It’s the third of May, and I totally blew NaBloPoMo in April. #FAIL. Which is fine – clearly I am the kind of person who only blogs sporadically, and that’s okay. I had big plans to start again in May, but I forgot to write on Wednesday, and then again yesterday… oh, well.
There is so little going on right now with the baby-making efforts that it’s hardly worth mentioning. I started out this cycle on letrozole again, but my response just wasn’t what the doctor was hoping for, so no insemination this month. Next cycle, we’re going to add injectable gonadotropins to boost the quality (and hopefully, quantity) of my eggs. I’m really hoping that’s all it takes; I’m running out of money, and it’s going to take me longer to save enough – I will have to skip two cycles just to do one, and that just sucks.
Indiana House Rabbit Society participated in a confiscation in April that netted us 11 new rabbits, one of which I’m going to adopt. I haven’t had a bunny of my own for a couple of years, but something about her speaks to me. She’s a big French Lop, with the fluffiest, giantest feet I’ve seen in a long time. Her front legs are stocky, her face is squishy, and her ears are super-floppy!
And that, my friends, is officially the news from here. I’m out!
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I took a photography class last spring, as one of my electives for the BS program I was working through. I started out with my trusty Kodak point-and-shoot – it has a manual mode – but after the first class realized I would need to upgrade to a DSLR if I wanted my photos to be decent. I also figured it might come in handy later… you know, for baby pictures. Whatever, this is how my mind works now. Anyway, I bought a Canon Rebel T3i, and I LOVE it. I did very well in the photography class, learning how to use the manual controls and learning the basics of composition, but to become better I need a challenge. I need accountability! I need someone to review my photos and provide feedback.
To that end, I joined the Project MCP photo challenge. My first submission is the picture above – my Santa ornament. I inherited this ornament from my grandmother; she loved Santa’s cheery face, and it was one of her favorites. He gets a prized spot on my tree every year – I try to make sure he can dangle sufficiently, rather than resting on a branch, and I try to make sure he’s well lit.
I’m excited to participate in the December challenges. I like that you can do one, or you can do all – it helps to know that if I can’t find a subject that matches the weekly theme, I can choose to sit out for that week. LOVE THAT. I hope they continue this into the new year…
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When I told my dad about my plans back in May, he was a little reticent at first, but came around to the idea very quickly. He worries about me being alone, especially once he’s gone (which – hopefully – won’t be for a long, long time). He would like to see me in a traditional parenting role – partnered with a husband – but I think it’s clear to him now that that’s just not something that’s going to happen in the immediate future. Anyway, Dad got excited about the idea of being a granddad, and spread the good news (GAH) far and wide, to anyone who would listen. I tolerated his enthusiasm as good-naturedly as someone who doesn’t want to share news with a bunch of people could.
So, fast forward 6 months… and he’s not so enthused any more. Now he worries that I haven’t thought this through. He thinks I don’t know what I’m in for: sleepless nights, caring for sickies, and all of it alone. He thinks I don’t understand how my life will change, and how drastically. And all I can think is… really, Dad? I’ve been thinking all of these things, and more, over the last year. Thinking how there will be no one here for me to hand the baby off to when it won’t.stop.crying. No one here to see all the first moments with me. And even before that, there will be no one here to rub my feet and back when I’m 8 1/2 months pregnant and it’s a struggle just to get off the couch. AND I’M OK WITH THAT. I’ve made my peace with it. I don’t want to wait for someone to be here, someone that I might not be able to rely on anyway. You can’t possibly know how things will go until you’re in it, and that’s fine by me. I have planned, and planned, and planned as much as someone who isn’t yet pregnant can, and it will all be alright, one way or another. It can’t be anything but alright.
All of that to say that I realize now that he’s just doing his job, being MY parent. Worrying about his child, and the decisions I might make. I get it… and I’m sure I’ll do the same thing with my own child.
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