me in the uterus while I’m not looking.  Better drop him off at the humane society stat.)

“You just need to relax and let it happen”.  (There’s that word again – relax.  YOU RELAX DAMNIT!! )

“You need to stop obsessing about getting pregnant then it will happen”  (But you’ve only been asking for a grandchild since the first day I got married!  You’ve planted the seeds of my obsession!)

“If you do this prayer and do this ceremony then it will happen” (Maybe… but first I gotta find a temple.  Can’t you do it for me Mommy?  And while you’re at it make me some Indian food?  Please?). 

“Next time you need a procedure I’m going to come to the Doctor’s office and I want to talk to him.  And then you have to rest I’m going to stay with you for a week or you come home to our place for a week.”  (OMG NO.  You just told me to relax – this would not happen with this plan. That and I think my doctor will hate me for being trapped in a room with my Mommy answering an hour’s worth of questions I already know the answer to).

God bless our Moms they are so sweet for caring about our uteri.  We love them dearly.  But we’re gonna leave the babymaking and pregnancy advice to our Doctors and the all knowledgeable Google.

Till next time!

Love Authors S & M

Me:  Hi there – what brings you in today?  

Patient:  I feel like I’m having pain “down there” and I feel nauseas and I have heartburn.  Sometimes it feels like there is a ball down there that’s moving around. 

Me in my head:  Yes idiot it’s called being pregnant and your baby is moving. This is a good thing. 

Me:  What number pregnancy is this for you?  How far along are you?

Patient:  Almost 18 weeks. This is my 5th pregnancy…  Hey Doc –  Do you think I’m just feeling all these symptoms because my last 2 pregnancies I smoked pot and didn’t notice these things?

Me in my head:  This bitch is on her 5th pregnancy and I’m working on pregnancy # zero.  My stethoscope is accidentally gonna fly into her face. 

Things That Make Author M Angry: Stupid Patients