I am debating whether to paint my toenails. They are quite fetching with the fire engine red OPI polish that I use. They look fabulous in peep toe black heels or when my leg is hanging over the white porcelain side of the tub.
What stops me is a mutli-syllabic word – phthalates -which is used to spark fear in the hearts of women of reproductive age everywhere with stories of terrible toxicity and tales of awful reproductive problems in lab animals. How can I knowingly put something on my body that might have terrible reproductive consequences, especially since I’m doing everything I can to reproduce?
So my toes remain untouched, unpolished and rather boring until I can find a new bottle from OPI of their newly-phthalate free elixir of love.
Mr. X and I are discussing what to do for vacation this year. We’ve had a Big Vacation every year, starting with our 2002 visit to Australia and Tasmania. Last year we did Paris. This year we can’t decide, mostly because we have no idea what the summer will bring, reproductively speaking. Will we do another IVF? I don’t want to spend my 2ww on vacation. No thank you. I also don’t want to be newly pregnant and on vacation. I did that in 2007 and got a D&C for my trouble.
So, our vacation remains unplanned, with just some vague mumblings about maybe going to New England in the late summer. Woo.
I had a constant headache yesterday. It was just relentless. I took some acetometaphin in the morning, but it didn’t get better. I have lots of drugs in the house that would have knocked it out pretty quickly – ranging from Ibuprofen to aspirin to the hardcore stuff left over from the various procedures of the last few years (expiration date? pah!). I didn’t take any of them, though. Regardless of how many times I have been advised that I can take just about anything I want when I’m not pregnant, I never feel comfortable doing it. I can only take acetometaphin because I know that it is safe no matter what.
So, despite the four acetometaphin I threw at it over a 12 hour period, my headache didn’t go away all day.
I got an email from a sort-of-friend in the neighborhood this week about the new couple who are moving in to the house on the corner one street over. She was soliciting information on contractors, etc, that she could put together in a kind of welcome to the neighborhood kit. I didn’t respond and have no intention of going to meet these new people because the couple is really a family mom, dad, a toddler and another baking in the oven. She’s pregnant, which I guessed by the beach-ball stuffed under her sweatshirt, but was confirmed by the sort-of-friend (and seriously nosy neighbor).
So, I won’t be making their acquaintance. I’ve already met my deliriously happy preggo-lady quota this month.
Deep down, I know I can turn this boat around anytime. I can head back to land and claim my life back. But, right now, that seems like giving up the fight.