Friday, February 21, 2014


So, wow!  People still read this blog!  Thanks for the comment and the messages to me personally - they are very nice to get!

I figured that I'd clarify two things from my last post.  I wrote it hurriedly while on a conference call and there were two things that probably need clarifying.

First, when I said my family is happy except for my dad, I kind of need to put an asterisk next to that...because my dad doesn't really get happy about anything.  He's very factual and not emotional (think Sheldon from "The Big Bang Theory").  And because he's a doctor he knows the risks of miscarrying in the first trimester so his first bit of advice was "try not to get attached." I shit you not.

But he's supportive of me.  He acknowledges that I'm pregnant, asks how I'm feeling, and lets me know that he's praying for me.  In my dad's book, this is VERY supportive.  But no, I wouldn't classify that as "happy."

Secondly, when I said that some the ladies in the Single Mothers By Choice group were jealous, it came off like I was thinking that they didn't like me because I was so awesome.  I mean, YOU know that I'm so awesome, but chances are these ladies haven't realized it yet. 

This group is made up of people that are thinking about doing this, trying to do this, or actually ARE doing this.  And unfortunately, many, many people come to the group in their 40s wanting to have babies because they haven't found the right person yet.  And by then (and I swear I'm not trying to scare any of you), it's too late.  That's right - all the stuff people told me growing up of "You have plenty of time!" isn't true.  The reality is, we kind of don't.  Sure, you can look at the Halle Berry's of the world and think about how she is able to have fully healthy babies after 40.  But what you don't know is what goes on behind the scene - she probably had IVF done (which is SUPER expensive to the average person) to make sure that there were no genetic defects and was monitored by lots of doctors to make sure that the pregnancy was going along as planned.  Even then, you don't know how many tries it took to get her this far.

The average woman doesn't have unlimited tries and resources to get pregnant.

So when I say that they're jealous, what I mean is that I got pregnant on the first try.  Without any drugs to trigger ovulation or beef up my egg quality.  And sometimes it's hard to talk to another woman who has been trying for 5 years and has even gone down the path of egg donation (getting another woman to donate her eggs and then fertilizing it with donor sperm to put into the original woman to try to carry) and for me to say that I got pregnant on the first try.

It's not that they don't like's that sometimes it's hard to have a conversation with someone that doesn't realize just how lucky they are when you want that more than anything else.

What they may not realize is that I get that too.  Having just gone through Valentine's Day hearing about everyone's plans, gifts, cards, etc. wasn't the most fun I've ever had.  Of course I want to get married and have a partner.  So I get it and I at least can recognize that I am lucky to be able to be successful on the first try.

So what am I most worried about?  That the yogurt that I didn't realize was expired until AFTER I ate it won't cause my baby to have to wear an eye patch for his whole life.  Or that because I feel fine and have no morning sickness that it means that something is wrong with my baby.  I'm worried that I don't eat nutritiously enough or that the two Girl Scout cookies I had last night will cause my child to struggle with weight their whole life just as I have.

From what I understand, that worry about my child doesn't go away.  Ever.

Even for Halle Berry.

Monday, February 17, 2014

I don't even know where to begin...

Hi there!

So much has happened since I last wrote that part of me wonders whether it's even worth continuing on this blog...

First, the awesome boyfriend that I've known for years (and years) and was dating this summer?  Yeah...that didn't work out.  He is a fantastic person, but he has a significant drinking problem.  When he contacted me via Facebook, I specifically asked how long it had been and his answer was "a long time."  He also said that he and his ex had been over for "a really long time."  Turns out "a long time" is relative.  He stayed sober the entire time we were together, but when I left for a trip in the fall, I came back home to find him completely blotto-ed on my couch.  I nursed him back to health (which was probably the most traumatic experience of my life) and then took him to his parents.  He hasn't been able to stay sober for longer than 3 weeks since then and even then I think that was only one stint.

In some ways, it was hard to say goodbye to him.  Especially since I ostracized two people that meant something to me just to date him.  But going through what I did - all that worry and drama is just not healthy.  And I want a healthy relationship.  I might sound cold about it but I think that's because I've processed through it and to be honest, it feels like it happened "a long time ago."

Separately (and it's important that I stress that this is not linked to the breakup!), I resurfaced the thought about having a child by myself.  As you might remember (hello, post below from October of 2012), I've been thinking about this for a while and I did a LOT of soul searching in late summer to figure out if this was the right choice for me.

After researching lots of different methods, I found a choice that felt right to me.  I planned and was finally able to get the green light to try.

And I'm pregnant!

My first attempt worked and I'll likely give birth at the end of September.

I'm REALLY happy about this choice and sometimes feel overwhelmed...but from talking to my friends that have been moms, they all say it's normal.

It's tough to do this by myself.  I found out I was pregnant at 2 AM and called my mom and woke her up.  My first ultrasound where I heard the heartbeat had me in tears and more than a little wishful that someone else was there to share in my joy and relief.  I did record the heartbeat and sent it to my family.

My family? They're super happy.  Well, except for my dad, the doctor, whose first response after me telling him I was pregnant was, "You're kidding."  To be clear, he's known that I was going through the process...but I don't think he (or anyone really) expected it to take on the first try.

I'm not making it public on Facebook yet (so please refrain if you know me in real life).  I'll announce after I get the 12 week ultrasound.  I have a few more weeks to decide what to share and how.

There is a support group that I've joined - called Single Mothers by Choice.  They have a Denver chapter and almost all the women have been really supportive of me.  Others are jealous or just plain old cranky.  I guess they're allowed to be that way since they're pregnant too.

Anyway, I'm happy.  The baby is healthy.  And life is good.

Thursday, October 04, 2012

The truth is...

The truth is...I've missed blogging.  Actually, I've missed blogging a lot.

So much has happened since I last wrote that sometimes it just feels easier to skip it all together.  I find myself asking, "How do I give context?"

But the truth is?  I started this blog with no context for any of you...especially those who happened to find me somewhere along the way.

So, since we're on this subject, here are many of my truths:

1.  I hate dating.  Okay, this you probably already knew.  But it feels a bit cathartic to actually write it.

2.  I want a baby.  Badly.  Not like I'm going to go all "Raising Arizona" on some unsuspecting family but bad enough that I am seriously considering sperm donors.  Wow.  That also feels cathartic to write that.  Out loud.  Ish.

3.  I've been in my new house for a year.  One year and I'm still wondering if I did the right thing by breaking up with Joe.  Because sometimes, I get lonely.  And while I know firsthand that just because you're "with" someone doesn't mean that you don't ever feel lonely, it still sometimes eats at me.  Because sometimes it's hard to forget the comfort and consistency that I found in his friendship.

4.  I've gained back every ounce of weight I've ever lost.  And wow if that doesn't tend to fuck with your confidence regarding my first point.  The thing is?  As I get older, I'm starting to realize that guys mind a lot less than they ever have before.  Unless you count my dad.  Nothing's changed there...he's still a dick to women who are over 100 pounds.

5.   I love my job.  I mean, I LURRRVE my job.  For the record, I switched companies in April and I now work for a company that a certain sitcom likes to call Kabletown.  Some days, I can't believe that they're paying me as well as they do to have as much fun as I have.  I work in a supportive environment - one where I'm rewarded, praised, challenged, and accepted.  Also, I get free cable.  So yeah, I love this company.

6.  My first "real" boyfriend found me on FaceBook and friended me.  That happened about a month ago.  It's still weird.  And I wonder if he's checked out my pictures, my posts, and anything about me.  Don't get me wrong, I don't wonder this because there is any love for him still; he seems to be happily married and that's great.  I think I feel weird because I was completely heartbroken when we broke up...and I was the one that dumped him.  I just changed my mind about a day later and was an absolute mess and he knew it.  I'd like to think that almost 20 years later, he's forgotten about it...but it's still kind of weird.

7.  I love HBO's "The Newsroom."  They just finished showing their first season and it's no longer on Video On Demand.  But I love it.  A lot.  And I want to recommend it to anyone.  It's by Aaron Sorkin - the guy who brought you "The West Wing," "Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip," and "The American President."  So yes, it's liberalish.  But it's also fast paced, witty, and absolutely delightful.

8.  I have adopted two orange tabby cats in January.  They're brothers.  Their names?  Oliver and Fat Gordon. And sometimes?  I can't tell them apart.   

9.  I have listened to "El Camino" by Amos Lee several times as I have been writing.  His voice feels like it's snowing outside and I'm inside, bundled under covers, in a favorite sweatshirt and fun pants, sipping hot cocoa.  Listening to his music is like being hugged...only with less groping.  Probably.

10.  I can't think of a tenth thing.

Until next time...

Monday, February 13, 2012

No, it really *is* a toothbrush...

Last week, I went on a business trip to a small town in North Carolina. I'd like to say that I had fun, but I like that this is a place where I can be honest. Like this time.

Anyway, right before leaving my hotel room, I usually do a sweep of the whole place to make sure that I leave nothing behind. But the day I checked out, I felt confident. I mean, I KNEW I had packed everything.

Except that apparently, I didn't.

I forgot my electric toothbrush. And it's an awesome one.

So I called the next day (after realizing that I left it behind) and had a conversation that went like this with the lady at the front desk:

Lady: Hi. Good morning. I'm in a crappy mood. I'm going to ask how I can help you, but I don't really want to help you.

Me: Fabulous. Say, I checked out of your fine hotel yesterday morning and I realized last night that I left something there. I stayed in room 115. Can you tell me if your housekeeping staff noticed an electric toothbrush?

Lady: Did they notice one? Well, I mean, they probably did.

Me: Great. Could someone send it to me?

Lady: You really want us to mail you your toothbrush back? Can't you just buy another one?

Me: Well, it's an electric toothbrush.

Lady: Huh?

Me: It's electric. It vibrates? So it gets your teeth really clean? It's made by SonicCare? They're not really cheap. So if they did find it, could you all send it?

Lady: Wait. HA! Oh. I know what you mean. It's a vibrating "toothbrush." Hahahaha Yeah. We find those "toothbrushes" kind of often. But I've never had someone ask me to send theirs to them.

Me: Um. No. I don't mean a vibrator. I mean it actually is a toothbrush.

Lady: Uh-huh. Well, let me ask the housekeeping department and we'll hit you back if we found anything like what you're describing.

Me: Uh...thanks.

And scene.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Just a friendly Public Safety Announcement

Last week, a co-worker named Stacey quit.  She found a better, higher paying opportunity but the real reason she quit is that she couldn't stand her boss.  In fact, no one can really stand the boss - it's not a secret.

As is typical in my workplace, another co-worker sent out an email inviting people to meet up on Friday to celebrate with Stacey.

So the email went out to probably 15 of us asking us to forward on to anyone else we thought was cool enough to be in attendance.

One of the people invited, Chuck, wrote to Stacey and a few others this:

"Alright!  I'll come!  And I'll bring the (insert Stacey's boss' name here) pinata!"

Okay.  So that's funny.  Because I don't know anyone who wouldn't at least fantasize about hitting this person with a stick.

But what he didn't realize is that he also sent this to Stacey's boss.


Stacey's boss immediately forwarded the email on to our Human Resources person filing a grievance against Chuck stating that she felt that her life was being threatened.

At Stacey's exit interview, our HR person said "Oh, and I won't be able to make it out for your going away celebration.  I have other plans."  Apparently SHE thought that when she was forwarded the email by Stacey's boss that she was actually being invited.

Seriously.  I can't make this crap up. 

Also? Check your To:, cc:, and bcc: fields before sending.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

I'm a two

This morning I had my yearly check-me-for-moles-and-skin-cancer appointment.  It's important to have those appointments for everyone - but especially for us pasty people.

I ended up arriving early* and got seated into the exam room pretty quickly by an overly-exuberant guy.  I don't know what his function is but he's also the guy who answers the phone sometimes and also books follow up appointments. 

Anyway, we're in a closed room and he's asking me all the standard questions and then he looks at me critically and says, "Oh.  You're a two."

I must've looked a bit surprised...I mean, here I was, at 7:30 in the morning, looking as cute as I could muster without having a full mug of coffee, but wow.  Honesty hurts.

Because as soon as this dude leaves the door, I've got to strip down for a hot doctor to check my skin.  As in every inch of my body.  Under the ever so complimentary fluorescent lights.  And if anything bolsters my confidence in these situations, it's having someone look at you critically and then rank you. 


So then he laughs and turns bright red and explains that "two" is just a way to describe people's skin color.  1 is people who are albino, 2 are people "like me", 3 are "typical" Caucasians, 4 are people who are Hispanic, and 5 are people who are "super dark."  I didn't ask where Asians and any other ethnicity fell into place because I felt pretty certain I could fill in the blanks.

So I made some paltry excuse of a joke like, "Wow.  Sorry. I thought you meant something else at first.  I just haven't had my coffee yet." And I pointed to the travel mug on the table next to me.

Then, he stammers, and says, "No.  You're a hottie. I definitely wasn't rating you as a two."

I just blinked.  Because, now what does one say?

He blushes, then says, "Sorry, I'm not thinking.  I haven't had any coffee yet.  Can I smell yours?"

Um.  What?

Oh! He means my coffee.

Nope.  That doesn't make it any less weird.

I opted to laugh as if he was kidding.  He laughed.  And then gave me a paper gown.

But you know what?  I'm super appreciative of him - because no matter how compliments come about, it was nice to receive one. 

Even when I'm a two.

* This is a huge accomplishment.  The appointment was WAY down south in a hospital that is super hard to navigate.  I didn't remember which suite he was in and I didn't write it down when they called for the appointment reminder.  In fact, as the doors were closing on the elevator, I thought, "Crap.  I should've probably looked at the little informational thing in the lobby to double check." 

But I got to the right suite, even though it was twisty-turny, on the first time.  Early.  I'm kind of my own hero.

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Well, that sucked.

Know how people are all, "Give nice guys a chance?" 

For the past 15 years, thought I did... but I guess I never really did.  The last few months, I've had an opportunity to look back at the guys I've chosen routinely and realized that they've all had some serious issues right from the get go. 

The ones I've picked to stay with had issues with intimacy, issues with their moms, issues with their dads, or issues with me.  But in all cases, they strummed a chord right on my heart strings - that chord being: "Stay.  Help Me.  Fix me."

And apparently that chord always works with me.

In truth, it doesn't mean that they weren't nice, but it does mean that they had some red flags.

So each time, when something ended, I found myself inching the door to the possibility of a lasting love a little more closed.  I have believed that those dreams - those nice things - weren't for me. 

The guys I passed up?  They were the nice ones.  The guys who treated me the way I should be treated - right from the get go.  But the chord that they strummed never seemed melodic to me. I chalked it up to the chemistry not being there and moved on.

Ending the relationship with Joe, was a great time to realize that the problem wasn't with ME.  It's with the people I've continually picked.  Which, okay, WAS with me.  But hopefully you get what I mean.

I took the time to re-calibrate my heart strings. And I realized that the ones that called for help weren't quite as melodic as I had thought.  And the ones that offered genuine feelings of happiness and love sounded better than I ever believed.

So this past month, when I had the opportunity to really look love in the eyes, I did.

It started with a wonderful question - something along the lines of "Are you ready, really ready to be in love?  Are you ready in your heart and your mind?"

I looked within me, brushed off my newly re-vamped heart strings, and answered, "Yes."

And it was WONDERFUL. The act of falling in love is an amazing feeling.  It's fast, it's all consuming, and it feels beautiful.  Like my blinders have been ripped off my eyes - and now I could start to see life's full beauty - which includes ME.

I found myself peering through the crack in the door to lasting love.  I found myself lured by it's charm.  I started to (gasp!) hope.  And when my brain tried to tell my heart to slow down, I reminded it that THIS type of story happens to others.  Why not me?  Why not us?  Why not now?

We even said several times that it felt like we were 15 again - to feel like the whole world was ahead of us and that we could figure out anything that came our way.

To me, it felt like the first part of a drop on a roller coaster ride.  I was scared, white-knuckling it...until something inside me encouraged me to just let go; to just enjoy it.

And oh, how I enjoyed it.  Because that feeling?  It's amazing; intoxicating; heart-stoppingly beautiful.

Until it wasn't.

Realistically, I've recounted the weirdness of what happened many times with my friends and they all believe that something is clearly going on with him.  And from the stories he told me about some of the girls that he met, they all reacted with similar disbelief when things ended.  Judging from the outside looking in, this seems to be his MO.

So, logically, I know it's not me.  Or maybe it is.  But I know that even if his opinion of me and us changed that quickly, it doesn't have anything to do with me.  Yeah, yeah...maybe he got scared...but maybe he was just playing me.  Maybe he's just damaged goods with entirely too high of standards.  No matter how hard I try, I can't figure out what happened.

Because to me, even if I got weird vibes or mixed messages, I'd want to ride the roller coaster again.

But eesh.  It still hurts.  Just like the heartbreaks of 15 year olds.

So how is it that I'm more upset about things ending with a man that I haven't known nearly long enough than ones that I've stayed with for entirely too long?

Because my heart strings strummed a song that seemed to be in tune with his (and even I puked in my mouth with how cheesy that sounded).  But that tune? It was one of the most amazing things I've felt and heard.

So here I am.  Sad, disappointed, and hurt.  Maybe this is the rebound relationship effect.  Or maybe it's because we really could've made it work.

But I do know this: I need time to repair the damage - to my heart strings and my pride.

So that the next time a nice guy asks if I'm really ready - for love and all the wonders it holds - I'll have the courage to say yes.  I'll have the courage to walk through that door, down the aisle, and wherever else that path leads.