Version 4.0 Coming March, 2013

Well, I can't say that with absolute certainty, since I haven't taken a test yet; but I am fairly sure. For all of you lovely people who chart, you can see my little implantation dip at 7 dpo (days past ovulation, for those of you who don't chart).

I had a teeny little bit of pink this morning when I went to the bathroom (yes, I'm putting that on the internet. At least I didn't say vagina. Oh. Wait.), but nothing came of it (I've been half-expecting my period, because I'm suffering from a progesterone deficiency, so my luteal phase has been between 6 and 7 days long). So the only other thing I can think of is--that we'll be needing a minivan before March of next year. Yay!

(Edit to Add:)
This new version has now been confirmed!

Wandering Thoughts for a Bleak Day

It's 1:39 am, and even though my eyes are crossing and my head is pounding, I can. not. sleep. Today, my dear friend Linda took her sweet little 8-week-old baby girl to the emergency room because she was doing poorly (the baby was born with hypoplastic left-heart syndrome), and she is at home now, with empty arms and full breasts, and mountains and oceans of grief that she will have to climb up and be buried beneath and swim through and drown in, and I cannot bear to think about it, but I cannot stop thinking about it.

It doesn't make sense to me, that God would allow little babies to die. I know He is, well, God. I know He has His own plans and that He exists in a completely different realm from us, so even though His action seem horrifically unkind to me, that to Him they are completely rational, and probably just. But I have to admit, I am just a little bit mad at Him right now. How dare He give them a baby, let them have her for a few weeks, and then take her away again, leaving them saddled with mounds of hospital bills, an empty nursery, and broken hearts? 

The worst part, or one of the worst parts (because how can you choose which part is "worst," when you're talking about a baby dying) is that it was completely unexpected. There was no preparation time, no getting ready for it. She had been doing well. Very well. She was feisty and fighting. They were making plans for the future--not college plans, or career plans, or even starting-kindergarten plans. But plans--she was to have some surgeries later this year to correct several things that were bothering her. She was having casts fitted to correct her club foot. Lowell, Linda's husband, left for work this morning planning to come home and snuggle his infant daughter to sleep. Linda planned to awaken many times in the night to tend to her sweet little girl. And all of a sudden, she was ripped from them, leaving a gaping wound and--why? She was a baby. 

She was a beautiful baby, actually; and I say that in complete honesty, not in the coochy-coo way that we say it to wrinkled and blotchy old newborns. She was beautiful. She had chubby little cheeks, and squinty little eyes, and the pinkest, sweetest skin, and a little smudgy nose that would just break your heart to look at, it was that adorable. She had a little scar on her chest from her first heart surgery, and a giant cast engulfing her little misshapen foot (and yet, it wasn't misshapen at all!), and a tube coming from her nose and taped to her face for feedings, so that she wouldn't exert herself too much at the breast or with her bottle. She was perfect and amazing, and wonderful, and I just knew that she was going to grow up, and...grow up. 

And yet, here they are, picking out caskets, and folding empty little shirts, and jumping up to check on a baby that they no longer have. And I really wish I had some conclusive piece of pithy wisdom to wrap these wandering, venting thoughts up with, but the truth is, I don't. I keep coming up empty. And a little bit angry. And a lot sad. And guilty, because while I ache inside for her, there is a little part of me that is so very thankful that it is her and not me. I kind of hate myself for that. 

Still Feelin' Crafty

My last post? The one that I posted back on April 17th, about my Fiber Book that I'm sewing up? Well, I've done three more pages on it, now, and all that's left is to sew up the cover of the binder that I'm using, and then I'll be done! I have to say, sewing is not my strong suite. At all. As in, if I had to sew to save my life, I'd better have a funeral plot all paid for because...

This is page 1, for my double-pointed knitting needles. If I had it to do over again, I would have made it front/back pages instead of facing pages, because the binder rings make it not lay flat. I also would have added snaps to those flaps so my needles wouldn't fall out every time I flopped the page open (and that's the only way I open the page, apparently). Experience:1, Me: 0. 

This is page 2, for my circular and cable needles. The circular needles are interchangeable, so there's a bunch of pockets that I neglected to get a picture of on the other side of the page for my cables, couplers, stitch holders, etc. I learned that I hate sewing Velcro, and that practice does not always make perfect, because while my technique sucked on page 1, it sucked a whole lot more on page 2. Oh, and I did the whole facing pages thing, again. Experience: 2, Me: 0.

This is page 3, which is finally a front/back page. What? I'm a slow learner, okay? The front holds my crochet hooks, and the back holds all my little finishing accessories: scissors, tapestry needles, T-pins, stitch markers, and buttons. You know how I hate Velcro? Well, sewing ribbon trim and Velcro on the same fabric piece is really rotten. I know that now. Experience: 3, Me: 0.

This is page 4, for dispensing my ribbon and thread that I use for trimming. I am actually a little proud of page 4, considering that I didn't know how to sew when I started page 1. If only I'd cut my little fabric pieces so those darned stripes were straight. Whatever. 

I actually had a totally different idea which I won't detail here, but which involved suspender clips, spools of ribbon, pleats (ha! Because I totally could have done pleats!), and a visit with the Dahli Llama. Or something impossible like that. Anyway, it was a really complicated idea that ended up costing me $44 for suspender clips that I never received and for which I am now disputing to my credit card company because, apparently, customer service is as dead as chivalry and that deer I hit tonight, but that's a totally different story that I will vent about later. Suffice it to say, my idea that I came up with after the Case of the Disappearing Suspender Clips was a totally rockin' idea, and I love it. So, ha! Experience: 3, Me: 1 (because I'm taking this one, whether I deserve it or not).