Tuesday, February 24, 2009

exploring the options

There has been nothing much of note going on lately, nothing which I have felt the need to gripe about here in my safe place. But today I find I have something I want to hash out.

Sid tells me he's considering not staying in the Navy. That when his final year is up in August, he's going to get out and just run like hell. So right now I'm in the weird spot of having to separate what I want from what I want for him, and it's actually pretty difficult. If he stays in, it would be easier in that we would have a reliable paycheck every week, with no worries about getting fired or being laid off. Then again, if he gets out, it would be easier in that we wouldn't have to worry anymore about deployments, money be damned. I am sure that either way, we'll cope.

But. His staying in means that IUI is still an option for us. His getting out takes the possibility of spawning off the table indefinitely. In this, I am not sure I am ready or able to accept that second scenario.

And though I have taken a step back from this situation enough to tell him that I will be on board with whatever he decides, that I'll support him 100% either way, I cannot make myself believe that I will truly be okay with more waiting. But I will not trap him into a job he hates just so that we can be a family. It isn't right, and I won't make him do it. It never ends well, that kind of entrapment. If he stays in, it will be because he chose to, not because I coerced him. And so I had better be ready and able to accept the second scenario.

Obviously, we have not yet talked about it much. We're both still mulling over what we want to say and how we want to approach it.

I know he's not happy in the military, and I am not exactly thrilled at being tagged "a military wife". I know he would like to leave that bullshit behind. And yet we have these perks of military life that will be hard to leave behind: health-care being the main one. Because, hello, I don't pay for my twice-annual bloodwork. I don't pay but $3 for my monthly bottle of pills. I didn't pay for my eye exam or the frames of my glasses (just the lenses). Sid did not pay for his EKG, or his gold toof, or his shittons of various other dental work. Sid didn't pay for his semen analysis, or his eye exam, or his glasses. It was covered by Tricare. And if he gets out, we have no more insurance. I assure you that while we're by no means poor, I don't think we can afford to pay for his constant dental work out-of-pocket, AND consistently foot the bill for my bloodwork. I think we will be royally screwed!

These are all things I'm sure he's thinking as well. And yet if he's willing to take that risk, then so am I. It might turn out great in the end. And it might not. Like so much of our lives right now, it's a total crapshoot.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I am THAT woman

The other day, I started researching adoption, foster care programs. And Sid said he didn't want to do it, that he was not ready, not able to take that step. I do not understand: I only want to be a parent, I don't care how that child comes to us. I mentioned it on one of the boards I post at, and another one of the women there also dealing with infertility thought it was a great idea. Her husband agreed, it is a wonderful idea. They are starting the foster-parent training.

I am glad for her, I am so glad that she is finally happy, that her husband shares her feelings. And yet I spent the rest of the day struggling not to cry. I was so frustrated and angry at Sid for foisting this kind of despair on me, for not being willing to consider any of the options available to us, that it was actually very hard for me to be civil. I felt like a bratty child. Still do, actually, but I'm well-behaved today.

To add insult to injury, he went out and bought a $600 lens for his $300 camera. Without telling me. I hit the roof. What the hell were you thinking? My god, when you finally decide that you're ready for a kid, you won't hesitate to drop the cash to make it happen, will you? That money could have bought three rounds of artificial insemination, it could have bought nearly 80 digital pregnancy tests, it could have bought a crib and a changing table! What the fuck were you thinking?! Not.happy. I am tired of waiting, I am tired of having what I want deemed stupid and unnecessary. I am sick of being told to be patient, that I shouldn't be so unhappy, that we're doing it without condoms and it will happen! No, it is not going to happen. I have given up hope of that. I have given up entirely on this whole thing, and right now I would like to see him just fucking castrated.

We started this feeling so hopeful, so sure that everything would work out for us. And looking back, we were so fucking stupid, so naive and full of hubris. We just assumed thateverything would be fine! And when we started to realize that everything was not fine, that everything was, in fact, fucked up and nothing would turn out the way we'd imagined... well, it all fell apart. I'm mad at Sid for being uncooperative and I'm sure he's mad at me for being an obsessive bitch.

I am so unspeakably sick and tired of being jealous of my friends' good fortune. I am tired of being happy for them for only one second before the stab of bitterness and anger takes over. I am fucking tired of being that woman. And yet I don't know how to stop. Trust me, I would dearly like to stop.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

"god's will"

I am sick to death of hearing this. SICK TO DEATH OF IT.

When I had my chemical pregnancy, godbags liked to say "Oh, it's God's will, it happened for a reason," and it never failed to raise my ire. God killed my hopes and dreams, and for what? To teach me a lesson? What a vindictive asshole. I don't believe in any God whose plan basically involves taking a giant shit on my whole life.

Yesterday, Sid found out that Tricare will not cover our infertility treatments. Which I'd expected, but then what the guy who handled our case did next took the fucking CAKE. He leaned in, all confidential-like and said, "Maybe it's just God's will, and you should accept that you're not supposed to be parents."

Uh, what? Maybe you should just accept you need a giant whack with a CLUE-BY-FOUR, you sorry jackass.

I get so goddamned sick of hearing "Just accept it, you're not meant to be parents." Would you say that to someone who has just buried their only child? Would you say that to someone who has just delivered a stillborn baby? NO? Then why the fuck do you think it's okay to say to someone who is still coming to terms with the fact that THEY CANNOT HAVE CHILDREN WITHOUT INTERVENTIONS.

Seriously, lay off the "god's will" bs already. I don't believe for one second that there's a god, or that he's got a plan for any of us. You're just throwing it out there as a way to make your own self feel better, a way for you to convince yourself that bad shit will never happen to me, because I have God on my side.

You don't. You have naivete and ignorance on your side. And that's about it.

Monday, February 9, 2009

he's going to hate me

but I don't care.

A boy on one of the sites I frequent (and admin for) has admitted he's considering suicide. So far, no one's really been able to talk him out of it.

So I did some digging with another admin over the weekend and found out what town he lives in, and we discussed our best course of action: call the local police department, or the local school? In the end, I opted for the local PD.

So yeah, this kid is going to end up hating me. But I'd be some kind of monster if I didn't at least try to help.

I'm such a meddler.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

home makeover: Manson edition

It is always something in this house. First it was the ceiling in the bathroom. Then it was the roof in the attic, and the water damage to the floor up there. Now the wall in the bathtub is falling to bits, and oh, by the way, the attic is leaking again.

Seriously, what the hell is this? This house is old, sure, but I wasn't aware it was quite to the falling-down stage yet.

The good news is that our landlady is really awesome about stuff like this. We're splitting the cost of a replacement shower wall, and we're putting it in this weekend. And also, the guys who did a really spiffy job fixing the bathroom ceiling (and roof) are coming back to take a look at the leak in the attic.

Fingers crossed that by this time on Monday something will be fixed.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

two steps forward, one step back

If everything goes to plan, the Mansons are moving back to Flori-duh. Sid thought it would be fun to buy a house if he re-enlisted, and now that's pretty much made up his mind. He's going to re-enlist. He's going to try to get orders for the Jacksonville or Mayport area. He's going to buy a house.

So excuse me for just a second while I wail, WHAT ABOUT TEH BAAAAYBEEE?! Because I seemed to be laboring under the misguided and wholly outrageous assumption that it wasn't so much the infertility that stopped us from having a kid, but the fact that Sid was getting out of the Navy. And he's not mentioned sprogs once since he decided to stay in the military. This leaves me feeling a wee bit confused, as you can imagine. And I don't particularly want to bring it up to him for fear I'll be seen as the crazy bitch with the baby obsession.

But back to the America's Penis thing. FUCKING FLORIDA. I don't particularly like the cold, but fuck me, I prefer freezing my ass off to finding Palmetto bugs in my house. I'm getting the short end of the stick on this one, FOR SURE. I don't even get a sprog out of this? FUCK NO. I am not on board with this, not one little bit.