Two more weeks!  Hooray!  I am so ready for this!  I talked to my doctor's office yesterday, and nicely demanded that they give me a date and time for all my pre-op appointments so that I could tell work something.  So they scheduled them both for the day before the actual procedure, which is a lot better than the schedule they had me on when they wanted to do the lap earlier this month (well, technically last month as it is February now).  They still couldn't tell me what time I was supposed to go to the hospital to get cut open and have pictures taken of my insides, but at least I know the day.  I am realizing that the next couple of weeks are really going to fly by, and I need to get ready for this thing.  I need to gather together reading material, jello, and stretchy pants.  And I need to teach my cat to stop jumping on my stomach and laying on me, as this will inevitably be very uncomfortable.  (She's also really drool-y and loves to shake her head and fling that drool all over my face.  Lovely, huh?)  Also, I need to buy some gas-x.  For my dog.  Dear God....

And now on to the topic that I seem to love to talk about, but scoff at everyone else who does......CELEBRITIES!!!  Good lord, seriously, WTH is wrong with me?  Why do I always feel the need to talk about them?  Maybe its because they are so messed up, and stupid, and tragic.   Or maybe it just makes me feel better about myself.  Who knows?  But today we are going to talk about Taylor Swift.  Pretty little Taylor Swift, with her curly blond hair, adorable little nose, and sense of self so wrapped up in every guy she dates, she is miserable when it ends and can't be happy until she finds another poor sap to attach herself to.  I have her latest song stuck in my head.  Something about knowing the guy was trouble when he walked in.  And how she was just a notch in his belt.  And how she'll never get fooled again (poor sweet Taylor, she says that every time).  And I have to wonder if she has any identity outside of the guys she dates at all?  It seems to me that someone who has a sense of self and has an identity other than the latest guy that she was dating, wouldn't be devastated and heartbroken after every. single. breakup.  Wouldn't feel the need to write I hate you/I'm so sad songs after every date that goes wrong.  I dated my share of scumbags (who hasn't), but I didn't feel the need to write long hate letters/why don't you love me letters after things ended. So Taylor, sweetie I have a suggestion. Get a hobby.  Or some friends.  Pick a charity and devote yourself to it. Get a puppy.  But please, stop freaking dating until you actually have figured out that you are a person that doesn't need someone to attach to in order to exist.  I guarantee that once you find yourself, you will have an easier go of it in the relationship department.  So seriously, go coordinate animal rescues or something and stop dating!

And now, for those of you who don't want to read on and hear me bitch about my uterus, here is your IFPSA of the day:
If you have a friend or family member that has been trying to conceive for a while, chances are she is not going to want links to articles about celebrity pregnancies plastered all over her facebook wall.  This did not happen to me, but happened to a lady in one of my online support groups, and needless to say, she got really upset.  The fact that we are having trouble trying to get pregnant makes all things pregnancy and baby related painful.  It seriously sucks to walk by the baby isle at Target or Wal-Mart, and seeing pregnant people can make you want to punch things.  So its probably not a good idea to send her pics of celebrity baby bumps, or your baby bumps, or anyones baby bumps really.

Yes, ladies (and probably not gentlemen, because I know very few men who want to read about uteri), this is indeed how I am feeling today (as well as yesterday when I started this post).  Mother Nature must still be really pissed off at me for all those years I didn't recycle, because otherwise, I really don't understand why she is doing this to me.  I mean seriously, I haven't had kids yet, but there is a part of me that is hoping they'll get in there in a couple of weeks and feel the need to take my damn uterus out.  Just take it.  Seriously.  All it does is cause me pain, and gross me out, and force me not to exercise as hard as I want to, and refuse to keep a baby in there until it can live on the outside.  I'm tired of hurting so much that 6 ibuprofen and a lortab and a heating pad won't get rid of the pain.  I am so thankful that I have an awesome understanding boss that allowed me to go home yesterday, because I probably would not have made it through the day without crawling under my desk, curling into a ball, and crying.  So hell, just take it out.  I'm tired of it.  I want a child more than anything, but I honestly don't feel that it will happen at this point.  No uterus= no period, no pain, no more miscarriages, and no more guessing whether or not this month might be the month that ends in a BFP and pure terror that I'll miscarry agian.  I know the better option would be finding fixable insides, but with all the hell I go through every month (not just with my period but all the damn time!), I'm just not seeing that as a possibility.
Ok, I'm done bitching and Ground Hog Day is about to come on.  So until next time....