Uppercase Woman

Finally, the Tattoo Post

Well, today it was 82 degrees in San Juan. Sarah is probably so covered in freckles right now that she looks utterly adorable. She's been bugging me FOREVER to do this post (ever since she shot the photos), so I'm doing it while she's away because I am a bitch like that.

So! Ready? You might have to open two windows to see all of this. I suggest right-clicking on the link to the photos so you can view them while reading my unnecessarily lenghty explanations. Heh. Don't think you can just scroll through the album either--you must do this in order. Or else. Something.

OK! I have wanted to be tattooed since I was a kid. When I was in middle school, I used to draw a peace sign onto my wrist every day, and claimed that it would be my first tattoo (I also mentioned how easily it could be covered by a watch). But it wasn't until my early twenties that I actually started getting them; I started collecting just as the tattoo craze was getting underway.

This is my left arm. My poor pudgy left arm. Take a nice long look. This is from elbow to shoulder.

Now, look again at this version. Look! It's numbered!

1. This was my very first tattoo. I got it back in 1991 or 92 (hey, I was drunk!). I remember after I got it, my mother said, "But it's so big!" HA HA HA HA HA. It is a "Zia" symbol (hey--that's in my blog address!); the Navajo symbol for 'sun.' It's also on the New Mexico state flag. Sadly, the guy who did it was very high (although he's rather famous in the tattoo world--he did the famous tattoo of zippers running up the back of a woman's legs), and the ink never took correctly. It's been touched up a couple of times, but as you can see, it's still kinda missing some spots. It wasn't until several years after I got the tattoo I realized that in one of the photos I have of my father he has the same tattoo in the same place. Feel free to ponder that if you like.

2. This is actually a cover-up. I was briefly attending an Artist's Way  group and a painter was discussing the beauty and possibilities of a blank canvas. For some reason, I decided to get a blank canvas tattoo. And I decided to ask my friend Web, who was brand new at tattooing, to do the tattoo. If I had gone to a more experienced artist, that artist would have told me that it is impossible to hold white ink--your skin is always darker than the ink, and eventually it will fade away. But Web tried. And he hammered the ink in--going over it and over it and over it. It hurt like a mother fucker, and then my cat licked it. If you don't know that cats have the WORST bacteria in their mouths, well, now you do. It got infected. Badly. It sloughed off for weeks--huge pieces of it just rotting off. Eventually, it healed, and I ended up with what looked like a giant burn mark with a black line around it. Lovely, it was. Eventually, I went to a tattoo show and met a lovely woman artist who designed this lovely tribal pattern, topped with...

3. Violets! I love violets. I love that they bloom so early in spring, I love the depth and beauty of their color. I also love the fact that you can put them in salads. And I love the fact that the flower we call violets is NOT the actual blossom of the plant, but a ploy to fool you. The blossom is tiny and brown and near the ground. Love that.

4.  These are pretty standard Japanese Tattoo-style wind clouds. A very common filler in tattooing--a way to connect the images.

5. This is a variation on the Japanese Tattoo-style cherry blossom. Sadly, it's not perfect, since the outline for the clouds was done by an artist that moved across the country in the middle of my tattoo without telling me. The artist that finished it suggested the cherry blossoms, and I think they add quite a lot.

Moving on! This is my right arm. Probably my favorite collection of my tattoos; how much do you love that blue? Here's your numbers.

1. You may recognize this little guy and say, "hey! Are you a big fan of the band Sick Of It All?" (if you click on the link for the band, you'll see the symbol I mean). To which I'd say, "Huh?" I got this tattoo on my honeymoon. We had very little money, and Charlie and I picked out two tiny tattoos to get done by the famous Peggy Hurley (what, you've never heard of her?). She was very kind to us, since we were pretty new. I do believe this was my third tattoo.

2. This tattoo has the most complicated explanation. Many years ago, back when I was still drinking, I was reading a copy of National Geographic and came across an article about the Pazyryk Ice Maiden. The Pazyryk tribe lived on the border of Siberia and China, and were a horse people that survived in that harsh weather. The "Ice Maiden" was some sort of priestess, based on what she was buried with (four horses, several men, a large wooden headpiece). Because the tundra there never fully thaws, parts her body were still intact. And she had these two tattoos. I fell in love with them, and for years--while I was drinking (I'm still amazed)--hung on to the issue. My friend Web offered to do the tattoo as a wedding present. While he was more experienced at that point, he still wasn't great at detail (here' s another version of the top half of the tattoo--it's amazing). But I love the tattoo, especially since Web killed himself about five years ago.

3.  Again, with the Japanese Tattoo style filler. These are standard waves. I just adore them.

Moving on again!

This is my back. One should never have to look at one's own back.  Here is the numbered version.

1. This is a native american style thunderbird. Or is supposed to be. Many people have asked if it's a white supremacy tattoo. I assure you it is not. By the way--not a good idea to get all red. My skin does not really like red ink.

2.  Another recovery-inspired tattoo. I thought maybe if I got "faith" tattooed on me, I might actually get some. I really like the cool typewriter style font.

3.  This is a native american style bear claw. I got it in North Carolina on an actual reservation. It was fun. I had hoped that my next tattoo would have been the Navajo image of Mother Earth and Father Sky, but before I got that done, most Native American tribes asked us white people to please stop getting their history and culture tattooed on our bodies because we thought it was cool. I'm honoring that request, and may cover the bear claw and the thunderbird at some point as well.

4. My girl! She is based on an original design by Coop, a guy famous for his devil girls. Apparently, his wife is a woman "of size" and he frequently does hot porno style drawings of fat chicks. Here is the original image. As you can see, I made her a brunette (natch), and put her in a tank top. I also put her in killer platform boots, and asked the artist to pump up her ass, hips, thighs and boobs so she'd look more, you know, like me. I lurve her.

And there you have it! The only thing missing is the tattoo I have on my left ankle, a lovely little cat that Charlie drew. I wouldn't let Sarah photograph it since I hadn't shaved my legs.

I hope you enjoyed this tour of my body. You know all about the inside, now you've learned about the outside! Fun for all, I'm sure.

Nothing to say, really...*pregnancy stuff mentioned at length*

So, it's Tuesday, and it's 83 degrees and partly sunny in San Juan, Puerto Rico, where Sarah and Pete are basking in love/sex/food/sun while I sit at work trying to get the energy up to put up more holiday decorations and cheerfully sell artwork to the public.

What, me jealous? Noooooooo.

I feel like I have nothing to say. Sigh. I have a couple of post ideas (I hope to FINALLY do that tattoo post sometime soon), but I have no enthusiasm.

It's driving me crazy.

I'm currently 9.2 weeks pregnant. Is it just me, or is this the LONGEST MOTHERFUCKING FIRST TRIMESTER IN HISTORY? Cause I feel like I've pregnant for YEARS. Seriously.

I shouldn't complain. So much about this pregnancy is different already than the last one. Here's a little breakdown:

1. While I have pretty rotten morning sickness, I have not actually thrown up (I've been very, very close but I'm afraid if I let myself puke I'll never stop again). Last pregnancy, I puked three to five times a day, including getting up at 2am to puke.

2. I'm tired and spacey, but I can manage to put in a full day without much of a break, and still go to a meeting or go swimming at night. Well, I was until last week when I was too tired, but I'm hoping that I'll bounce back a bit this week. Last pregnancy, I was unable to work a full day without napping for an hour or two. And even then, I could barely wake up in the mornings and couldn't keep my eyes open at night.

3. I have managed to keep my weight gain to just a few pounds. I'll see when I go to the RE's on Thursday what they say, but so far it's only been about three or four pounds I've gone up. Even with Thanksgiving! Considering that I'm pretty bloated and have a fair amount of fluid in my legs, that's awesome. Even with my rotten morning sickness, I managed to eat in the last pregnancy-- and I let myself eat whatever I wanted. By this point in the pregnancy, I'd gained 17 pounds. Eek. By the time I lost the boys, I'd gained nearly 70 lbs. Of course, most of that was fluid and the twins--I lost fifty pounds the first week I was home from the hospital--but it was pretty uncomfortable.

4. I have had no spotting at all *knocking wood*. Last time I had three dramatic bleeding episodes in the first trimester. It was awful; I'd find my underwear full of blood and have to rush in for an ultrasound. It's well known that twin pregnancies have more spotting than singletons, and that IVF pregnancies also spot. But it still sucked. It's been really nice to have a more "normal" pregnancy.

5. I had constant headaches last time, including an optical migraine which landed me in the emergency room (they were afraid it was a blood clot from all the estrace I was taking). Today I have the first headache of this pregnancy, and tylenol and a little caffeine seem to have straightened it out. I think the cause of the headaches last time was the huge drug load I was on; doing a "natural" cycle this time seems to have been the right choice.

6. Morning sickness treatments WORK. Last pregnancy, I could guzzle ginger ale, eat potato chips and drink lemonade, eat candied ginger, take Vit B6, even take Zofran and it would all have little if any effect on my nausea. This time, lots of things help. Oddly enough, one of the best cures I've found is those so-called "energy drinks" particularly the "Monster" brand. I know they have caffeine, so I don't drink them all day (I try to have only one every other day or so), but something about that vitamin/caffeine/carbonation combo really settles my stomach out. And while I know that caffeine is "bad" (although most docs say you can have a cup of coffee or the equivalent each day without a problem), it also helps keep my fluid retention in check (caffeine being an effective diuretic).

7. I'm able to moderate my food intake, and eat pretty healthily. I've had fast food only once or twice in this pregnancy; I've been able to include lots of healthy vegetables; I've been able to include yogurt nearly daily (yogurt is supposed to be the best way to get calcium and help prevent preeclampsia, or so some internet link told me); I've been able to watch my salt pretty well. The last pregnancy, I did no such thing. I ate almost no vegetables, I ate lots of ice cream and other sweet things (they were the only things that sat right, or so I thought). The healthiest thing I managed to eat in the last pregnancy was mashed potatoes.

8. I do not have excessive fluid retention. I have some-- you can push a 1/4 inch deep dent on my calves with your finger-- but it's nothing like last time, although the worst of my bloating may have come later. Last time my ankles disappeared; my shoes size grew by two sizes; and at the end of the day, I was actually afraid my toes would explode. Does anyone remember the leaking legs after accupunture that I had last time (the spots where the needles had been would seep clearish fluid for hours afterward--I'd end up taping little piece of paper towels to my legs to sop it up)? Yeah. That's so not happening this time (although I haven't had an accupunture, blast it. Can't afford it).

So, as you can see, things are different this pregnancy. I'm very eager to move on to the second trimester and hopefully stop feeling so sick, and have a little more energy. Funnily enough, the next trimester begins on New Year's Day. So if I can just make it through these next few weeks...

Next ultrasound/bloodwork is scheduled for Thursday night. It will most likely be my last visit to the RE, since I'll be seeing Dr. Mama (my OB) on Dec 6 for the first time and I'd like my care to be managed by just one doctor. My RE doesn't normally like to release pregnant patients until about 14 weeks, but they are eager to get rid of someone as high risk as I am, so they agreed that was best.

Thank god. My RE is very good at what he does, but he employs every fucking subnormal person in the state of New Jersey. It's just so weird--his staff is just odd. With the exception of the ultrasound techs-- they are pretty awesome (particularly the one who says within two seconds of wand insertion "baby with a heartbeat"; love her). The blood techs are odd but very, very good. I rarely have a bad experience there. But MAN the women behind the front desk. Sheesh.

Wow, for someone with nothing to say...

Thanks

Ten years ago on Thanksgiving day, I had to graciously decline to join Charlie and his mother for a yummy turkey dinner because I was ill.

Or, more actually, I was bleeding.

At that point I'd been doing so many drugs that I was bleeding from every place I could. I was bleeding from my nose, my mouth, I was coughing blood, there was blood coming out of my ass. The drugs I'd been doing at that time were very, very pure. I think I was bleeding internally. I hadn't slept in six weeks.

The next morning, Charlie put me on a plane and sent me to my tenth high school reunion (where I descended on my poor unsuspecting friend Leah). He was terrified for me, but I think it saved my life. When I arrived, I slept for 24 straight hours and was able to enjoy the weekend to some extent.

But I spent every single moment dreaming about drugs, wishing I could get drugs, wondering where I could go to buy them. Once I got home, I went right back to the drugs. For another three weeks; December 21, 1995 is the day I overdosed, and the last day I used.

Last year on Thanksgiving, Charlie and I were supposed to go to his aunt's for dinner when we realized that we just couldn't do it. We couldn't be good guests. The grief over losing the boys was just too fresh. We didn't think we could be polite. So we went to Elise's, who welcomed us with open arms and an open heart and fit us in around her crowded table.

This year, we were back at Elise's, in her beautiful new house. The table was full of good people, good food, and good pie. I have rarely enjoyed a holiday more.

I'm so grateful that I'm sober. I'm so grateful that I don't feel the way I did this time last year. And I can say, tentatively, that I'm grateful to be pregnant again, for another chance at giving birth to a child. As scared as I am.

I'm grateful for Charlie, for his deep love and constant support. I'm grateful for Sarah, and for Pete, even though they are going to Puerto Rico next week. I'm grateful to know Sarah's daughter, and Elise's. With these people in my life, it's clear that I'm a lucky woman.

So Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Even with shadows on the horizon and the fear in my heart, I am grateful. I wish each and everyone one of you good things, and hope that at least one wish comes true for you before the end of the year.

And a final political note before the holiday...

Sing it, sister.

Have a great holiday, everyone!

And the Right rumbles on, smashing everything...

Well, you all know how I feel about Bush's latest nominee to the Supreme Court. I've told you before. This is old news, of course, but now concrete evidence that he is strongly anti-choice and would be thrilled to vote against any cases regarding protecting the right to abortion has surfaced.

This proof, of course, is in a form he filled out while applying for a job in the Reagan White House. According to the Washington Times (I'm using a conservative news source, people, take note), he said the following:

"It has been an honor and source of personal satisfaction for me to serve in the office of the Solicitor General during President Reagan's administration and to help to advance legal positions in which I personally believe very strongly," he wrote.

"I am particularly proud of my contributions in recent cases in which the government has argued in the Supreme Court that racial and ethnic quotas should not be allowed and that the Constitution does not protect a right to an abortion."

Great. So he's anti-woman, and whatever you may feel about the need for quotas now, we sure needed them back in 1985 when Alito wrote this. His incredibly lame defense? That he was applying for a job, so of course he had to sound like he agreed with the President.

Um, isn't that what you're doing now, Mr. Alito?

I realize that stopping him is probably nearly impossible, but I will sign petitions and march and call my congressman anyway in an attempt to make my views knows.

If you'd like to join me, here is a petition you can sign on-line and send in if you like. Fight the power and all that.

Another area in which Bush is forcing his moral stance down the throats of other countries is in the case of Uganda. Up until Bush became president, Uganda was a shining example of turning the African AIDS crisis around. Uganda's HIV numbers had plateaued thanks to an excellent education campaign that focused on three things: abstinence, fidelity, and condoms (I heard all of this from a BBC report that I cannot find to link to, so you'll have to trust me, and follow the links I did find for further info).

But the numbers of new HIV cases are again on the rise thanks to an increase in abstinence-only education, and the complete disappearance of condoms from AIDS-fighting advertising campaigns. This is due in part from local pressure from religious groups, but it's also because the Bush administration denies aid to any country that uses the money to promote any contraceptive use--and that includes condoms.

So Uganda, a country in which the AIDS rate was as high as 30% and is now currently closer to 5%, can no longer promote condom use as a way to prevent the spread of AIDS.

This is horrifying, and embarrassing. I don't get it. I understand that the religious right wants everyone to wait to have sex until they're married. FINE. WHATEVER.

But many, many of the people that get sick in countries like Uganda are faithful, monogamous women who are married to men that are NOT faithful. One woman I heard in the report had had only one sexual partner--her husband. And now she and her children are all dying of AIDS, because her husband visited a sex worker and did not use a condom.

I would love to believe the best of people. Really I would. But the world is full of motherfuckers, and until that changes, I want condoms to be handed out on the streets like advertising flyers. Remember, the original campaign in Uganda promoted abstinence first, fidelity second, and condoms LAST and this decreased the spread of the disease.

Imagine what would happen to HIV and AIDS if everyone was told the power a condom has to prevent the spread of the disease. Just imagine.

Honest IS the best policy

Thanks, guys, for the great response to my last post. I apologize for not writing since, but our computer at home died and is in the shop, so I didn't get a chance to post again until now.

While my intention was NOT to get you all to "kiss my ass" (thanks, MFAmama, hee hee), it was really nice to have so much support.

I guess I intended the post as a kind of warning; I will be discussing my pregnancy here, and I will complain about it because pregnancy and I DO NOT GET ALONG. As Abby said, because pregnancy and I have such a difficult time together, it becomes difficult to "see the baby for the pregnancy."

When I'm spending yet another day on the couch feeling like I have the remnants of a rotten egg in my stomach, exhausted beyond belief even though I've slept 18 out of the last 24 hours, it's very hard to remember that I'm pregnant. Because I feel sick, and that makes me depressed. I've tried hard to do some visualizations of Charlie and I holding our baby in an attempt to keep my focus on the hoped-for outcome, but it's hard.

I wish gratitude was an option in this pregnancy. Wait, that sounds wrong. I am grateful that I'm pregnant, and that I seem to get pregnant every time I do an IVF cycle. I DO realize how rare that is and how lucky I am (although it's not a shock since our primary issue had always been male factor), and I feel blessed in that area.

However, I have no real faith that a baby is going to be the end result of this pregnancy. I mean, come on. So far I have almost ALL of the same issues I had in the last pregnancy; the sickness, the water retention, the high blood pressure. It's very, very difficult to imagine anything other than suffering another loss at this point. I've already decided that I'll ask my friends to not throw me a shower until the baby is born. I just can't bear the thought of a house full of baby things and no baby.

So while I would love to walk through this pregnancy shrouded in "an attitude of gratitude," it ain't gonna happen. Instead I will spend this whole pregnancy waiting for the other shoe to drop. If by some miracle we make it to the 30-week mark, I'll be begging the doctors to take the baby out before I kill it.

This is hard, people.

So anyway, that was the point of my last entry. To warn you folks that I'm a complainer when pregnant, and to feel free to skip this blog when you're having a bad day. I will understand.

Now, on to more fun things.

_____________________________________________

I saw two movies this weekend. The first is the best movie no one is  seeing called Kiss Kiss Bang Bang staring Robert Downey Jr and Val Kilmer.

Now, I actually dislike Val Kilmer, but found him surprisingly enjoyable in this movie. I adore Robert Downey Jr. Partially because of the junkie code (all us junkies gotta stick together) and partially because he's just so fucking GOOD at what he does. Plus he has this cool Al Pacino thing happening to his face that is making him more and more attractive with each passing year.

The movie was a kind of film noir, filled with snappy lines and great asides (one of my favorites was when Robert Downey Jr's character is asked at an LA party what he does, he say, "Retired, actually. I invented dice, as a child").

So go see it, if you can find it. You won't regret it.

The other movie was Walk the Line (no, it wasn't Harry Potter although skipping that movie this weekend nearly KILLED ME).

I love Johnny Cash. LOVE HIM. I mean, how could you not? With that deep voice, the true love with June Carter, that grizzled face, and his big, meaty hands? But I was nervous seeing the movie, especially when Sarah told me that Joaquin Phoenix did the singing in the movie.  How could a softie like Joaquin pull off the gruffness of the man in black?

The answer is, brilliantly. He did a wonderful job (largely because he was playing the young Mr. Cash), and the singing was quite good (although he's a baritone, not a bass like Mr. Cash, so it was all keyed a little higher). Reese Witherspoon was perfect as June Carter (although Reese is actually a better singer; June Carter kind of sucked, sadly).

I really enjoyed it.

After we saw the movie, I was watching videos on Country Music Television (you know, for kicks) and was struck by the fact that current country music is, for lack of a better word, full of pussies. Yes, my feminist readers, I tried very hard to think of a different word, but frankly, it's the one that fits.

I mean, Keith Urban? COME ON. He's more styled and highlighted than fucking Britney Spears. GIVE ME A BREAK.  Kenny Chesney? DULLSVILLE. But at least he wears a fucking cowboy hat.  Rascal Flatts? What the fuck are they, Boys To Country? PUH-LEASE.

Johnny Cash walked the line, people. The closest these boys get is the line their choreographers put on stage.

Give me the real men of country any day. Merle Haggard, George Jones, Waylon Jennings, and of course, Johnny Cash.

Ahem. So, um, go see the movie. Yeah.

Blah, blah, BLAH

There's been a lot of talk in the infertility blogosphere of late about what's the right thing to say and write and who's bitter and who isn't and yada yada yada. It's a recurring theme.

I've been thinking about it quite a bit, because I've been at the center of those storms before. In the my last pregnancy, people got angry when I complained about my morning sickness or being tired. They felt that I should be grateful for every time I dry-heaved over the sink because after all, I was pregnant, the infertile's dream.

And let's not even discuss the insanity that erupted when I found I was having twin boys and was sad I wasn't having a girl (look at the comments section and the next several entries if you want the whole juicy story. heh).

Being pregnant at the time all this went on, and fairly new to blogging, I took all of this stuff waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too personally. In fact, I was devastated.

Thankfully, the incredible compassion, warmth and support I received after losing the boys changed the picture for me. Without my readers and fellow bloggers, I think I would have lost my mind completely. You all held me together when I cracked in half with grief.

Then of course came the attacks from folks like Holly, people who believed I'd killed my babies unnecessarily and was in fact an evil murderer instead of a grieving almost-mother. Boy, did my hide thicken up then.

Over the last year, this blog has evolved into being an amazing place where liberals and conservatives meet, talk, disagree, and stay friends. So many of you have softened my thinking and educated me--even if we still don't agree. Just the other day Elena and I were discussing the fact that I'd said that test results could effect the outcome of this pregnancy. While mostly declining to argue with her, I appreciated the fact that she thinks enough of me that she believes I would be a wonderful mother to a special needs child.

The friendships I've developed over the last year-and-something are so important to me, I don't know what I'd do without them. Thank you all for being a part of my life.

But I know many of you are still on the road; struggling to get pregnant, stay pregnant, or fighting the mighty forms and other hurdles of adoption. I know my bitching about morning sickness and fatigue is gonna piss you off and make you feel left out in the cold.

I'm sorry.

I haven't written much this last couple of days because I've been thinking about that. Most of what I have to say of late is about the fact that the increased blood pressure medicine and increased progesterone have left me feeling pretty awful. I'm cranky, chronically exhausted, and feel like each limb weighs an extra hundred pounds. And I knew that no one really wanted to listen to my whining.

But unlike some people who feel like they put a different face in their blog than they have in real life, the thoughts and feelings you find here are really me. Honest. Ask Sarah or Charlie (although Charlie won't be able to respond since our home computer blew up and is currently at the shop). So what to do with a blog written primarily for other infertiles by an infertile that's pregnant?

As far as I can tell, the only thing to do is to either a) stop writing or b) be honest.

Which option do you think I'll chose?

Linkity Goodness

Ug. Morning sickness has worsened over the weekend (although I have still not actually puked), and I feel like I've been hit by a truck today. I think it's the increase in progesterone suppositories that is making me feel oh so tired. The good news is that I have a meeting with my boss and my boss's boss this afternoon and I didn't shower this morning. Yee fucking ha.

Thanks so much for all of your advice and feedback over the last few days. You all helped me make decisions about prenatal testing, chemical sweeteners, and other things. I'm going with Splenda, the first trimester nuchal fold test, and waiting to color my hair until after this trimester (no, I didn't change the color between photos. That's just a lighting thing). For those of you that asked, yes, prenatal test results do matter to me, and could change the outcome.

That's about all I have to say, but here are some interesting links and stuff...

We all know John Cusack is the hottest, but here's further proof. Ok, there are some grammatical errors and typos and weird ??? but still, his heart is in the right place.

I saw Pride & Prejudice this weekend and must say that I am mightily impressed by Miss Keira Knightly. The chickie (and I say that in reference to her age, not her sex) managed to hold her own brilliantly in a scene with JUDI DENCH. She totally rocked it. The movie was wonderful too (although it was no Sense & Sensibility).

This is an awesome campaign that makes me want to shop at the store it advertises. Oh, but wait, they were a bunch of pussies and pulled it. Oh well.

This story just makes so very sad. I only know a little bit about the Bushmen (my minor knowledge comes from a couple anthropology courses and that movie from the 80's The Gods Must Be Crazy). I think it sucks and it makes me angry and hate humanity all the more.

I also saw Derailed this weekend. It had some major problems; Clive Owen cowering on the floor in fear? Not believable. It was a lot harsher than I thought it would be, but I still called every plot twist before it happened. That doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy it though. I did, actually.

That's all I got folks. What's up with you?

Quickie

Blood work ok, but progesterone down quite a bit. Probably because I kinda sorta forgot toput in my middle-of-the-day suppository for a few days. So going from 200mg three times a day to 400mg twice. But that's ok because I'm phasing out the estrace, so it all balances out.

And, oh, my dear Christian friends: this is NOT the woman you want representing you (via Cricket). Scroll down for video.

A-OK

Heartbeat detected. Perfectly normal. Embryo measuring six weeks and five days (a mere two days shy of being a fetus, I do believe). All is well.

With the baby, anyway. My blood pressure was a rocking 150/89. Course, I found myself being a TOTAL FUCKING WRECK while waiting for the appointment, so I'm not too surprised.

But the good news is that after my ultrasound, blood work, weight (holding steady!), and BP, I was ushered into an office to meet with... wait for it... not a nurse, but...

A DOCTOR! Imagine that. And that doctor wrote me a script for blood pressure medication (aldomet, I believe it's called. The bottle is upstairs and I'm a lazy ass, so I'm not going to go get it). Right there in the office. I'm going to double check it with my OB, keep track of my BP at home, but I actually feel relieved that it's being treated.

So that is all. Update with blood work results tomorrow.