Archives

The Two-Week Wait

Things look promising.

As most of you know from my post on Monday, I got a positive ovulation test on CD14. The four days since then, my BBT has been over 98.0 (before that it was mostly 97.2-97.6). Also, the OPKs have gone back to being completely negative, my cervix has dropped, and now I have creamy-ish CM. So far, so good, I would say.

Which I think makes it official. I’m smack-dab in the middle of the 2WW. My first since starting this blog. And please God, let it be my last.

Is that being too optimistic? I don’t know.

Here’s what I do know:

  • My Honey and I had sexy time the two days before ovulation and the day of. I hope that’s enough.
  • Every time that I have ovulated while TTC (those two measly times in the last two-and-a-half years), I have conceived, even though it was on CD19 in 2010 and CD 22 earlier this year.

That’s not much to go on, but it’s enough to give me hope. And so that’s what I do…all day long, I hope, I pray, and I analyze every possible little symptom or clue my body alludes to. It’s too early, of course — anything I feel now is probably an unpredictable fluke — but I can’t help myself.

So in this moment, I’m feeling more positive and hopeful than I have in so long, since my miscarriage I think. It’s a (slightly terrifying) relief to finally be trying again. And to be at a point where we’ve actually got a shot at a miracle. (Even though ovulating on CD14 feels like a small miracle of its own.)

So for today, I will try not to worry, try to have faith, and try to just enjoy the possibilities. I’m feeling like I can handle anything right now. Even my sister. We have a phone date scheduled for this afternoon to talk our hearts out.

I’m so freaking scared!

I’m a Good Sister.

Well, you can’t tell from my last post, but I’m a good sister.

At least, I think I am. Today.

Though I was still hurting from her news and the way in which she’d told me, I bought my sis this while we were in Idaho:

I know it’s hard to tell from the photos, but it’s a “piggy” bank shaped liked a teddy bear. Not so long ago (before she ever got pregnant), my sister mentioned how she wants to do the nursery in teddy bears. Just like we did for Cupcake. So I thought this was the perfect thing. (But please don’t even get me started on how she’ll be using the same middle name as Cupcake if she has a daughter…or how she’ll quite possibly be “stealing” the boy name I have had picked out for years if she has a son.)

For days, I have been going back and forth on whether I should actually send it to her. I don’t want her to think it’s some sort of apology. After talking to my mama and my Honey, and after reading every supportive comment that you all have left on previous posts, I don’t really think I’ve done anything wrong. And I fear that she’ll think this gift is an admission that I have. But then I realized I was being silly and petty. Who cares what she thinks? I know why I’m sending it. And it’s not an apology, but a truce. A peace offering.

So despite my sister’s e-mail to me over the weekend, I put it in the mail earlier this week.

Guys, I am trying. I’m trying so damn hard.

So yes, I think that makes me a good sister. Come on…I dare you to tell me I’m not.

Letter to My Sister

It’s no secret that my sister and I are in a weird place right now. Our relationship seems to be on a downward spiral and if I could pick out where it all started to go wrong, I would say it was right around the time I lost Teddy Graham. It’s a story I still want to tell, but I’ll save it for another day. Sis’s latest big news has turned out to be only one more bump in the road. Since she told me she is pregnant, we’ve sent a few e-mails back and forth. In one of them, I tried very hard to make an effort and even asked about morning sickness and doctor appointments. And in the next, I was brutal and blunt in my wording because she had accused me of causing her too much pain. But no matter what we have said, all of our e-mails have lacked the usual friendly, silly rapport that we have developed in the last few months. You wouldn’t know we are sisters by reading them.

Many of you have mentioned that it may be best to take some time off right now — to just give each other space. I know you are probably right. Yesterday, I came across this quote completely by accident:

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”  — Havelock Ellis

I think that pretty much says it all and yet… Yet. I have never been good at letting go. Friendships and first loves have continued until all life was drained out of them because I just couldn’t let them go. I want a sister-break (maybe?), but I also fear it. I’m afraid that if we take some time apart, we may never find each other again. And, as of right now, she’s all I’ve got when it comes to sisters.

Recently, Elizabeth over at Bébé Suisse and then Theresa at Journey to the Finish Line suggested that I send my sister an e-mail to explain where I’m coming from and to smooth things over. This is something I’ve been wanting to do ever since I felt let down and utterly abandoned by her during the dark days of my miscarriage in April — well, smooth things over or just puke out all my hurt feelings and maybe make her hurt a little too.  But right now, writing a real, heartfelt letter is not something I trust myself to do, for fear that I may say something I’ll regret and thus cause irreparable damage to our relationship (if it hasn’t been done already).

Instead, I have chosen to write a letter to my sis, not for her but for me, and I want to share it with all of you. Be forewarned: this will be a long one and it won’t be pretty. Please don’t judge me for what I say here. This is my chance to say all the ugly things in my head, so that hopefully I will never be tempted to say them aloud. I have no intention of ever sending this and, if I do (and that is one gigantic IF!), it will be a much-condensed version that I have carefully edited.

And so, here we go…

 

Dear Sis,

This is not easy to write. Nothing in my life is easy right now, but especially this. Navigating a relationship that is so new to me, with nothing to use as a compass, while simultaneously grieving the loss of a child, fearing that the only dream I have right now may never come true, AND having to muster up some joy over your special blessing…it’s not easy. Nor is it fair, and I hate it.

And yes, sometimes I hate you.

I hate you because you have made everything hard in my life harder this year. My short pregnancy was filled with even more anxiety because you would chastise me for my “unfounded” worry. And the loss of my pregnancy, and my baby, was even more painful because you were not there when I needed you. And trying again has been made more difficult because you’re pregnant and you lack sensitivity towards the fact that I’m not. For all of this, I feel contempt, resentment, anger, envy, and sorrow. I hate you and yet, at the same time, I am afraid I am losing you. And for something that doesn’t even feel like it’s my fault.

I am not happy with the way our last phone conversation ended, when you told me you were pregnant. I think you were mad and shutting down on me as we hung up, and I can’t fathom why. Because I didn’t give you the happy response you hoped for? Because I did not jump for joy and celebrate with balloons and streamers? Because a simple “congratulations” simply wasn’t enough? Really, I have to wonder, what the hell did you expect??? I suppose, in an ideal world, I would have done so much more. I would have squealed with glee. I would have cried happy tears. I would have been the sister you wanted. But this world is not ideal. Not for me. I just lost a baby. And I don’t know that I’ll ever have another one. And I hurt. While you can you go about your day without worry about creating a family or carrying a baby to term, I cannot. The weight of it crushes me with every breath. And so if you think that I should be nothing but happy for you, if you think I should celebrate your great fertile success, if you think that you deserve my joy and I owe you selfless delight, then we have a problem.

Because while I am trying to be happy for you, I cannot ignore the ache that I carry with me every where I go. Your pregnancy exacerbates the ache, but I do not blame you for that. I do not blame you for wanting a child or for conceiving so quickly. Your fertility is no more your fault than my infertility is mine. But I do think you have handled all of this so wrong.

Let’s not talk about what went so badly when I miscarried in April. Let’s not discuss how you promised that, with God, you would carry me through the darkness, just like in that poem “Footprints in the Sand.” And I won’t tell you how, instead, you left me stranded on a deserted island, alone with my grief. How the sister-friend whom I thought I could turn to turned out to be the only one I could not.

No, instead let’s talk about that phone call a couple weeks ago. I hated that phone call. That you somehow thought you were doing me a favor by calling me. That you got pissed when I told you it would have been easier to handle over e-mail. That I hung up feeling guilty for upsetting you. I had been expecting your news for some time. Anticipating it and dreading it at once. And in my head, I had a careful response planned out. It probably would have been a lot of what you wanted to hear, if you had allowed me to say it over e-mail. Instead, you blindsided me with a phone call that I had no control over and forced me to respond when I wasn’t ready. I don’t blame  you for getting pregnant, but I do blame you for the way in which you told me. For not respecting my own comfort level. For the perkiness, and absence of sympathy, in your tone. For lacking any sensitivity to how much it hurt me to hear. For failing to show me the same compassion and tenderness I have shown you through everything, all your dark secrets and deep pain, until now.

Do you know what I wish you would have done? Well, I wish you would have told me over e-mail, for one. Or, I wish you would have somehow reached through the phone and held my hand. I wish you would have made me feel loved and cared for and understood instead of like the worst sister ever. I wish you would have attempted to make all of this easier for me, rather than letting your anger show when it was nothing but hard.

And do you know what I wish you would have said? I wish you had said, “Cassie, I know this is hard for you and I’m so sorry. I know you just lost Teddy. I know you still miss him. And I know you are afraid that might be the last baby you ever have. I know I’m hurting you and you have every right to feel what you feel…I’m just sorry I’m the one inflicting the pain…and I will be here every step of the way, if you’ll let me.” Or something like that. And I wish you would have said it gently, tenderly, sweetly, with hope and remorse and understanding.

My cousin Faith* struggled for ten years to conceive. And do you know what her sister did when she (her sister) learned she was expecting twins? She cried. She was so happy to have two babies on the way, but she was so sad for Faith. So angry at the unfairness of the situation. She had such sorrow that her big sister, this wonderful woman who wanted to have children more than anything, could not have her same great fortune. She felt guilty that it was her and not Faith who was pregnant, and with twins no less. Of course, I do not expect that from you. I think a reaction like that probably only comes from having a relationship and history with your sister that spans many years, not just a few mere months. We say we love each other, but do we? I’m convinced that, right now, it’s all an act…or at least an obligation. Because when you really love someone, you feel their pain. You ache with and for them. You hold them in your heart and lift them up when they are down. You are strong for them when they cannot be.

And  you have done none of this for me.

Maybe you think this is a two-way street. That I should celebrate with you while you mourn with me. But I’m sorry, I’ve got news for you: this road only goes one way. Pain trumps joy. Every time. Especially when it is your pain and someone else‘s joy. I reserve the right to be sad, to cry over your good news, any time I need to. In a recent e-mail you asked if you should still come visit me next week because you don’t want me to be sad all day long — “that wouldn’t be any fun,” you wrote. But, excuse me? Since when do you have jurisdiction over what I get to feel? Is there an expiration date on grief that I don’t know about?  Are you saying that I have to pretend to be happy if I want to spend any time with you?  Because I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve spent my whole life pretending to be someone and feel things that I’m not and I don’t. Sometimes I may be happy. I may laugh. I may forget. And sometimes, I won’t do any of those things no matter how hard I try. And that’s life.

Live with it. Or move on. It’s your choice.

How is it that it has come to this? That we have come to this impasse so early in our relationship? It seems unfair that this is our cross to bear already. One of the many unfairnesses of life, I suppose.

You have now decided that you won’t be coming to see me next weekend. That I have hurt you too much. I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize this was all about you. I also didn’t know that this is how sisters behave. That they run away when things get tough or too uncomfortable. That they aren’t expected to deal with their sister’s grief and pain if it infringes upon their own joy. That they need only be there when their sister falls neatly into their life circumstances. Believe me, since I lost our baby, there have been times where I have thought about walking away from you. Because of the pain you have inflicted upon me. Because frankly, my life was easier and I hurt less when I didn’t know you existed. We will always be sisters, but we don’t have to have a relationship. We are not so far in this thing that we can’t give in and give up. It’s not too late to turn back the hands of time.

But it is. In my heart, it is. Because in order to spare myself one sort of pain, I would cause another. In order to save my broken heart, I would sacrifice my soul. I am loyal. I am strong. I do not give up! Losing you would be just one more death in my life, one more loss — one more casualty of my infertility. I have already lost so much. And so I will fight. I will try. I may not ever be glad that you are pregnant. I may not always like you. Right now, I’m still not sure I have it in me to love you. You may hate me, or wish you had a different sister, or think I have done everything wrong. Our relationship will sometimes suffer. We may not always be friends. But I am okay with that. Because what sisters are? I know not a single pair of sisters who have never had their fair share of disagreements, hurt feelings, and unspoken jealousies. It is what it is and I will accept it. Because you are the only sister I have.

I think I’m in it for the long haul. If you are.

Always,

Cass

 

*Name has been changed

Drama

My sister was planning to come visit me next week. Was. As in, past tense.

Apparently, she has changed her mind because I have caused her too much pain in recent weeks and she “just can’t let go of that.”

Excuse me??? EXCUSE ME?! Who has caused who pain? You’re the pregnant one, sis! Get over yourself.

I have composed a letter to her — but I don’t think I’ll be sending this one. Instead, I’ll show it to you guys (be on the lookout for it!) and send her a slightly friendlier version…something along the lines of “Oh, I’m sorry I lost my baby right before you conceived yours and it has gotten in the way of your perfect life. Please forgive me and my heartache.”

Oh, sigh.

I really don’t need this drama right now.

I really don’t.

A Post-Birthday Post

Well, I am a horrible wife.

Because yesterday was my birthday and I’m ashamed to say that I acted like a spoiled rotten brat when I didn’t get what I wanted. Which is so rare for me because I usually don’t care what I get at all. Every year, my husband asks and every year I say something like, “Oh whatever. You know what I like.”  But this year, I did have a request. I wanted a necklace — simple, classic, something I can wear every day — that holds two birthstones. One for my daughter, our Cupcake. And for the baby who never got to be born, our Teddy Graham. I wanted something to represent that I’m a mother of two, something to commemorate our loss and honor the Baby Who Almost Was. Some people get tattoos. I wanted — want — a necklace.

And I knew I would get what I want and looked forward to unwrapping that small, pretty box all day. And then when I finally did and it was a necklace (yay!) but nothing at all like what I had pictured in my head (boo!), I just felt all color drain from my face and my husband knew with one look at me that I didn’t like it all. And then I started crying.

So here is one more flaw I will reveal to you: I am a horrible, horrible wife. I let my disappointment show. I didn’t even try to hide it. My Honey’s heart was in the right place and he tried so hard and I reacted with no thought to how it might hurt him. And it did. It hurt him. I’m not proud. I hate myself for it. But can I blame it on hormones? Or just on a tough life? Because I really am a mess right now. Such a mess.

But other than that, it was a good day for me. I spent most of it alone with my favorite little person and I indulged in a lot of good food. I talked to my mom five times throughout the day and, even though I carry my pain with me through every moment, I was mostly able to breathe through that and just experience the joy that my birthday always brings me. And I got a card from my sister, which brought a smile to my face. I was wondering if she’d even remember my special day and was pleasantly surprised when the mail arrived at noontime. It was a simple card and lacked her normal friendly, upbeat tone, but at this point I will take what I can get. At least she made the effort.

As yesterday was coming to a close though, I started to feel deflated and sad. Because now our road trip is over and my birthday is done and what else do I have to look forward to or to distract me through the weeks ahead? Nothing. Now it’s just all about waiting and that’s so depressing. Especially because, for whatever reason, I am starting to feel like this cycle is already a flop. A failure. It’s CD10 and I already have lost hope.

And I’m so scared for everything that is — and isn’t — around the corner.

Tears in Idaho

Well, I called it, you guys. I’m no fool.

My sister is pregnant.

She called me when we were halfway to Idaho and I cried the rest of the way here. Why oh why did she have to call me? I sent her an e-mail so that I could get a quick response from her and later reply with my own congratulatory e-mail that I had carefully planned out. Instead, she caught me off guard while I was on vacation and I had to figure out what to say on the spot.

And as a result, this was how the conversation went:

SIS: Blah blah blah. (Small talk)

ME: Blah blah blah. (Small talk right back at her, but the whole time I’m thinking, Just get on with it, will ya?)

SIS: So I was calling about that e-mail you sent me…

ME: Yeah.

SIS: Well, I wanted to wait until I was further along to tell you, but I am pregnant. I’m about 8 weeks. (At which point, I wanted to ask, If you were trying to hide it from me, then why did you keep dropping the most obvious hints ever? But I didn’t.)

ME: Congratulations.

SIS: Thanks! We’re very excited!!

ME: Well, congrats.

SIS: Thanks so much.

(Silence. Utter silence. Did she want me to say something more? Because I really had nothing left.)

ME: So….when are you due?

SIS: Oh, like, in the middle of March, somewhere in between the 13th and 17th.

(More silence because I am thinking, Great! That is just flipping fabulous. March 14th is our wedding anniversary. AND will be the anniversary of Teddy Graham’s conception. Thank you, God, for making this even HARDER.)

SIS: I just wanted to call and tell you. I didn’t think it would be right over e-mail.

ME: Oh, well, it probably would have been easier that way, but it’s okay.

SIS. Oh. (Pause.) Well, I guess I’ll know for next time. (And I think, Next time?! You think I’ll have to go through this AGAIN???!!!)

ME: No, it’s fine. I just thought we had talked about that? But it’s okay. You did what you felt was right and that’s fine.

SIS: (sounding slightly miffed) Well, fine then.

ME: (feeling crushed by guilt and remorse) Listen, I can tell you’re upset and I don’t want that. This is a hard time for me, but I’m happy for you. I really am. I want to be there for you and help you celebrate this baby.

SIS: (sighing and sounding just as pissed)  Okay. Well, drive safely.

ME: (now highly annoyed too) We will.

SIS: Talk to ya later.

ME: Yep.

And that was that. And I can’t decide if I handled it well or if I said all the wrong things. Because apparently my sister thinks it’s the latter one and I hung up feeling horribly guilty. And how fair is that?! I already feel like sh*t and now I have to feel guilty too? My Honey says it’s because I didn’t give her the response she was hoping for. But what did she really expect? If I’d had time, I could have formulated the perfect, warm, sisterly congratulations. But I need to process in order to do that. I cannot do it in the heat of the moment, when my heart is breaking all over again. I can’t.

But this isn’t about me, is it? It’s about her.

Because she’s pregnant.

And I’m not.

The End.

Some Thoughts on Hurting, Home, and the Things in Between

Today, I hurt.

I hurt today because yesterday I came to the conclusion that my sister is pregnant. She has not confirmed this, but I know. I know that she and her new husband started trying during my short-lived pregnancy in April. I know that she has always had regular periods and will probably have no problems conceiving.  I know that she has dropped hints such as being the designated driver at a bachelorette party, feeling so tired all the time, and in an e-mail yesterday she mentioned that she hasn’t been feeling well for a few weeks but said nothing more. And I know that she is probably afraid to tell me her good news.

I know she is pregnant, and I think I have for a while, though I have tried to convince myself otherwise. Either way, I sent her an e-mail last night to ask if my suspicions are true. Was this out of line? I hope not. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. But if she is expecting, I want to know so I can accept it and move on. So we don’t have a pink elephant hanging around every time we talk on the phone or send an e-mail.

Sigh.

This, in the aftermath of my loss, is one of the things I have been fearing the most.

As you may remember from a previous post, my sister is no ordinary sister. She is a half-sister whom I learned about just this year. At this point, we are bonded only by blood and quite a few common interests and personality traits. We don’t have a history. Not really. And the history we do have is short and shadowed by the fact that I feel as if she did not support me through my miscarriage as I had expected. This has left me with a bad taste in my mouth and a lot of resentment. I’m trying to forgive, to believe her intentions were always good, to fake it until I make it. I think I have done a good job at that, but it doesn’t mean I want to celebrate her pregnancy with her.

I am happy for her but sad for myself, torn between wanting to hear every detail about every second of this pregnancy and this baby (my niece! my nephew! my very flesh and blood!), but also afraid to experience all of that. Afraid of the jealousy and contempt and pain it will cause me. There have been times that I wished she would have to deal with my same infertility issues (that somehow it was genetic) and, in the last 24 hours, there have been times when I wished that this pregnancy didn’t exist. Not that I would wish her and her unborn child any harm or tragedy. Just that this had not happened for her quite so quickly and not yet, not until there is another life growing inside me too. Maybe then it would hurt a little less.

I just want to stop hurting.

Someone please tell me I’m not a horrible person, or a bad sister. Because I’m new to this sister thing and I don’t know if these feelings and thoughts I have make me the very worst sister-friend to ever exist.

But on to other things…

It’s cycle day 3! Officially. Not long after my last post, the flow started to pick up and blazed throughout yesterday and into this morning. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see that much blood! (TMI?) So of course, I was worried for no reason. Like always. It’s still not as wicked as it has been at times in the past and I’m not nearly as crampy either, but maybe that’s a good sign? I’ve heard extraordinarily heavy and painful periods are not healthy either. And now I’m at a point where I’m hoping for a little mercy and for the flow to slow waaaaaay down by the end of the day. And I took my first 100mg of Clomid with breakfast this morning. It’s always exciting to me, because it gives me new hope, even if that hope wavers. Often.

(And btw…thank you so much to everyone who offered their advice about cycle days, spotting, and Metformin. I needed to hear all of it and, with each new comment, I breathed a sigh of relief.)

As for the Metformin, I am still on the fence. I go back and forth about a hundred times a day. I did fill the prescription and pick it up from the pharmacy, but I’m going to leave it sitting on our bathroom counter for a few days. I want to ponder it and give my decision time. On one hand, I find it deliciously tempting not to take it and not to have one more obligation and worry in TTC-land. Especially when there is no proof that I actually need it. But on the other hand, I want to do everything I can to up my odds and help my body to ovulate and hopefully ovulate earlier than is standard for me. But at any rate, I won’t be taking it until next week (after my birthday and road trip) and I will definitely be taking it if this round of Clomid doesn’t work at all. I think.

And speaking of our road trip…

We leave today!  Going back to Idaho. Back home…or at least to the only home I had ever known until the place that we now call home became our home. (Hey…that was a lot of fun to say!) I’m so excited for this return to our “roots.” There was a time when I hoped I would be returning with a growing belly and, for a short while during my Teddy Graham pregnancy, I really believed I would. In the weeks after my miscarriage, I lamented that this picture I had of myself in a cute sundress attending the wedding of a family friend in Idaho would never come to be. I cried for days over that silly image. But I’m stronger now, and looking forward to going back to a place that is so familiar to us. It will be good to get away for a short while and, when we return, I will already have made it through the first week of this cycle…with only one (but probably two) more weeks until the anticipated ovulation date. I will welcome anything that can make time go faster right now.

And with that being said, I will probably be off the grid for a few days. If there’s time (perhaps in the evening while watching the Olympics!), I will stay caught up on my blog-reading, but I don’t anticipate that I’ll do any of my own posting. Unless, perhaps, I hear back from my sis about her suspected pregnancy. In that case, I might have no choice but to come here to whine and cry over the unfairness of it all.

Just a warning, friends.

10 Things, Part 2

On Monday, I revealed the first five of ten things about myself so you all can get to know me a little bit better. Here is the second part of that list:

6. I was a good student. I graduated from high school with all A’s except for two lousy B’s that still make me mad these many years later. In college, I graduated magna cum laude with a B.A. in English.  I also won a writing award, had two of my short stories published, and won the top award in the Humanities Department for my senior research project on Harry Potter (yes, it’s true). Several of my professors encouraged me to pursue grad school and I am sure I have disappointed them all by choosing to stay home and parent my daughter instead. But I do hope to one day return to school, hopefully this time to finish my degree in nursing, because I studied that for two years too. Okay…bragging done. 🙂

7. I’ve suffered a lot of loss. And I’m not talking just about my Teddy Graham or my sanity as I have taken this infertility journey. In my 28 years, I have lost six grandparents, two uncles (and one was only 40 years old), and a 19-year-old cousin. I don’t know if this is a lot for my age or not, but I do know that in my circle of friends, it is. Some of these deaths were more unexpected than others and some have hurt my heart more than others have, but they have all affected me in some way, big or small. And I still mourn my losses, especially my maternal grandparents, my maternal uncle, and my cousin. My cuz and I shared the same birthday (five years apart) and our children were born on the same day (three years apart), so we always had a connection, even if we fought like crazy. Not to mention that he was very young and died in a senseless act that could have been prevented. I miss him. I miss them all.

8. I love to travel. Like, loooooove it. If I could travel for a living, I would. I love it that much. It all started when I was very young and my beloved grandparents would take me along on their summer road trips. Two of my favorite places on Earth are London (where we will be returning to in October) and Kangaroo Island in Australia (where the Honey and I honeymooned), but I also have enjoyed Paris, Zurich, Venice, Cairns (in Australia), Sydney, Hawaii, New York City, San Francisco, Alaska, Cancun, Carmel (California), Yellowstone National Park, Walt Disney World, and so much more. In fact, there are very few places that I haven‘t liked. Some day, I hope to visit every state (I have 15 to go) and every continent…both are on my very-long-and-perhaps-impossible-to-complete Bucket List!

9. I’m very flawed. I’m lazy. I’m self-centered. I’m bossy. I’m so indecisive that I changed my college major a total of five times. I half-ass things (like housework) if I can get away with it. I’m a control freak. I’m super sensitive and get my feelings hurt very easily. I’m painfully shy, which I’m afraid sometimes comes off as stuck-up and snobbish. I’m terribly insecure. I’m occasionally self-righteous. I have unfair and unrealistic expectations of everyone, including myself.  The list really could go on, but I would hate to make you think I’m totally unworthy and then cause you stop reading my blog.

And finally number 10. I’m an only child…sort of. I was raised as an only child and I am my mother’s only child, but not for lack of trying. My mama would have loved to have a handful of children, but my dad (the man who raised me as his child) was sterile due to diabetes (type I). So I was conceived by a sperm donor. I guess I’m part of the first generation of sperm donor babies! My mom tried to have another baby after me, but after 12 tries, she finally gave up and I was raised without any siblings (which I hated, but I’ll save that rant for another post). However, in January, thanks to The Donor Sibling Registry, I connected with a half-sister who was conceived by the same donor and lives just three hours away. Amazing, right? Like, we could totally be a Lifetime movie. I’ll save our full story for another post, but I can say now that I have a sister (which still seems so weird to me)…and yet, she doesn’t feel like one. Not yet. Not at all.

So there you go! A little about me. But what about you…any little-known facts you want to share?