How many languages do you you speak?
Much to my grandmother’s dismay, I only speak one language. I remember enough spanish from high school/college, but not enough hold a decent conversation. Do Italian hand gestures count? Lol.
What are you reading, watching, listening to, eating?
I am not reading anything fun right now, just Google’s best practices for Adwords (sorry Google). I just wrapped up a Netflix marathon of the Great British Baking Show. I have the Spotify Daily Mixes blasting away right now. Spotify has caught on to my lack of interest in today’s music and has been feeding me an odd mix of my favorite bands from my college days. It’s a little bit beck, a little bit Blind Melon, and a touch of White Zombie, with a sprinkle of Pearl Jam. It goes well with my peanut butter sandwich.
What was the last photo you took with your phone?
My lunch, lol. Some of my coworkers and I are doing a 30 day “No Added Sugar” thing. I sent the group a picture of my lunch as proof that day 1 is off to a good start.
What is your favorite time of day?
If it’s a workday, then it is most definitely the end of my workday. If’ Hubby is working a day tour, then it’s when he gets home. (awwww) If I have really tasty left overs waiting for me, then it’s whenever it’s time to eat!
Totally grateful that I have such a good jogging cheerleader and I survived my first week of jogging! Also grateful that I completed our adoption website which is now live. (shameless plug – http://www.dougandmiaadopt.com) Looking forward to 3 more jogging dates (and fitting into the dress I need for an upcoming event).
This was a response post to Cee’s Share Your World
It was such a nice day on Saturday and despite my seasonal allergies rebelling against me, I wanted to go to a park. The problem was I had to find one first. I have lived in this little suburban town for almost two years, but the only exploring I managed to do so far led me to doughnuts and ice-cream, lol. So I hit the Google and found a very nice park not too far of a walk from home.
It was a very nice park. It had baseball and soccer fields, and a large shady picnic area in the middle. There’s a pool and even a sprinkler park for the little ones. There is even a recreational center where I can take yoga or zumba for only $5 a class! Here’s a quick little slideshow of some of the pics I took.
I had been telling mom about my day and we started reminiscing about the little park down the street from where I grew up. It was much smaller, mainly just swings and one of those metal round-about-spinning-things that always made kids throw up.
She would push us in the swings and we would sing. I would be in the bucket seat. The old school one made out of hot black rubber with a tiny metal bar to hold you in. My sister would be in the big kid swing also made of hot black rubber. (It was the ’80s. If your flesh wasn’t scalded by the swings or the slides you weren’t having fun, lol.)
In the spirit of Sunday’s springtime nostalgia, I thought I would share some of the songs we would swing to and sing.
What were your favorite childhood songs?
I’ll get a tall instead of a grande. I will have oatmeal instead of a doughnut. I will start the diet on Monday. It’s only a quick search. The odds are forever not in your favor.
Five hours later you’re still on the couch hunched over your laptop. Eyes dry. Back hurts. Fingers cramped. There’s a half empty peanut butter pretzel tub at your feet you don’t remember opening. Your cell is buzzing furiously. You really have pee. Sound familiar?
That happened to me every time I hopped on Pinterest during our wedding planning. That was also me trying to find out why my python code had me stuck in an error loop. That was me again, a couple of weeks ago, when I first started researching adoption.
Entering one innocent word into an internet search can take you down a wibbly-wobbly time-suck. Sometimes the abundance of material found is worth your eyes feeling like they are bleeding. Other times you are led down a wormhole of bad advice. You come out the other side convinced you are dying because someone on the internet suggested you were.
Lucky for me this has only happened a couple of times recently. I seem to have an alternative route for now. Knock on wood.
Most of my early searching seemed to suggest I was better off reading a book instead of the world wide web. I admit snapping up a horde of books. I say the more the merrier! Especially, if you are a Kindle Unlimited member. Just saying.
My digital pile consists of an assortment of books written from different perspectives. Adoptive Parents, Adoption lawyers, Adoption experts, etc. I think I chose a good mix.
I am working my way through a few Foster to Adopt books right now, but here are a few of the ones I completed. I got the most out of these:
I have gone back to the internet armed with a better idea of how to narrow down my researching. I no longer dive in and hope to come up for air with some reliable websites. Here are a few that I flagged. The information seems to reinforce what I have learned from the books so far.
Tomorrow I will order the grande instead of the tall. I will stare at the doughnut, but order the oatmeal. Maybe I will start the diet on Monday. It wont be a quick search, but it will be an organized one. I won’t ignore my phone. I won’t forget to pee. I will finish the peanut butter pretzels.
First comes love.
I was thirty seven when I first met my husband in 2013. We were introduced by a mutual friend via a text I insisted she didn’t send. A spontaneous road trip to China Town for dumplings became our first date. I felt at home sharing dinner with the EMS family of this man I had only met a few hours before.
I had started skipping periods a couple of years before we met. I assumed it was stress related. A lot happened in a really short time. I moved twice. I changed jobs. My father, who had never had more than a cold, was suddenly in hospital. Doctors found problems with his kidneys. Then his bladder. He underwent surgery. We finally got him out of hospital and into rehab. Shortly after he passed.
The discussion of family and future children came a few months into our relationship. By then my cycle had settled into skipping a month a time. I had also learned that my grandmother (maternal) was in her thirties she went into premature menopause. The question switched from do I, to can I?
Then comes marriage.
I was thirty-eight when Doug proposed. Exactly one year and two days after our first date. We were back at the station surrounded by dumplings and our EMS family. Doug got down on one knee. I yanked the ring out the box before he could finish asking, lol!
It had been a busy year Doug had been promoted from EMS to FIRE. There was a wedding to plan. There was our future family to think about. I brought up my concerns with my then Gynecologist. He ran a full panel of blood work on me. He could not find any reason for the irregular period. He did show concern that the Anti-Mullerian Hormone results were abnormal for my age. Meaning my egg reserve was low. Repeating the test did not improve the result.
I was just shy of thirty-nine when Mom walked me down the aisle, our arms linked. The Church’s pianist was playing Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. The closer to Doug I reached, the more tears that threatened to spill over. After our Deacon pronounced us official, we turned to face our newly combined families. Hands linked and held high above our heads, I may have let out a loud “Yes!” as we walked out the church to Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus on the organ. Hallelujah indeed!
Six months later and my cycle had changed yet again. I went from every other month to one every two months. I had since changed gynecologists, and this was my first visit to the new doctor. He expressed some concerns about my cycle and age. He took sonograms, tests, and more blood work.
All but one test came back normal. The AMH was still abnormal. My egg reserve had dwindled even more. My doctor had suggested that we keep trying, but felt that we might want to start thinking about other family building options.
We celebrated our first anniversary in Savannah over this past Thanksgiving. I had read about a newborn who had been given to a Safe Haven location not too far from our home. I wanted to book a flight back to NY right away. Ten little fingers. Ten little toes. Another negative pregnancy test.
I recently turned forty. Doug and I have been married almost two years now. I still have not been able to conceive. My periods went from two months apart to four. They are so light, it is almost like they aren’t there. I brought this up at my recent wellness visit to my Gyno. This time he used the phrase egg failure. He suggested Doug and I seriously discuss seeing a fertility specialist but felt that there was a very good chance that I would not be a candidate for IVF.
I left the office and I was okay. I was okay because two days earlier Doug had run into an old friend. Two days earlier they discussed our problems conceiving. Two days earlier his friend asked, “Have you considered adoption?”
I was okay, because two days earlier Doug and I sat down, and we talked. I was okay because two days earlier we made a decision that is right for our family. We said, “Yes” to adoption. Then comes the journey.