It’s a …

My step-brother and his wife who used Christmas to announce they were expecting, had also decided to use Easter to announce the gender of their baby. Awesome. To be fair, I get it, they’re excited. But using two holidays so that everyone could be there seems a bit much. We don’t see them often to begin with and if any of us had news like this, I don’t think we’d wait to find a time to include all these extended family members outside of our parents.

My mom gave me a heads up about a week ago that they kept asking the plans for Easter and that they wanted to bring a cake. I knew immediately where she was going with this and I had to then explain to her how the whole ridiculous thing works. She said she’s never heard of such a thing and I said well you can blame today’s social media and pinterest for that. We both thought it seemed odd that the wife’s side wouldn’t be over to witness and that’s when I told mom I’ll bet they do this twice which is dumb because in “round two,” the expecting parents will already know the answer. Now it’s just going through the motions for another “show” for the rest of us.

As we walked in the door at my mom’s house, she started again with, “I’m giving you a heads up…” I’m like now what? She said that stepdaughter’s family was now coming over on a moment’s notice. The family comprised of children from three different fathers who “never celebrate Easter” would be there soon. It’s always loud, rambunctious, and a huge reminder of how life can be so unfair to “bless” some people with children but not others. Great.

Within the first three minutes of their arrival, it was announced that she left home without bringing diapers and would have to run out to get some. This was followed by more chaos and kids screaming “no!” when being instructed on what to do. We were in for a real treat.

I was planning not to be there. I know that may sound selfish but there are some days when I know I can’t handle this, and already knew this would be one of those days. But as other family members were sick and possibly not going to make it and with my mom fussing, planning and cleaning the house and how important the holidays are to her, I decided to suck it up and go.

When does this go away? When do I stop feeling like the elephant in the room, ruining joyous occasions for others? When do I stop feeling like a rotten B for feeling this way?

So the cake was cut and cake-round-two-not-so-surprise, they’re having a girl. I still have a tough time when remembering that just a year ago, my stepbrother seemed to want nothing to do with children and now here we are. Change of heart and just like that, blessed. When telling us how they had to look up all the girl names that they were considering, to make sure they weren’t porn names, I had to leave the room. 

I will never, ever understand the rationale of who gets the privilege of becoming parents. 

Test of strength

Yesterday, while at my acupuncture appointment that I didn’t feel like being at, I explained some of the new, strange things that happened since my last visit. We always start by recapping my cycle, where I’m at, any cramping, symptoms, etc. I told him that I had a strange bleed that was way too early to be a period and it stopped after one day. It wasn’t even an all-day thing. I went to the bathroom and had a whoosh of red and that was about it. Since then, it’s just been the slightest traces of brown spotting, the ush. I also told him about the increased AMH levels which still have me baffled.

He seemed inquisitive while checking my pulse and eventually asked if I took a HPT. I shook my head and said it has been a long while since I’ve had tests in the house. He understood but said maybe I should take one in a few days. Well, that’s the routine that most women do when trying. Gets close to period, curious and can’t wait any longer so they take a test, and voila!  Not this gal. Nope. Not anymore.

During my session, I had a hard time relaxing. My mind was now racing. Should I buy a test? My coworker just had her baby today – St. Paddy’s, maybe that’s a lucky day? I started putting all the stuff I’ve been so focused on lately, to the back burner. Oh, I could drop the business class. I could drop my gym membership. We could put off Germany and other trips. We could put some of our home projects on hold or switch back to our original plans for the extra bedrooms. Then it got even more ridiculous. My dad’s a twin, maybe there’s still a chance I could have twins? I started picturing myself with a child and became overwhelmed with emotion, so much so that it was exactly how I felt during my very first session back in August of last year. Has it really been that long? I felt tears stream down the sides of my face, just like I did that first session. I thought this had to be it, right? I’ve come full-circle with such emotion on day one and the same emotion on this day. It had to be it.

I left the appointment and had to run a few errands for a small gathering I was having the next night (tonight). There I was, in the grocery store, looking at the dreaded test kits. I hated the thought of spending money on tests but couldn’t shake the appointment I just came from. I’d buy a cheap box of two tests. I’d take one tonight, even though probably still early and then I’d have another one for later. I watched the box travel along the cashier register belt, inconspicuously tucked within my few grocery items and three bottles of wine for my guests, and who was I kidding, for myself. Would the cashier judge me for buying wine AND a pregnancy test? He doesn’t know what I already know. I came home and cleaned the house, keeping busy all night. By the time hubs went to bed, I didn’t feel like taking the test. I just didn’t want to try to go to bed all wound up after a negative result.

So this morning, I said eff it and took a test. I hadn’t peed on a stick in almost three years.

Negative. Yep. A sucker once again. Why do I do this to myself?  I was getting used to the idea of all our other plans, all of our new goals, and I found myself sitting on a toilet looking at a negative test again.  But I didn’t shed a single tear. I think I was mad more than anything. I told myself and will keep telling myself, I’ll be fine either way.

This morning it was back to texts from my husband, excited about planning our trip next year and it will be back to me hosting a nice gathering at the house tonight. Back to daydreaming about turning our basement into a place for entertaining instead of a playroom. Back to thinking about the business I want to start up.

Back to the way things are.

I’ll be fine either way

It’s the mantra that I’ve been telling myself now these past few months, especially after being told I’d likely need a hysterectomy. I’ve started to identify ways to immerse myself and move on.

In just these first three months of the year I’ve managed to finish up a graphic design course that I started last year and actually have a decent handle on the programs, enough that I’ve been able to step in on projects at work. That’s been pretty gratifying. We also decided to buy an iMac so that I could continue building my design skills, and I needed a new computer, anyway.

This year I also signed up for a nine-week course for budding female entrepreneurs, something I never in a million years thought I would do. I’ve been already meeting some wonderful women who are all so encouraging. I literally feel uplifted after each class. I’m starting to actually realize what it is that I want to do. I’m finally putting it down on paper in a business plan. I’m finally talking about it out loud. That feels pretty amazing.

My husband and I worked out a budget plan. We decided to skip all vacations this year so that we could pay off some larger bills and start squirreling away money for next year. We decided we’d like to visit Germany for our 10-year wedding anniversary. In fact, the travel books just arrived yesterday! He’s been thumbing through, writing up some itineraries, and texting me every time he has a new idea. It’s been exciting.

And then my two results came in.

My ultrasound shows a big old mess down there. Three uterine fibroids, fluid, and three ovarian endometrioma cysts, one is a little larger than the others. I wasn’t sure how to decipher everything and figured it would have to wait until my AMH results came in, then I could review both with my RE/surgeon.

And…AMH has increased…again.


Now I know that’s not high, but it’s higher than the .93 from nine months ago and it’s much higher than the .39 from FIVE years ago.

What the hell?

Now the questions come. Why couldn’t this have been my number back when we did four IVF’s? How in the world did it improve over time? Did the lab get it wrong back then? And could that mistake influence the protocols selected that failed? Could I even put myself through yet another round?  I’ll be 42 in less than six months.

We’ve just started making peace.

Here’s the weird thing. I decided to throw myself into all these wonderful things, to prove to myself and even to others that we could have a nice life without children. We’ve started getting used to the idea that this was how it’s going to be, so why not make the plans that have been on hold for six years?

But now this.

This just pulls me right out of our peaceful place and right smack dab back into limbo. The finality of the hysterectomy was almost welcome so that I wouldn’t have to waste another moment of hope when all hope has been lost. I know this all sounds ridiculous to those who haven’t had to deal with this sort of thing, but at some point there comes a time when you have to allow yourself let go, because when does it end? Do we let it go on for a decade? We’ve spent more than half our marriage dealing with this.

I think the only thing left to do is to let it go. If it happens, it happens. I’ll be fine either way.

Difficult week

I knew this would be a rough week. Helping with a big work event coming up this weekend, plus being thrown into other duties using my very green design skills. In addition to my Monday and Wednesday night graphic design class which is winding down, while adding in my new women’s entrepreneur class on Tuesday nights. It’s been so busy and so crazy that I hadn’t even had time to devote to preparing for my appointment today.

Hysterectomy consult was today. I wasn’t even near ready. I had been getting home after 10pm the last three nights and exhausted that I barely scratched down some questions to ask my doctor. It was all set, my husband would be going with me, that was until he was paged to go into work last night and didn’t get home until after 5am. I wasn’t about to drag him out of bed three hours later, so I went alone. It kinda sucked. I needed him there to ask the questions I knew I’d forget. To be another set of ears when everything would get to be too difficult. To be there to hold me up when I finally agreed it was over and time to schedule surgery.

And then, the consult didn’t go nearly as I thought. The doctor didn’t push hysterectomy just yet. He did mention that he understands that it’s difficult facing the decision to stop trying and reminded me that as I’m approaching 42 this year, it’s only that much harder to get pregnant, even via IVF. He mentioned donor eggs again and I just don’t know if I could go there. So for now, he wants to put a few more pieces of the puzzle together first before resorting to hysterectomy. He ordered a repeat AMH test to see if the numbers have dropped significantly and also another ultrasound to see if the cysts are too large. If I have both strikes against me, it’s pretty fair to say the next surgery should probably be a hysterectomy. But if the AMH is still decent, and the cysts need attention, we’d probably opt for a lesser surgery to take care of the cysts. What time this buys me, I don’t know. The reality is I’m still old and only getting older.

When he asked if I had any questions, I completely blanked. I told him I came in with a different mindset, thinking we’d be discussing hysterectomy and that my questions centered around that. I felt foolish not having any good questions but I drew a blank and so wished that my husband could have been there. After the appointment I had the ultrasound and bloodwork done.

And now we wait some more.

I really thought I was done with this. We were moving on. I’m working towards a business plan and our travel plans, design plans, etc. Everything other than TTC. And now I’m right back to not knowing what I even want anymore. It’s that final shred of hope, that feeling of teetering right on the edge of two completely different paths, wondering if I’m making the right decisions. Some days I think it’s so stupid living where we do. Two people rattling around a 2700 SF house. Other days, I think well there’s all these extra rooms that can become work space for our business ventures.

Every day I waffle back and forth. One minute wanting one thing, the next minute something else. Do I stay at current job or do I pursue my dreams? Do I continue TTC and keep putting dreams on hold? I just don’t know anymore. Some days I’m just so exhausted that I feel like we’d be fine with our current situation. Other days I feel like I’m still spinning my wheels because ‘what if?’

I keep thinking about what the doctor said about the difficulty of facing the end of the road and giving up on trying. That’s exactly where I’m at right now. Deep down I know it’s done but I just can’t let go completely. And sometimes, I think a hysterectomy would provide the relief in knowing the decision has been made for me.


I went to a neighbor’s house last night where she was giving a presentation on those popular oils people sell. There was a group of women there, some from the neighborhood and others that she knew from elsewhere. Shortly after settling in for the spiel, I noticed a girl I went to high school with. Haven’t seen many high school classmates in at least 15 years now. The presentation had started and I didn’t want to interrupt with a “Hey! I know you! Class of ’92!” So I awkwardly sat there wondering if she sees me and remembers me. The longer it went on, the more awkward I felt.  Do I even say anything at this point? We’ve been here the better part of an hour now. 

After the presentation, we were looking through the products that were displayed and were able to make a few things to take home to try. This is when she approached me. All I could say was, “I know. I saw you earlier but didn’t want to interrupt.”  We started to catch up by asking how each of us knew the hostess. I told her I live in this neighborhood with her and she told me she used to live near her in the old neighborhood. Small world. And then the bomb was dropped.

“So how many kids do you have?!”

Not “do you have kids?” but “how many?” with such certainty and enthusiasm in waiting to hear my answer.


“Oh! Lucky!”

I started to say “well, that all depends on how you look at it, I suppose” before we were interrupted.

These encounters happen. They’re innocent. They’re never meant with any malice. But they happen. People simply expect that other people have kids. It’s just what you do. I was OK with it but later on I wondered if she was. She approached me again asking when I got married, which was an interesting question like maybe she was doing some quick math in her head. If it was recent, a-ha kid factory must be closed. I told her 2007, nine years ago this fall.

I’m sure this sort of thing is baffling to many, but some couples don’t have kids, by chance or even by choice. The topic quickly changed to our jobs and what we do. I never did ask how many children she had. And I never offered up my history to her. After all, how do you share something like that during a chance meeting with someone you shared homeroom with almost 25 years ago?  I don’t feel like talking about it much at all anymore, with anyone. I hate putting that awkwardness on other people.

So, in that regard, I guess she was lucky.



Things need to change. It’s what I’ve been saying and thinking for quite some time but for various reasons, some legit and some plain old excuses, it never happens. I think having four doctors within a two-week span tell me that I should get a hysterectomy might have something to do with my shift in thinking lately. 

First, it was better health habits in exercise and diet and I even got the hubs to join the gym with me. I never thought I’d see him run without being chased. It’s been a nice thing for us to do together. Like I’ve been saying to him for a while now, “If it’s going to be just you and me, it’s going to be for a long time.” As I’ve started running again a little at a time, I started thinking about training for races again. Last year I didn’t run a single one and I’ve missed it. So, as long as I’m strong, healthy and injury-free, I’m going to join the marathon training group again. I missed the camaraderie and support that being around a group of runners can provide.

Then, I decided I really needed to take care of me and feel good again. I feel like all the stress of the last few years has really aged me and made me feel like I just don’t care anymore. I’ve been making more of an effort when getting ready for work, updating the wardrobe by rediscovering items from the back of my closet (thanks gym!), and adopting a new skin care routine. Hopefully I’ll start looking less dead every day.  I’ve been trying to get better organized at home so that I’m not starting the day spinning in circles and stressed. I’ve been going to bed earlier and getting more sleep.

We also starting thinking about future plans and travel. Traveling is something we enjoy but we also need to pay off more bills, so we decided to not go anywhere this year and really get in a better place financially. There’s no sense in “almost” getting there, but giving in to the temptation of spending more money. Sacrifice this year should mean a better opportunity next year to travel for our 10-year wedding anniversary and possibly start designing our basement project.

The only investment we decided on was a new computer. With the design course I’m taking for work and the possibility of really doing more design work in the future, it was a no-brainer to go with a Mac.  My desktop is ancient and my laptop is fried. As I sit and type on it right now, I’m so thrilled to have a computer again. Even though I signed up for this class primarily for work, it’s definitely helped blow the dust off the creative gears. Some of our projects were centered around a “pretend” company, creating a logo, letterhead and brochures. My pretend company has been my “dream” company and the more I pretend to brand it, the more it’s been on my mind.

And then I did something completely out of my comfort zone. I decided to attend an info session put on by a group who helps budding female entrepreneurs get a business idea off the ground. I’ve been thinking about what I’d rather be doing for years now but every time I try to get started, I haven’t a clue where to begin. So I went to the session and listened to other women speak about their experiences. They now run clothing boutiques, food trucks, candy shops and physical therapy/yoga studios. You name it, it’s being done. I didn’t feel judged by my complete lack of business knowledge and received a very warm and sincere pep talk.

So I’m in! I’m going to sign up for the nine-week program to see if I can develop my ideas into a business venture. Even if I’m still not ready after the nine weeks, I know that pushing myself to do this will result in a real confidence boost, a wealth of knowledge and potentially a whole network of new friends who have “been there.” I couldn’t think any better reasons than that. And I just might have a new business plan. Finally. A chance to do something I love. Something that’s been on hold during this whole crazy TTC life I’ve been living. I can’t believe I’m going to do this!

It’s slowly and quietly been amazing. I didn’t realize that until now. I’ve been plugging along, trying to look at life differently, do new things, and it’s turned into this domino effect of positivity. Just 6 months ago, I didn’t even think that was possible.

4 out of 4 doctors agree

Well, I guess that settles it.

I had an appointment yesterday with my regular, internal medicine doctor as a followup to see how I’m adjusting to some anti-depressants. Yeah, I went there. Things haven’t been so great lately and in the last months of last year, it was almost like I felt this shift where things were getting worse. And then looking ahead and anticipating that things would most definitely get worse, I decided it was time.

So yesterday was simply for her to see how I was doing and decide if the dose and particular med is working for me. My initial thought was, yes it’s helping but I think upping the dose to twice a day would be better. She agreed to that and said that’s the typical dose anyway.

While I had her attention and time, I decided to ask her stance on hysterectomy for endometriosis purposes and that I’ve been gathering opinions and doing research before agreeing to this life-changing surgery. She looked over my history while I told her that I’ve been in the ER twice in the past six months. She said, “you’re 41?” and I nodded and realized just how ridiculous and desperate I must have looked. She asked if we’ve ever been successful at conceiving and I told her we were not. I guess I sort of put her on the spot.

She ultimately agreed that a hysterectomy was probably best for someone like me, whose endo is severe. I’m sure she wanted to deliver those words about as much as I wanted to hear them, but I figured they were coming. We discussed a little bit about some concerns with adjusting post-op, like bone density, hormones, etc. and the importance of having a thorough list of questions ready for the surgeon.

And here’s the funny thing. I haven’t even discussed this with him yet. He was the first doctor to suggest this and we haven’t even talked to the man. I guess I was hoping for a differing opinion, even if just one. So our consult is still planned for March 10, one month from right now. We’ll hear what the good doctor has to say and I’ll be armed with my list. I’m thinking end of year for surgery. I just started working on myself again, working out, hoping to train for a marathon again, and giving some serious thought to career goals. I really don’t want to stop now and be sidelined for two months.

Time to keep up the strength, in so many ways.

Second and third first opinions

It seems like I’m working backwards here but since I already know the direction my RE/surgeon is suggesting I head, I figured I’d use the next month before my consult with him to get a second and even third opinion on a hysterectomy, before technically hearing the first.

And within 24 hours, I’ve received opinions from both and it’s unanimous. I guess I’m scheduling a hysterectomy. I still can’t even wrap my brain around it yet and I’m trying not to let it get to me, while looking for the positives. But there aren’t many right now. Maybe in due time, but not now.

The first doctor I went to for a second opinion, before actually talking with my RE, was an OBGyn who came highly recommended by a friend of a friend who’s been dealing with endometriosis most of her life. While she was never successful with having children, she’s become her own advocate on finding a doctor who will actually listen and have some compassion. So I decided why not start there, with a doctor who could be completely unbiased. I will say, it was a little weird to feel like, “you don’t know me but do you think I should have a hysterectomy?”

But he asked a lot of questions and listened to what I had to say and while I’m no doctor, just hearing myself out loud made me feel like this is a no-brainer. His first question was how bad is your pain on a daily basis? Surprisingly, I told him that I’m fine most of the cycle. It’s just during ovulation and my period that I have issues. And actually, I can expect and deal with the period pains, it’s the mid-cycle surprises that really get me, which prompted two ER visits in 6-months.

He basically said I’m between a rock and a hard place. Based on what I explained, and without seeing all my previous surgeries, it sounded like I have a pretty aggressive case of endometriosis and while there are a few options that I could try to avoid surgery, they would only be temporary. The pill would slow things down but not ideal for me to ride out the next ten years on it while waiting for menopause to kick in. By then, I might still require surgery and it would be far worse and more difficult the longer I put it off. The thought of a colostomy or worse didn’t sound all that appealing.

He also didn’t sugar-coat the surgery and recovery and said that it’s pretty brutal, especially for endometriosis patients because they won’t allow estrogen for a good six months to ensure that any speck of microscopic missed endo would continue to grow. With that, comes a host of other issues until hormones can be balanced again. It sounded terrible and something I really don’t want to go through, but I may not have much choice.

Then he said something that really struck a chord. He said my doctor is in the business of helping women conceive. He wouldn’t suggest a hysterectomy if he didn’t feel it was best. So I guess that helped me realize that I’d be going to the right surgeon for this.

Today, I decided to send my current OBGyn a message, letting her know the latest and to get her opinion as well. And, it was more of the same. She said that my RE is an amazingly talented surgeon and if she walked into his office and he told her it was the time when she needed a hysterectomy, she wouldn’t think twice. She also has like four kids. It seems so easy for doctors who didn’t deal with infertility of their own, or mothers, or other well-meaning family members to all agree that this is the way to go. It’s not them. And even if they had a hysterectomy, they still managed to have children before letting go.

If I could have had one child. Just one. This would all be so much easier. But, part of me feels like just get this over with. End the what-ifs. And if it helps with the pain and the issues and I can live a good life, then I guess that’s what I have to do. So my consult is in March, ironically the month that marks our 6-year milestone of TTC.


The H-word

Sorry to have set this blog to private for a bit. It creeps me out when some of the photos of my home/paint colors (because at one point this was more of an interior design/life blog before it turned ugly with infertility) show up on pinterest. I don’t like the idea of some big pinners in my life finding me and some of my harsh but very real posts.

So on that note…

Last week I took myself to the ER again. I was at work with what started as the usual mid-cycle “I better let hubs know to pencil me in later wink-wink” ovary twinge. When it progressed to serious bloat and increasing pain, I started to worry. Last time this happened I ended up with a kidney infection and a cyst to boot. That cyst hung around for three more cycles.

This time around, it got so bad that I was afraid to drive the 35 miles to the hospital near home so I went to the big main hospital in the city. Plus my husband works there so he could join me while I waited. What a mistake. We waited for three hours and then spent another four hours being “seen.”

I’ll cut to the chase.

Endometrioma-cysts on both ovaries, one of which was leaking, causing me all the pain, bloat, and discomfort I was experiencing. Figures, right? My integrative medicine doctor had just determined that I had a progesterone issue and I started taking some drops in the hopes that it would do the trick. I don’t think there’s any magic drops to take when big, fat cysts keep popping up.

So I went home and read over the discharge papers which included something new for me. Hydrosalpinx. I’ve seen that word before in all my years of TTC research but never really looked into it. But from the sound of it, there’s fluid building up in my tubes which can be toxic and even if by some miracle an egg squeezed by and fertilized, it probably wouldn’t stick due to the toxic sludge environment the fluid is creating.

I sent a message to the fertility chair, who did my surgery back in June, so that he was up to speed on the second ER visit in 6-months time and his nurse said she’d pass the info along and call me back with his thoughts. I already knew deep in my heart what he would suggest.

The H-word.


Game over.

When the nurse said the word today, it literally took my breath away, even though I was expecting it. So I guess that’s it. We’ve made an appointment for a consult to discuss the options. I could have gone next month but pushed it out to March so that my husband could get the day off and go with me. It also gives me more time to get a second and maybe even third opinion. It’s not that I’m grasping at straws because I know our ship has sailed, but it’s about making absolutely certain it’s the right decision before having all my lady parts scooped out.

12 days of Christmas

Work event wrapped up and then I had to wrap up a ton at work before taking some much needed time off.

Find out that I did not have an acupuncture appointment scheduled for the week but miraculously was able to get one. Soon as I try to relax, I start having a tickle cough that just won’t quit. I laid there with tears streaming down trying to suppress my cough. What a waste of an appointment.

Next morning, yep, now I’m sick.

Spend time with family while trying to finally shop for Christmas with less than a week to go. Did I mention I was sick? So annoying trying focus when feeling like shit.

Next day, yep, husband is now sick.

Now we’re even closer to the holiday yet there’s still so much to do and we both feel like shit.

Find out that the sizable reimbursement check I was supposed to get from work wasn’t submitted properly, money we definitely needed for the holidays. Should have received it Christmas eve. Didn’t.

Couple days later I have a doctors appointment that I set over a month ago to discuss depression and anxiety and the possibility of going on antidepressants because I just can’t take it anymore. When discussing my bouts of heart palpitations,  she orders an EKG. Detects an abnormality.

Next night, the lights on the top third of our Christmas tree go out. Worked fine all month.

Christmas eve morning I’m out having an echocardiogram,  because doesn’t everyone on that day? No results given due to holiday so I’ll likely have to wait until Monday.

Christmas eve mass is held at the high school, but we get shut out of the auditorium so we get to sit in the cafeteria overflow section. Can’t see the projection screen, can’t hear the priest, can’t even focus to pray and enjoy the hymns.

Come home to find our outdoor lights stopped working. Just bought those less than a month ago.

Have a nice Christmas eve with family. Finally something nice.

Christmas morning husband and I exchange gifts and Santa was good to both of us this year. I decide to go for a run, something I haven’t done much lately.

I picked out a Christmas themed shirt and even wore a Santa hat. I wanted to get in a good place, have a positive outlook for the day. It was Christmas, after all.

As I ran, I noticed a penny on the ground and thought about those old sayings, like “pennies from heaven” or picking up a “lucky penny.” I left it, thinking how I need a lot more than just luck. I continued on and thought about the future.  I thought about how I need to get to a place where I’ll be ok. I’ll need to move on. I’ll need to be happy. If that means antidepressants, so be it.

I started feeling a little better and actually enjoying my run when I noticed something else on the ground, in the street, near the curb.

A pregnancy test. Really. A pregnancy test in the road. Our trash day was the day before, so maybe it fell out?  I’m out trying to clear my head, on a run, on Christmas day, and I get to see a fucking pregnancy test at my feet. I’m not kidding. I can’t even make this shit up. If my phone wasn’t so firmly strapped to my arm, I just might have taken a picture.

Why. Why? WHY???  Seriously. It’s just a big “FUCK YOU” slap in the face via the universe and who cares that it’s Christmas.

Then we celebrate with my family. Everything is good. We eat, we laugh, we open presents. My mom and step-dad just finished opening the gifts from us, gifts I was pretty happy with for them. Then they open a gift from my step brother and his wife. It was like I was caught in the line of fire.

There it was, their “Announcement.”  Mugs printed for Papa and Nana. My mom will be a grandma again. MY mom. Only it’s not because of us.

So there you have it. There it is. Christmas of 2015.

December 26, 2015 I will start my antidepressants. How timely. And maybe Monday I’ll hear back regarding my heart, but I don’t need any tests or doctors telling me what I already know.

That it’s broken.