Selfish Me

Yes, I've been away for some time now. We have passed yet another month with the frightful appearance of AF, or my period in less childlike terms. The reason I'm here right now is a selfish one, and one that will surely come off as highly bratty.

I'd like to reserve a name. Technically two names, a first and a middle. Now, I know sharing your future children's names aren't "done" in this day and age for fear of the name stalkers (People who will take the names you've so carefully chosen for your children, and then act like they came up with it themselves), but I must put this out there for anyone who is reading or listening:

I stake claim to this name. Paul and I have had this choice in our hearts for the 5 years we've been together, we've made up nicknames for it, and have imagined the child who would possess it. Since we're not yet lucky enough to have an infant in the works, I'd kindly like to have any of my friends and family take pity upon us, and let us keep this name for our own.

Ready? It's Piper Jane. PJ for short. She'll be a dark haired, light-skinned little girl with blue eyes that quickly turn a light brown like her parents. She'll possibly be a little chubby, because how can she not coming from parents like us? It's only realistic to assume so. When she gets older, her hair will turn longish and wavy, to be sloppily parted in the middle into pigtails, since she is her mother's daughter. Piper will love to read and be read to, and will relish being her grandpa's girl. She'll hopefully take after her father, and along with a propensity to care too much, will be able to catch a ball without having it bounce off her forehead first. We hope she'll be smart, giving and loving, trustworthy and energetic, and most of all, happy.

I know it's unfair to try to lay claim to a name for a child that hasn't been conceived yet, but we've already put so much love and happiness into that name that it would be a shame to have to give it up due to a uncooperative uterus.

The Queen

I had my x-ray done on Monday, and it was quite uneventful. Didn't do much other than sit around waiting for my name to be called, put my foot up on the table, and "Don't Move". They will call my doctor, and I will hopefully move on to a new course of treatment.

I'm pretty sure I'll need an MRI, since judging from the x-ray tech's response to my ankle ("Wow, it's still not looking very good"), something is aggravating it, and needs to be taken care of. Despite my ability to hurt myself constantly, I've never had real surgery. Yeah, I did have that cataract surgery almost ten years ago, but I didn't really have much recuperating to do after it. Just wear the dark glasses, take my antibiotics to ward off infection, and DON'T RUB. The idea or arthroscopic surgery (when there are two teeny incisions made into the area, one of which is used for a camera) just creeps me out. The bright side, the surgery will be less invasive due to the small cameras, and recovery time will be shorter than regular surgery. The downside- I do not take well to being under the knife. My last eye surgery had me waving about like the queen of England (the doctor's words, not mine) so much that my arms had to be strapped down!

Hopefully the news will be good, and I will not need surgery. Fingers crossed!

You've Got Mail

Today I got nostalgic, in an effort to distract myself from ticking the days off on my calendar. When I get nostalgic, I look through old emails from past friends and boyfriends. Yes, I keep them. It's the only thing I have left from my past that I keep- no letters or pictures, no gifts or clothing. Paul has never asked me to remove anything, and I don't keep them to think of what could have been. I keep them to remember myself of old. They help me fill in missing pieces, and give me dates to recollect. I'm a very sentimental person, and reading these old emails just make me think of the days that were spent with that person, and how much I've changed since then.

In my collection (so to speak) I've been broken up with, propositioned, loved, missed and berated. I've been left for other women, I've been told that I'll be notified should the person's current relationship fall through, and dropped from a best friend's wedding. Oddly enough, I look back at these past conversations and shake my head or smile. What things I agreed to, what situations I tolerated for years upon years. In that one email box I have three long distance relationships carried out, with two of them ended via email. What kind of person would end a relationship through email? The same person who will tell you that despite waiting four years to date you, after one month WITH you he has found someone new. It's not you, he says, it's me. Actually, since you waited for all those years to be with me, once you got the "real" me, you bolted. So me thinks it actually WAS me.

I wonder, knowing what I know now about myself, what would I do differently? Would I have told that one guy No? No I won't wait for you while you try to see who else is out there. No, I don't mind waiting for you to get back from Iraq- just please come home safely- what's that? You met a new girl? Ha! Isn't that just spit on your neck kick you in the crotch fantastic? It's amazing to me how little spine I had back then.

As I peruse the emails by name, I see witty comebacks from myself, and the few times I FINALLY got to say what I thought. Sure, it was post-breakup and they had moved on by then, but I GOT THE LAST WORD. Perhaps it's because of that, or maybe it's because I'm this person I am now because of the few morons I dated- but I wouldn't change a thing. I like where I am now. I love my life, and my husband. If I had stayed with that Marine, or that guy I completely lied to about my race (He thought I was Armenian, like he was), or the 13 years older than me guy with a kid, where would I be? I could be in San Diego, or Santa Rosa. I could have a step-son, or in-laws who had no idea I was in fact, Mexican. I could have been living on a base somewhere, biting my nails waiting for my husband to come home. Or, I could have been divorced and heartbroken. Instead, I'm a block away from my dad, mere minutes away from family- with a husband who loves me and a dachshund who gets excited whenever I come home.

Despite this TTC ordeal, I'm pretty lucky I ended up where I did. I only wish I had some email record of this.