Alive

Something dawned on me today:

I am alive.

I should back up. About a month ago I started a blog post and never published it. It went something like this:

I've been in the mother-of-all-funks lately.

I have no desire to take care of myself. I have no desire to take care of my house. It's anyone's guess how I still manage to wear clean underwear on a daily basis. I'm sad all the time. I think I do a good job of hiding it, though. I am on the verge of tears all day, every day.

I usually cry on my way home from work. I have a somewhat lengthy commute home, so I have a lot of time to think about things. Music makes me cry. Don't even play This Year's Love by David Gray or I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz in my presence. It won't be pretty. I tried to start reading A Stolen Life by Jaycee Lee Dugard during my lunch break today. I had to stop at the dust jacket, because, you know, bawling uncontrollably at work is not all it's cracked up to be.

You can see why I didn't publish it. My mom would have taken it as a giant cry for help and would have called me in two seconds flat. Besides, I never finished it, so there's that, too. 

In any case, I told myself today that I AM ALIVE. I might not be able to have babies and as soul-crushing as that may be, at least I am alive. 

I am alive and can experience all the good things life has to offer. We've lost a few loved ones in the recent months. They can no longer spend time with their loved ones. They can no longer see their loved ones grow and flourish. They can no longer take advantage of all of the good things life has to offer. And here I am taking my life for granted. 

Changing my thinking is not going to be automatic. Not knowing if we will ever have kids, with odds that are so stacked against us, is still devastating in a way most people will never be able to comprehend. I still cry easily. It's a very sensitive topic for me. 

But if I can remind myself of this, of the fact that I am alive, I hope that it will be easier for me to cope and easier for me to enjoy all the good things.

Photo: Source

QOTW: January 22 - January 28, 2012

"I'll tell you this: the first 6 months, I was SO relaxed. I was Al Bundy, hands down my pants while sippin a brewsky and watching TV, relaxed. Guess what? That didn't make me pregnant! I know, hard to believe, right?" - Jen Knepper

Photo: Source
I've been reading Jen's blog since before Nick and I were even trying to conceive. I remember thinking how awful it must be for a woman who wants to have children to struggle to get pregnant. I remember thinking that I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. And here I am! Yay!

Jen's quote is from a post she did on what people said to her while she was trying to get pregnant. Like, the above was in response to people telling her to "just relax." I've gotten that one more times than I care to admit. I actually had someone tell me that "it's been proven" that if you just relax and don't stress about it, you'll get pregnant. I was pretty relaxed for that whole year and a half I was off birth control before we even started trying and that didn't work, so WTF, proven science?   

New

Lord knows I'm good at jinxing things, so I've avoided saying anything until now. (Spoiler alert: I'm not pregnant. This post is not about a pregnancy.) I started a new job this week. I wish I could say it's a library job, but it's not. It's just as well, though. I'm happy with the move that I made.

I was with my last company for seven years. One thing that I had forgotten was how it felt to be the new person. There's that slightly nervous, somewhat uncomfortable feeling you get when you're new to an organization. You don't know the people, you're not familiar with how the company operates, and you aren't sure if you're allowed to hang stuff on your office walls or if you have to ask someone to do it for you. This week I thought back to how it felt to move to California when I was in the third grade. Back then, I had the same feelings. Imagine being in a new school, in a new town, where there's fog and seagulls and multiplication tables, and everything is a great departure from what you're used to. In Arizona there's heat and clear skies and cactus. I truly felt like the odd man out in Sacramento. Albeit, my third grade transition was much more difficult and much more emotional; I cried a lot and I constantly wanted to be by my mom's side. This time, I still want to be by my mom's side, but I have the understanding that everything gets better. Everything gets easier. Everything gets more familiar and routine.

Starting something new has made me realize that as great as I thought I was with change, I'm not. Don't get me wrong, I think I'm pretty adaptable. I can go with the flow and make the best of it. The feelings associated with the change are what surprised me. Sure, I knew I'd be nervous, but the uncomfortableness of it all caught me off guard. I realize now that I'm good with little changes, but sweeping, drastic changes probably aren't my forte. The challenge is to get over the new girl hump. And I can do it. It's just a matter of time, and I'm glad that I know that.



Photo: Source

New Year and Stuff

Happy new year 2012!

The other day, Nick and I had a conversation about the capitalization of new year. He asked me if it is capitalized. He was getting emails-a-plenty at work wishing him a happy new year and the capitalization between the emails was inconsistent.  I told him it depends on how people are using it. If they're referring to the holiday (New Year's Day) then it is capitalized and if they are simply referring to the new year (i.e., 2012) then it is not capitalized. That is what I told him anyways, so whether or not it is true remains to be seen (I'm too lazy and don't really care enough to Google it).

In any case, you won't be reading about any resolutions from me. I sucked at it last year (here, here, and here) and there's really no hope for me this year. One of my resolutions last year was to live in the moment. I started out okay, but the whole trying to have a baby and can't thing really effed up my mojo. I do have things that I want to work on this year, but I don't know if I'll go as far as publicly declaring them. Who am I fooling? I probably will. But I won't call them resolutions. Mark my word.

Speaking of trying to have a baby, the Clomid didn't work and by "didn't work" I just mean that I am not pregnant. Go figure. What an asshole I was to say that I had a good feeling. The plan is to do IUI tomorrow. That is the plan for now, anyways. If that doesn't work then I will officially have a nervous breakdown followed by a deep, deep depression. I'm just kidding. Kind of. I always joke with myself that it's amazing I make it to work everyday. Because there are days when all I want to do is throw myself on the floor and cry about it. Or throw a serious tantrum. This is really sounding like a cry for help. I will just put it this way: unless you have experienced primary infertility, you can't understand the feelings associated with not knowing whether or not you'll ever be able to have kids. Because that is what it really boils down to. Trying to cope with the idea that we may never be parents when we so desperately want to be. That and knowing I'll never get to indoctrinate impressionable young minds with my liberal beliefs. It is a hard, hard pill to swallow.

And that, my friends, is something I need to work on this year... not letting this be all consuming and working on accepting the realization that maybe it's just not in the cards for us. So, woe is me. Seriously, though, I have so much to be happy about and to be thankful for. I hope good things are in store for us all in 2012. Minus the end of the world, of course!



Photo: Source

The Clomid Diaries

My last day of Clomid was a week ago now. I made it through, and I took a few notes along the way. A girl's gotta have fun stuff to scrapbook about, you know.

Day #1: Side effects look fun. Here goes nothing.

Day #2: Wait, is this a Clomid headache or sinus pressure?

Day #3: By abdominal fullness do they mean feeling like your lady parts are surrounded by a brick wall? Not like fullness as in I've-just-eaten-four-slices-of-pizza-and-five-chocolate-chip-cookies, right? But like I-feel-like-I-have-a-ton-of-bricks-in-my-abdomen type of fullness?

Day #4: My ovaries must be going bananas right now.

Day #5: I never thought shaving my legs at 5:30 in the morning could get any more fun, but adding a touch of dizziness to it makes it so much more spectacular.

I have a good feeling about this. I'm a complete idiot for saying that because I say it every month. This month is the month! I can feel it! This is it! That's what I've been saying to myself for 14 months. So here we go Clomid, let's see what you've got.

PS: I don't think mom my can handle the thought of me taking a prescription that may or may not be linked to cancer for very much longer. So really, Clomid, bring it.

Stenciled Curtains: The Big Reveal

Remember when I jinxed myself from ever having kids by creating a pre-baby to-do list? In that list, I included stenciling curtains for our living room. The reason I wanted to stencil curtains is because I fell in love with way-too-expensive-for-me-to-justify Anthropologie curtains.

Photo: Source

Aren't they beautiful? If I could have married these curtains, I would have. They're that awesome. Without an awesome price tag, though, I knew they would never be mine. I thought the next best thing would be to stencil my white Ikea curtains. This thought had occurred to me because I saw a tutorial on stenciling Ikea rugs and figured I'd give it a go on curtains. After researching it more, however, I found that there are plenty of stenciled curtain tutorials as well (here, here, and here, for example). As you can see, everyone has their own techniques, so it's probably not necessary to reinvent the wheel.  I do have some tips, however, and I'll share those in a separate post.   

I started these bad boys in September (I think) and have worked on and off on them with my mom since the day after Thanksgiving. At long last, to me anyways, here is the big curtain reveal.

The stencil is smaller than the design in the Anthro curtains and I'm sure the weight of the fabric is much lighter, but I'm really enjoying the fruits of our labor. The print and color add so much to our living room. They remind me of beautiful earrings that finish off an outfit. They're the chandelier earrings of our living room, if you will. I had a little bit of fear that they would look cheesy and, perhaps, cheap, but they turned out quite nicely. So if you're ever looking for an inexpensive solution to patterned curtains, you may want to consider stenciling curtains you already have.

If you're wondering, here's the progress on my list: 

• Paint and decorate dining room
• Stencil Ikea curtains in living room
• Clean out "baby room"
• Organize garage
• Decorate staircase wall
• Give loaner desk back to mom and dad
• Refinish mom and dad's donated dresser for master bedroom
• Repair carpet in den and upstairs hallway
• Shampoo carpet and rug in den
• Reorganizing kitchen cupboards
• Revamp kitchen recycle center
• DIY throw pillows for couch

5 Clomids To Go, Please

After weighing the pros and cons of the various infertility options available, it made sense for us to begin with a lower level of intervention. We, and by we I mean I, decided to try Clomid. We're taking baby steps (no pun intended), so it's straight Clomid this cycle. No IUI or any other BS. What? It's not like we're in a hurry or anything.

If you're hip to the infertility scene then you know there's a lot of discussion about Clomid side effects: headache, mood swings, cancer... fun stuff. In fact, when we first met with our fertility doctor I asked about the correlation between the hormones used with infertility treatments and cancer. He essentially said that the recent study linking the two was a crock of shit. If anything, he said, I should be worried about Clomid. Oh joy!

But, like I said, we're starting with a treatment plan that makes the most sense for us right now. So Clomid it is!

Before I could begin Clomid I had to have a baseline ultrasound to see what I was working with and to ensure that the previously-never-blogged-about cyst on one of my ovaries was gone (cysts are completely normal, mom!). So on Monday I hopped on over to the doctor's office during my lunch break for a quick look at the ol' vag. You know, just your typical lunch break.

The cyst was gone and so there was nothing left to do but start popping Clomid.

Man, the side effects are awesome. At least they are on paper. I especially enjoyed reading the pharmaceutical leaflet that came with my prescription. Side effects may include: upset stomach; bloating; abdominal/pelvic fullness; hot flashes; breast tenderness; headache; dizziness; possible vision changes that may or may not be permanent; abnormal vaginal bleeding; mental/mood changes; ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS) which can lead to fluid build up in the stomach, chest, and heart area so, hey, let someone know if you have severe pain/swelling in the lower abdomen, sudden/rapid weight gain, nausea/vomiting, diarrhea, shortness of breath, change in the amount of urine, pain/redness/swelling of the legs, chest pain, and/or fast/irregular heartbeat; and/or serious allergic reaction. And the kicker is that these side effects may not even occur until after treatment has been stopped. Fun!  

Insurance is Da Bomb

It's that time of the year for one of those cheesy "I'm thankful" posts. I'm thankful for A LOT the whole year through, but over the past couple of weeks I've been like, whoa, I'm so thankful. Here's just one thing on my list:

I'm SO thankful for my medical insurance.

Fertility testing and fertility treatments can be really expensive. Like that HSG test? It costs, roughly, $1,000 without insurance. With insurance, some people pay 80%, some people pay 50%, and some people pay 25% or less with varying percentages in between. I paid nothing*. I didn't pay anything for any of my fertility tests.

For my treatments I will pay $25 per appointment plus the cost of prescriptions. Granted, I might have a shitload of appointments, but I'll take it over the costs I could be paying. This, of course, excludes IVF which will run us $12-15k should we choose to go that route.

I'm not trying to brag about my fantastic health insurance, either, because guess what? Infertility ain't nothin' to brag about. I know I'm super lucky to have been afforded the opportunity to buy into a good medical plan. So when we were sitting there, waiting to find out the verdict, I said to Nick, "right now I'm thankful to have good medical insurance."



Photo: Source
*Sometimes I feel the need to respond to stupid comments before I ever publish a post. Defensive writing generally makes for a horrible read, but to avoid some ignoramous commenting that I did pay something because I pay for my health insurance, yes, I pay for my health insurance. So when I say I paid nothing, I mean I paid no additional costs above and beyond my biweekly premiums. Take that, asshole.  

Unsolved Mysteries

Diagnosis: unexplained infertility.

Yep, sperms are good, lady parts are good, eggs are good, blood work is good. We're just a very, very mysterious couple, that's all.

We have a 5% chance per cycle of conceiving on our own, a 5% chance per cycle of conceiving with IUI (intrauterine insemination aka artificial insemination), a 6 to 8% chance per cycle of conceiving with IUI in conjunction with Chlomid, a 8 to 10% (don't quote me) chance per cycle of conceiving with hCG injections, and, like, a 50% chance of conceiving with IVF (in vitro fertilization) per round (<-- $12k to $15k per round)!

So the odds are in our favor!!! (<-- sarcasm)

If anyone says, "at least nothing is wrong with you," I'll give you a mean noogie and dunk your head in the toilet. And then flush it.

Seriously.

And then I'll punch you in the privates and gouge your eyes out with a screw driver.

The only other thing I can think of that would be more annoying than telling a couple with unexplained infertility, "at least nothing is wrong with you," is telling them, "there's always adoption." Because, chances are, this person has no idea how difficult or how expensive adoption is. I'm just kidding. It wouldn't be more annoying, just equally annoying.

But there is one good thing from our visit!!! (<-- no sarcasm)

We found out that there's actually a term for what happened to me back in March. I had a biochemical pregnancy. I'm straight flabbergasted that I was made to feel like a fucking idiot at Kaiser when it happened and here, 8 months later, our fertility doctor offers up the term right when we sit down to meet with him.

Doctor: "So you had a biochemical pregnancy earlier this year."

Me: "???"

Doctor: "Back in March when you had that positive pregnancy test."

Me: "Oh? Oh! OMG! A biochemical pregnancy!?! That's fantastic!!! And it was three positive pregnancy tests, by the way." And a positive blood test, ahem.

So that is where we're at, fertility fan club. Thanks for listening.  I'm restricting comments from this one. I hope you understand. But I will leave you with a random photo of crab fries.

Hysterosalpingogram (HSG) Test

I had the much dreaded hysterosalpingogram (HSG) test last Friday. The last, for me, in a series of fertility tests. And, yes, it was as much fun as the name suggests. In layman's terms, this test reveals if one's fallopian tubs are open (good) or if they're blocked (bad). By the way, if you're sensitive to lady talk, or not interested in lady tests, I suggest you stop reading right here.

Test Preparation

You actually have to prepare for this test, believe it or not. Two days before the test, HSGers have to go into the lab and do a urine pregnancy test. I was lucky because my doctor had also ordered a thyroid test for me, for some unknown reason. So I peed in a cup and had my blood drawn all before the work day started. Fun! The good news, for the sake of the test, is that my pregnancy test was negative. You guys, who is surprised at this point, right? Also, my thyroid levels are completely normal. That's totally irrelevant to this test, but over-sharing is quite therapeutic, you know.

The day before the test, HSGers have to start taking antibiotics. This is to prevent infection from the horrible things they're going to do to you during the test. When the pharmacist consulted me on the medication, he quietly whispered that I was to begin taking the doxycycline a day before my "procedure," wink wink.

And then, an hour before the test, HSGers are instructed to take 800 mgs of ibuprofen because the test itself is completely and insanely uncomfortable and causes mild to moderate cramping. I guess the thought is that if you're hopped up on meds you won't notice a catheter being inserted up your vagina, through your cervix, and into your uterus.  

Test Procedure

As if the test itself is not intimidating enough, it's performed at the hospital, complete with hospital bracelet and gown.

The good news (since I'm such a glass-is-half-full type of person, apparently) is that I was allowed to keep my socks on. I specifically brought socks and asked if I could wear them because 1. I have not painted my toenails since before Pismo Beach and 2. Who wants cold feet when strangers are examining your lady business? Not me.

So there I was in my hospital gown and socks laying on a cold, flat metal table. To my left, there's a massive, movable x-ray machine (a fluoroscope) and to my right there's a monitor that will capture images of my uterus and fallopian tubes. The first part of the test is kind of like a pap smear and, by first part, I mean there's a speculum involved. If you don't know what a speculum is just consider yourself lucky. Or a man. Or both, I suppose.

Next is the cleaning of the cervix. Yes, they cleaned my cervix. I don't know what this thing looks like, but it feels like a brillo pad on a stick twirling around inside your body, hitting the walls of your cervix over and over again. My use of the word twirling kind of makes it sound all fun and carefree, huh? Just imagine someone taking a toothbrush to your small intestine and rotating it. And then rotating it. And rotating it and rotating it. It doesn't really hurt, but it's weird and uncomfortable.  

After my cervix is squeeky clean, the doctor inserts a catheter through my cervix and into my uterus, injects dye into the catheter, and instructs me to scooch up on the table so that the fluroscope can do its thing. Moving even an inch with a catheter all up in your lady parts is a feat in itself not only because you have a foreign object inside your body, but also because it freaking hurts. Thank goodness for nurses. Taking slow, deep breaths, so as not to pass out, I lay there while the fluroscope x-rays my insides. Oy! That sounds so dramatic, but it does hurt.

And then the catheter is removed and all is well. From start to finish the test is, like, five minutes. One can expect some cramping for the rest of the day, but it's nothing that a whole box of macaroni and cheese can't fix.

Weekday with Bernie

I almost feel bad writing this because I like the person who said it. But it's probably a good lesson for everyone in what not to say to other women. And I'll preface this by saying that she knows nothing about my personal life.

Bernadette, we'll call her Bernadette.

So there I am working diligently in my cube and not at all surfing the Internet or anything like that. Bernadette walks up to my cube and starts talking to me about work stuff over the partition. She has to show me a document so she walks inside my cube. While I'm considering the question she's asked me, Bernadette gets up close and personal with the photos I have displayed near my monitor.

She points at one. "That's new," she says.

"No, that one's always been there," I say, "I just moved them around a little bit."

She shifts her attention to two more photos. "Who are they?" she asks while pointing at the faces of my niece and nephew.

"That's my nephew, my husband's brother's son. And that's my niece, my husband's brother's daughter."

"Wouldn't it be nice if you could put pictures of your own babies in there?"

Shocked, I say, "um... yeah, that would be nice."

"But you're not even trying," she says.

I could just end the story right there. Because that conversation is enough to thoroughly piss off an infertile woman. Not me, but another infertile woman. Just sayin'.

"You don't know that," I laugh. And I did chuckle because I'm so taken aback that someone is saying this to me. Although, I get this on a weekly basis at work. Someone will bring their baby in and, like clockwork, someone else will chime up and say, "now it's Sara's turn" or "when are you going to have a baby, Sara?"

Bernadette walks away, but comes back to my cube later to ask me if I'm going to the health fair that my company is sponsoring that day. I tell her that I'd like to, but I'm just too busy. She walks off and goes down the hall to the health fair. When she's done visiting all the vendors Bernadette breezes past my cube.

"They're doing massages at the health fair, Sara. You should take a break and get one to relax. It will help you get pregnant."

Whiskey tango foxtrot, people.

I have to laugh at it, though, and remind myself that people are just being nice in their own weird way. And they don't know I'm going through this private struggle. But this was a good day, too. Had she caught me in a different mood, I might not have been able to be all rational and shit.

PS: Bernadette is the same person who said I didn't look like the cooking type.

A Grown Ass Woman

Today, for fertility testing, I had four large vials of blood drawn, one medium vial, and one small vial. I wanted to take a picture of all of the filled tubes, but the phlebotomist seemed like the no-nonsense type so I didn't press my luck. Just imagine, you could be looking at a photo of my blood right now! With the needle in my arm I told myself, Sara, you better be getting some bacon and eggs after this. And I did. In fact, I think this was the first time I've ever eaten in a bona fide restaurant by myself. I felt very grown up.

I've always been weirded out by the thought of eating alone at a restaurant table. It seems kind of lonely. It was very relaxing, actually. I brought Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother with me (I know, I said no memoirs... whoops!), so it turned out to be quite enjoyable. It's kind of amazing to do something outside of your comfort zone (eating by myself in a restaurant, for example) and come away feeling refreshed. Not that eating alone is akin to jumping out of an airplane, but sometimes it's just the small things that make us feel good.  

In Her Shoes

Sometimes people ask me why, since I'm already taller than my husband, do I wear heels? The short answer is: I like heels.

The long answer looks more like this: I like heels. Nick knew this when we met. In fact, I was wearing 3 inch heels when I picked him up in bar on a warm Saturday night in March of 2005. At the time, he didn't seem to have a problem with it. To this day, he's never voiced concern over my love affair with heels. If he did, I'd tell him to kick rocks. I know that sounds mean, but I've always said to myself that I will never give up who I am for someone. I am heels and heels are me. So, you see, we cannot part.

Clockwise: Christian Louboutin; Giuseppe Zanoti; KG by Kurt Geiger; Topshop

I have a deep, undying love for heels. Not everyone knows this about me since I hoard them, but rarely ever wear them. By rarely ever I mean that I generally don't wear heels to work; I hate wearing things I like to work. It makes no sense, really, since I spend most of my waking hours there. I attribute this weird behavior to being my father's daughter. We once gave him a hammock for Father's Day, and it's still in the box three years later. He doesn't want the dogs to pee on it. I'm pretty sure he has other gifts stored away in his closet for safe keeping, too.

Before I met Nick I didn't own any flats. None. Nada. Okay, I did own flat flip flops and tennis shoes, but they don't really count. I was never attracted to flats, and I certainly would never, ever consider wearing flats out to a bar. I was a snob like that. Since I met Nick, though, I've purchased many a pair of flats. I can see the beauty in them now.

Left to right: Butter; Frye; Missoni

Even so, there isn't a pair of flats out there that will ever make me feel like heels make me feel. Heels make me feel less frumpy and more self-assured. My light shines brighter when they're on my feet. They ease my worries. Incidentally, I find that I'm buying more heels with this whole infertility thing. I say to myself: I started my period? I might as well buy a new pair of heels. If I can't be holding a sweet little baby in my arms, a red soled Louboutin is a nice consolation prize.

Philosophical Friday

Lately I've been pondering the question of whether or not I'm meant to have kids. Like, why, after 12 months of actively trying to conceive paired with 2.5 years of being off birth control, am I not pregnant? It's a very hard pill to swallow. So one day while I'm in the shower, I ask myself this question: am I just not meant to have kids? Immediately, the idea of essence preceding existence pops into my head.

I'm not religious, at all. I grew up Methodist and enjoyed going to church with my family. I got to go to Sunday school and learn some cool songs like "Jesus Loves Me" and "This Little Light of Mine." My brother and I even got to cut each other's hair in the basement of our church when we were little. Albeit, cutting of thy brother's hair wasn't a church sanctioned event so much as it was an impromptu ceremony to christen a pair of Fiskars scissors.

At some point we stopped attending church services every Sunday, and as I got older I developed a distaste for organized religion. That's not true, exactly. I became disheartened by the hypocrisy associated with certain religions; religions sometimes claim they love everyone yet their love is conditional. I understand that it's not the religion, per se, it's the religious fanatics, the radicals, who spew hatred in the name of God. That's why I identify so much with the Dalai Lama's quote, "My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness."

In any case, someone who is religious would probably say that if it's in God's plan, I will get pregnant. They would say that I need to trust in His timing. Someone who is evil would surely comment that I am not pregnant because I'm not a good Christian and don't deserve a gift from Him. And everyone is entitled to their opinion. But it's true that I don't believe that my life is pre-determined. I believe that existence precedes essence. My inner conflict is not between me and my faith in God, it's between me and my body.

And therein lies the problem. Is my body warning me that it can't handle a pregnancy? Or... OR... am I so close to a nervous breakdown from this ridiculous process, from people asking when we're going to have kids, from people telling us that it'll happen when we stop trying that I'm entertaining thoughts that most people never stop to consider? Seriously, you guys, you would not wish infertility on your worst enemy. It's such a mind fuck. I mean I'm even thinking about seeing this guy:



Source
He cures and solves everything! Anyhow, those are just my thoughts on infertility at this stage in the game. Things could be much worse. The glass is always half full. 

She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain

I've been having this reoccurring dream.

I'm up in the Sierra Mountains, and I have to get down to our friend's house in Sacramento. In my dream I'm the proud owner of a big rig. Instead of driving it down to the valley, I have it loaded onto a train. As the train is pulling it to Sacramento, I'm standing inside the truck. I can't see out the windows, and I'm nervous about being in my big rig on a train. I have anxiety about the big rig tumbling off the train and rolling down a mountain to my fiery death. In the end, I'm safe and sound.

Dream number two is this exact same scenario except my big rig detaches from the train. I can't see anything, but I feel it jerk off the tracks and begin to roll over and over. Of course I know that I'm going to die, but the truck eventually starts to slide and eases its way into some sort of embankment. And then I wake up.  

I don't know that I believe there is a meaning behind every dream. I do have a dream dictionary on my bookshelf, though, and I thought it was weird that I had two different versions of the same dream. So you know I had to look it up.



Photo Credit
Dream Moods states that mountains in one's dream signifies, "major obstacles and challenges," while a train wreck represents chaos and that one's goals are not going according to plan. As for what truck means, the site suggests, "Pregnant women often dream of trucks or driving trucks. This may be a metaphor of the load they are carrying or an expression of their changing bodies."

Whoa. I'm not pregnant, first of all. BUT, that is the direction I was going in with all of these interpretations. The whole trying to conceive thing feels very chaotic in a helpless kind of way, a being in limbo kind of way. And, obviously, my baby goals are not going according to plan. Because Nick and I want to have kids, this presumed infertility issue is clearly a major obstacle. And if pregnant women dream of trucks, I find it fitting that a women, who is struggling to conceive, dreams that her truck is crashing down a mountain. The only hopeful thing is that in the end of both dreams I was OK. I was relieved. Here's to hoping that real life turns out the same way.

The Great Wall of Awesome

Remember this list? You'll notice that I mentioned decorating the staircase wall.  Here's why: 

Kind of boring, huh? I had a million different ideas and all of them included incorporating some of my favorite prints and pieces that I have been accumulating. When I saw this photo on Pinterest, it became my inspiration.

via MarthaStewart.com

To jazz it up a bit and tailor it to my style, I decided to paint a horizontal stripe in between the frames instead of leaving a blank space. I kept going back and forth on the color of the stripe. Initially, I wanted the color of the line to be a dark blue. A dark blue will coordinate with the blue that I am going to use to stencil the curtains in our living room. But then I realized I didn't want it to be all matchy-matchy and imagined a lighter blue. And then a bluish-green. While I debated on the color of the stripe, I marked off my line and laid out the wall a la Young House Love.

For the stripe, I ended up with Araucana Teal by Martha Stewart. I thought that the blueish-green of Araucana Teal, paired with Nurture by Behr (the light blue already on the wall), would not only go nicely with the rest of our downstairs, but also give off a laid back, beachy vibe. We like to pretend we live closer to the beach than we really do.

I really like the results.

I like to fill our house with things that make us smile or laugh, and this wall is a nice mix of special pieces that do the trick. Starting in the upper left corner, we hung some canvas map art. There's more on how I made them here, but they're super special because each piece represents somewhere significant to us: where we met, where we got engaged, where we got married, and where we live.

Next to the map art is a gift from my parents. We got married in Pismo Beach, California, home to Splash Cafe. Splash Cafe has the world's best clam chowder, and the aesthetic inside is just as entertaining as the food is delicious. The walls of the restaurant are adorned with cool murals depicting clam-people surfing, sunbathing and swimming. This piece is a replica of what you'll see inside Splash Cafe. My parents gave this to me for my 28th birthday which was only a few months after we got married. 

We love our dogs. I mean, we LOVE our dogs. And they're crazy about us too. So when I saw this print ("Please let me be the person my dog thinks I am.") on sfgirlbybay, I had to buy it.

We also love California, perhaps slightly less than we love our dogs, but still. This California Love print seemed only fitting. It's from an Etsy shop, Love in Letters. I had it tagged as a favorite, and Nick surprised me with it out of the blue. Nick knows that Etsy (and food) is the way to my heart.

The top floral print is just a pretty piece of scrapbook paper. The three pieces beneath it started out as tile coasters I found at Anthropologie a few years ago. I knew I'd never use them as coasters and have been saving them until I could properly put them on display. When I found three square frames at a thrift store, I knew they'd be perfect for the coasters. I sanded them and spray painted them white and then glued the coasters to them. I think they look quite nice. 

Next, I included this beautiful pair of original oil paintings I found at a local thrift store. They're coastal scenes and they're gorgeous. Seriously, an awesome find. They are signed Murane and the back of each painting shows the artist's information as Ruth Z. Murane from Santa Cruz, California. 

Ah, and then there are my cows. They're not really my cows, but they reminded me of cows I fell in love with near our house. I would drive to and from work each day and see these beautiful brown and white calves sitting in a field near their mom. They were so small and precious with thin, wobbly legs, and they etched a place in my heart. They just made me smile. Why I still eat meat is a complete mystery to me. Anyhow, rather than get out of my car and trespass on someone's property to take pictures, I thought a print of Rachel Parker's original watercolor painting would do. I found this vibrant print on her Etsy site.  

To the left of my sweet cows is a swatch of fabric framed with a white matte. The colors and pattern of the fabric remind me of a peacock. 

I really like this photo of our bikes in Monterey with the ocean as a backdrop. Ah, to be back in Monterey again. Most of the frames on this wall are thrift store finds or old frames we already had with a fresh coat of spray paint. This frame, however, is brand spankin' new. It's from Aaron Brothers, and I'm smitten with that whole distressed wood thing its got going on.  

I got this D print from Young House Love before they did away with their print shop. I guess you could say that I have a piece of history on our wall then, right? (I think I accomplished that with those beautiful Murane paintings, but you know what I mean.) 

And last but not least, we have a sweet note card of a dog smelling another dog's butt. My mom gave me this print, and boy, does she know me well. Classiness runs in the family, I tell you. She ordered it from snew, an Etsy shop.  

So there we have it, one more thing to strike from my list. 

I have a couple more projects in the works. With the way things are looking in baby land, I'll have this list completely finished before my uterus knows what hit it.  

• Paint and decorate dining room
• Stencil Ikea curtains in living room
• Clean out "baby room"
• Organize garage
• Decorate staircase wall
• Give loaner desk back to mom and dad
• Refinish mom and dad's generously donated dresser for master bedroom
• Repair carpet in den and upstairs hallway
• Shampoo carpet and rug in den
• Reorganize kitchen cupboards
• Revamp the "recycle center" in the kitchen
• DIY throw pillow covers for the couch

Putting Us on the Map

I'm working on my pre-baby to do list and putting the finishing touches on our staircase wall. I've put a lot of love into this wall, filling it with fun prints and sentimental pieces. I've been inspired by the map art floating around on Pinterest. I know it's a bit trendy, but I really love the idea of creating art using a map of a place with special significance. My inspirational pieces include:

Tickety Boo via Pinterest

and...

  maryruffle.tumbler.com (original link broken) via Pinterest

I switched it up a little and made some map art on canvas that I already had on hand. I used four small canvases with each canvas representing a place that is special to Nick and I. The maps include: where we met, got engaged, got married, and where we live. I basically Mod Podged the maps onto the canvases and then added a candy apple red brad next to the city name to draw attention to the specific location.  

To make these bad boys, I used four 5" x 7" canvases, tacky glue, Mod Podge, maps, and scissors.

I set the canvas on top of the area of the map that I wanted to highlight. When I had the canvas and the map positioned to my liking, I cut around the canvas leaving a 2" overhang on each side. 

I spread tacky glue on the canvas. Mod Podge works too, but I happened to have a little tacky glue left over from an old project.  

I placed my map onto the wet canvas and pressed down. Next, I used a credit card to smooth out the surface, working from the center and pushing the glue out towards the sides. 

I clipped the four corners of the map, brushed tacky glue on the sides of the canvas, and adhered the overhang to the sides and the back of the canvas frame.

I let the pieces dry for about 24 hours and then coated each with Mod Podge. I then let the Mod Podge dry for an additional 24 hours and globbed on another coat.  

After I finished my last coat of Mod Podge, and each canvas was sufficiently dry, I inserted these sweet little brads into the canvas. I picked the brads up from my local scrapbook store, but you can also order them online. They come in every color imaginable and even with a little bling-bling.  

It definitely wasn't a hard project, and I really like the way they turned out!  

Another One Bites the Dust

Of all the things on my pre-baby to do list, I thought cleaning out the garage would be one of the last tasks we conquered. But when Nick mentioned that he'd like to make a work space out in the garage, I jumped at the chance to tackle one of our biggest projects and strike it from my list . 

Here it is in its anxiety inducing mess (aka Before):

This sucker took some massive cleaning and organizing efforts. We started by taking everything in sight and grouping like items on the garage floor. We designated piles for sports equipment, painting supplies, holiday decorations, vehicle-related items and more. We had a trash pile to prevent us from running back and forth between the trash can, and we also set aside an area for donations. 

Our little sort fest took a couple of hours. While we had most of our holiday decorations and camping supplies already organized, over the years we've been pretty careless about where we've been putting "miscellaneous" items. Nothing really had a home, so our shelves were overflowing with unorganized clutter. If there was a space on the shelf for that extra extension cord or flash light then that is where we put it. There was no rhyme or reason to our garage, and that was really the reason behind my burning desire to straighten it out. 

After everything was satisfactorily grouped together, we placed the items back onto the shelves or in the cabinets according to how often we used them. If we used something once or twice a year, we put it up high or out of the way. For example, our holiday decorations took residence on our top shelf since we only need them during the latter part of every year. Conversely, we kept our tools within arms reach since we use them all year round. Nick also installed hooks for our skim board, boogie board, and snow boards. This was particularly awesome since out snowboards had been living in our computer room propped against the wall.  

I started to use my sweet label maker to help us remember what's inside our various plastic tubs. Don't cha know, though, my batteries died.  I didn't want to drop everything to run to the store, so our garage is currently label free. I plan to finish this task, but I still consider the garage officially organized and cleaned. At this point, labels are just icing on the cake.        

There was plenty of sorting and purging during our extreme garage makeover. And some backache. And headache. But it was well worth it. There's nothin' too fancy about it. There aren't any high end storage containers or organization systems, but it's an organized masterpiece nonetheless.   

The new rule is that if we put something in the garage, we have to put it where it belongs. Everything has its own place now. Hallelujah and amen.  

I truly feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I'm glad we cleaned and organized the garage before conceiving. It was much more labor intensive than I realized. And since I like to do things on my own (i.e., lift heavy objects), it would have been hard for me to relinquish control had we waited too long. 

Here's the scorecard if anyone is counting:

• Paint and decorate dining room 
• Stencil Ikea curtains in living room
• Clean out "baby room"
• Organize garage
• Decorate staircase wall
• Give loaner desk back to mom and dad
• Refinish mom and dad's generously donated dresser for master bedroom
• Repair carpet in den and in upstairs hallway
• Shampoo carpet and rug in den  
• Reorganize kitchen cupboards
• Revamp the "recycle center" in the kitchen
• DIY throw pillow covers for the couch

Now, on to the next project...