Alphabet Soup and Other Musings

I went through a period of my life in which I loved soup. Camb.pell's used to make small containers of tomato veggie soup that you could heat in the microwave with a clever little plastic cover. Of course, I can't tell you how many work shirts I stained by opening the metal cover that needed to be removed before microwaving the handy little bowl. But it was all worth it for that yummy burst of tomatoes with heart-healthy veggies thrown in for good measure. It was even more enjoyable in between mouthfuls of salty chips. I am certain that in that period of soup-love that I ingested enough salt to last a lifetime. Luckily, my salty tooth continues despite the fact that I have moved on from soup-love, partially because that fine company memorialized in an Andy Wharhol painting decided that I was one of only a few people who adored its creation. More likely, an avid consumer like me contracted a deadly disease from heating those little handy but materially suspicious bowls in the micro.

But what on earth is my point?

Electronic alphabet soup is not enjoyed by me. I am referring to those little safety mechanisms to prevent unwelcome guests from leaving their comments. I understand the need for them, though I will confess that I am not so sure of whether they work or not. It is not that I am dismissing the experiences of some of my favorite bloggers about rude and unsolicited comments. I simply haven't received any, probably because my blog is not nearly as popular as theirs. Sigh. But I AM a frequent and dedicated blog commenter because I am one of those annoying people you know in real time that insists on helping people feel "heard." Before you come up with any grand ideas of my selflessness and such, I do this simply because my nonreligious mind believes in the principle of "what-comes-around-goes-around" and my childhood (and, hell, early adult years, too) were overflowing with heaps of not hearingness (I know this is not a real word but I like it.) I feel that the only way to right this unbalance is to give out as much as I can in the hope that it gets returned to me before I am too blind and deaf to receive it.

Actually, that is not all true. I am one of those annoying people that you know who feels like her time on this planet will be worth it if even one more person who is hurting feels cared for.

It is ridiculous but true.

Anyway, so back to the soup of the electronic alphabet variety. Am I the only one who cannot always figure out if those friggin letters are capitalized or not? WTF? Seriously. Sometimes I have to give it three tries before I get it right. And often I simply guess. First I assumed that if the letter appears as it is written in lower-case (i.e., f as opposed to F) then it HAD to be lower-case. HAHA. Joke was on me. Then I assumed that if one letter was positioned physically higher than at least one other, it was upper case. HAHA. Joke was on me again. Now I almost treat them as a a decoding exercise: as in, let's see how much I can randomly choose which letters are upper and which are lower and get it to work. It is my lame attempt at trying to outsmart the damn system. I am not wholly convinced that this is NOT the intent. Anyway, all this is to say that I hate the fucking thing....oops, I mean that it is a miracle that any of my comments make it onto your blogs at all.

(Please tell me that someone else has struggled with this, at least in the beginning.....and if there is a secret to this crazy game, please share. I will keep it to myself. I promise.)

The other news is that there is no news. My period is due as soon as tomorrow or as late as Friday. I can't believe that it has been a month since my trip to my sister's lab and the disappointment enjoyed by all (thanks to all of you who made comments of support.) I have experienced some strange breast stirrings but nothing like what I experienced with the chemical pregnancy in November. I am noticing that, as I get older (have I mentioned that I turn 35 next week?!), my breasts seem to stand up and demand attention before my period. (Well, in all honesty, they don't stand up but they aren't too saggy yet so I am counting my blessings, though there's not much for gravity to pull on so that may be why.) In my 20s I never even acknowledged their presence. Never even had to. Felt nothing no matter what part of my cycle I was in. As for the last week or so, I have experienced some other possible symptoms but, unless I puke my guts up or feel clear and unmistakable stirrings in my uterus, I have made a deal with myself to tell myself constantly that I am not pregnant. So, I am working on that. There's still the whisper of doubt, of course, but I refuse to validate it in order to avoid disappointment.

So, another month will be lost in only a few days.

But it's ok. I am already grieving a bit in order to minimize the extent of the fall. And Mexico is a mere 6 days away. I plan to give my stomach lots of TLC this week* to prepare it for the consumption of relaxing drinks with little umbrellas on the beach. How could I cry with sadness then? I will exult in my ability to eat anything and everything I want, drink whatever I want, and nap whenever the afternoon breeze tells me to. No screaming baby to worry about, no diapers to change, no little one's schedule to live by.

Would I give this all up without a second thought for a BFP. You bet!

But Serenity and I have, via email, talked about how infertiles tend to romanticize parenthood, a charge of which I know I have been guilty. So my mission is to focus on the joys of not being a mother in ways that still allow me to grieve and be sad. The vacation will be a nice way to ease into this new state of mind. A "bunny" as my former coworker used to say about easy projects and tasks. But hey, what's wrong with starting with a bunny? Particularly since yesterday was Easter...and last year at this time I was *sure* that I would be pregnant or introducing a new little one to the joys of Easter baskets full of pacifiers and baby wipes in 2007.

*I have had a near-ulcer for years on top of Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). Alcohol is particularly tough on the system so I drink it in moderation and not more than once in the same week. But I plan to indulge while on my vacation. So, special care will have to be taken to make sure that my body is in tip-top shape so that I can destroy it again with don julio tequila shots!