Posting a Retraction

I feel like I should just walk away from this, but I can't. If this was a credible news source, would my last past be worthy of a retraction and apology?

I'm sorry if I offended people with my post. Honestly that was not the intention. I was trying to take the scrambled mess of thoughts in my brain and sort through them. Get them out of my head and into the open where they'd have room to separate and appear as single arguments instead of a wadded up mass of tangles.

I'm not sorry for what I said though. There are aspects of the last 3 years that I haven't blogged about. Words that I'd love to get out of my head and off my chest, but I can't figure out how to write down what I want to say. Infertility is a cruel mistress. Even when you find yourself out of her throes, she is intertwined in your being so deeply that you find pieces of her in unexpected places. Couple infertility with hypermesis and you have yourself a cocktail for serious mental anguish.

Does that mean that I need to talk to a therapist? Perhaps. I don't know. When I was battling depression in 2005 I struggled to find someone who I felt comfortable talking with. I'm afraid that trying to find someone this time would be even worse. This is so vastly different than your standard issue marital woes, or parenting troubles. It is something in which you have to find a perfect balance with the person you are talking to. Because of this, there are only a couple of people who I feel comfortable enough with to have the conversations.

I'm not ready right now for another child. Our life isn't ready right now for another child. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for another child. C wants more children though, at least one. I want more children too but I don't want to have to go through what I did to get KT.

I struggle because I see marriage as a partnership. I've compromised with him on many things to reach a decision we're both comfortable with. By me saying no more kids I feel as though I'm not compromising and being selfish, completely ignoring his wants. I was trying to get a feel for whether or not that selfishness was warranted. Or whether I was just being a brat and need to accommodate my husband more.

I guess that next time I air my dirty laundry I'll keep the bedroom door closed. Maybe some things are better left unsaid or at least spoken in close company over a beer at the kitchen table.

A Huge Helping of Indecision, with a Side of Guilt

That sound you hear that reminds you of rocks inside an empty soda can?

No worries. It's not something going horribly wrong on our car, it's just me and the thoughts bouncing around in my head. You'd think the cobwebs would muffle the sound somewhat but I guess not. Perhaps the cobwebs are so old they've turned to dust and have collected in the corners as they do in dank, dark attics.

The wee one turned two this week. Two. She's now been breathing on her own longer than it took for her to go from a twinkle in her father's eye to a bun in the oven. Two. How in the world did she get to be a toddler?

Wasn't it just last week that we saw that tiny little flicker of a heartbeat on an ultrasound screen? Yesterday that we strapped her into the carseat and drove more cautiously on the way home from the hospital than we ever have in our lives?

Growing up I thought I wanted 4 kids. 2 didn't seem to be enough; 3 was better but would give you the "middle child"; 4 seemed to be a good number. Perhaps the magic number. 2 children for each parent to wrangle. A family that would fit comfortably in a vehicle and a mid sized house around the dinner table but not big enough to draw stares and comments when out to dinner.

When I was diagnosed with endometriosis, my doctor recommended that I get pregnant quickly, have my children spaced as closely together as possible -- his recommendation was 18 months -- and then be done. As in a hysterectomy to minimize the hassle of the endo and the surge of symptoms over the years.

Then we walked the journey we did. 18 months of trying. 5 rounds of clomid. 2 miscarriages. A bout of depression. Weekly appointments with a therapist. A prescription of zoloft to pull me out of the pit of blackness. Innumerable tears and sleepless nights. Surgery to remove polyps.

Then I was pregnant. I thought that the worst of the journey was over but I was wrong. So very, very wrong. I hated being pregnant. I loved that we were going to be parents but the day to day of it stunk. There were days that I'd lay on the bathroom floor, too exhausted and sick to move and I'd cry. I'd cry because I hated the way I felt and wished for it to be over. Then I'd hate myself because I wasn't excited. We'd gone through so much to get where we were and I hated it. I wanted so desperately to be able to enjoy my pregnancy and to cherish the life growing inside of me.

I know that there are women who faced much worse than I did. I know that my struggles are a drop in the bucket compared to some. But it was the hardest thing I've ever faced. The span between May 2005 and November 2006 was the hardest 18 months of my life.

My desire to have 4 children quickly subsided when I began walking the path I did. I began saying that 1 would it. Our family would be complete with an only child. I agreed that when KT was 3, we'd discuss the slim chance of child #2.

I honestly don't know if my body can take all of that again. The enamel on my teeth is cracked from the hundreds of times I threw up; my gallbladder quit working; I am almost positive I have undiagnosed damage to my esophagus from the regurgitation of stomach acids; I have permanently broken blood vessels in my face. But more importantly than that, I don't think I can handle the emotional toll again.

The wee one turned 2 this week. I know that C wants more kids, at least 1 more. I know that he would be beside himself with joy to have a son. He's said that he wouldn't ever pressure me and he's fine if I'm done because I'm the one who has to "go through all of it".

I'm not ready tomorrow to even think about this. But it certainly makes me question my motives. When is it appropriate that my selfishness outweigh the desires of others?

What I thought was such an easy decision now has me scratching m yhead and making me feel incredibly guilty.

Maybe the guilt will pass.

Should it?

Thought for the Day

I'm not sure how two years can go by so quickly. We waited for what seemed like so long for her to come into our lives and it now the days feel as though they are slipping through our fingers.

Happy Birthday, my dear child. May you always follow your dreams and trust your heart.

We love you so much! You truly are a blessing and bring so much joy into our lives.

Today? Tomorrow? Next Week?

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.


With every second that lapses I get closer and closer to the fatal blue screen of death on my laptop. The IT "guy" for our area informed me that the hard drive on my work laptop is failing.

Fan-freakin-tastic.

I can't get people to respond to emails regarding work that they NEED to do. How am I going to get the approval for either a new hard drive or a new laptop?

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Will it quit today?

Will it self-destruct tomorrow? Doubtful on that as I'm taking tomorrow off.

Or will I spend the next couple of weeks wondering that if the next command I issue, or the next keystroke I type will be the last?

What a way to start the week.

Weird Tendencies

My canning season is officially winding down, thankfully!

The last batch of tomatoes is bubbling away in the canner on the stove at this very minute. The kitchen smells of cooked tomatoes; the dishwasher is washing up the remnants of time spent blanching and quartering fruit and the air is heavy with the humidity of simmering water. As I sit here and sip my wine my thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakable *tink* of lids sealing from previous batches.

It has been a very productive year and will do us well in the coming months.

This year's tally:

• 46 quarts of canned tomatoes
• 4 pints of canned tomatoes
• 8 pints of canned salsa
• 4 1/2 pints of pickled jalapenos
• 2 quarts of tomato paste, frozen in ice cube sized portions
• 22 pints of canned applesauce
• 8 1/2 pints of canned apple butter
• 5 quarts of frozen apple pie filling (1 quart = 1 pie)
• 8 1/2 pints of raspberry jam
• 8 1/2 pints of cherry jam
• 8 1/2 pints of apricot jam
• 4 pints of apricot jam
• 3 gallon sized bags of frozen raspberries
• 2 quart sized bags of frozen cherries (1 quart =1 cobbler)
• 3 bags containing 6 cups of frozen cherries (6 cups = 1 pie)
• 5 quart sized bags of frozen sweet corn
• 6 quart sized bags of frozen whole pea pods
  
• 4 quart sized bags of frozen shelled peas
• 8 quart sized bags of green beans

Most of that was all from this year's garden. The apricots, cherries and half of the raspberries were courtesy of a friend's yard. Not too bad for my 1st attempt at growing stuff on my own property! That doesn't include everything that we consumed fresh and the produce that was distributed to friends.

When all tallied up, I might have spent $20 in ingredients for the salsa, pickled jalapenos, jams, pie filling, apple butter, etc. with sugar and pectin accounting for 75% of that cost. I did have to buy jars this year (as I certainly didn't expect to have this much stuff to can!) but those will be reused in future years and the freezer bags had some cost too. Even including jars and bags my grand total in expenses is around $75. I figure the jam and apple butter themselves are worth that much, if you were to buy it in the store so I've come out way ahead in terms of cost.

Time spent, and how much that is worth, is a completely different story. But it's worth it to know that my food doesn't have any preservatives in it, to know exactly what was applied to the plants for fertilizers/pesticides and to not have anything in the ingredient list that I cannot pronouce.

The weird quirk though, is that anytime I'm in the kitchen canning you can be guaranteed one thing...