Two Good Eggs

Two cracked eggs find the sunnyside (and funny side) of trying to conceive

[Article Recc] How not to say the wrong thing

Sharing from the LA Times – and it’s brilliant.  I am going to begin sharing this with people who want to help me, but can’t seem to find an appropriate way to do so.  THIS is a resource for everyone.

How not to say the wrong thing

It works in all kinds of crises – medical, legal, even existential. It’s the ‘Ring Theory’ of kvetching. The first rule is comfort in, dump out.

The rules of kvetching(Illustration by Wes Bausmith / Los Angeles Times)
Susan Silk and Barry Goldman

When Susan had breast cancer, we heard a lot of lame remarks, but our favorite came from one of Susan’s colleagues. She wanted, she needed, to visit Susan after the surgery, but Susan didn’t feel like having visitors, and she said so. Her colleague’s response? “This isn’t just about you.”

“It’s not?” Susan wondered. “My breast cancer is not about me? It’s about you?”

The same theme came up again when our friend Katie had a brain aneurysm. She was in intensive care for a long time and finally got out and into a step-down unit. She was no longer covered with tubes and lines and monitors, but she was still in rough shape. A friend came and saw her and then stepped into the hall with Katie’s husband, Pat. “I wasn’t prepared for this,” she told him. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

This woman loves Katie, and she said what she did because the sight of Katie in this condition moved her so deeply. But it was the wrong thing to say. And it was wrong in the same way Susan’s colleague’s remark was wrong.

Susan has since developed a simple technique to help people avoid this mistake. It works for all kinds of crises: medical, legal, financial, romantic, even existential. She calls it the Ring Theory.

Draw a circle. This is the center ring. In it, put the name of the person at the center of the current trauma. For Katie’s aneurysm, that’s Katie. Now draw a larger circle around the first one. In that ring put the name of the person next closest to the trauma. In the case of Katie’s aneurysm, that was Katie’s husband, Pat. Repeat the process as many times as you need to. In each larger ring put the next closest people. Parents and children before more distant relatives. Intimate friends in smaller rings, less intimate friends in larger ones. When you are done you have a Kvetching Order. One of Susan’s patients found it useful to tape it to her refrigerator.

Here are the rules. The person in the center ring can say anything she wants to anyone, anywhere. She can kvetch and complain and whine and moan and curse the heavens and say, “Life is unfair” and “Why me?” That’s the one payoff for being in the center ring.

Everyone else can say those things too, but only to people in larger rings.

When you are talking to a person in a ring smaller than yours, someone closer to the center of the crisis, the goal is to help. Listening is often more helpful than talking. But if you’re going to open your mouth, ask yourself if what you are about to say is likely to provide comfort and support. If it isn’t, don’t say it. Don’t, for example, give advice. People who are suffering from trauma don’t need advice. They need comfort and support. So say, “I’m sorry” or “This must really be hard for you” or “Can I bring you a pot roast?” Don’t say, “You should hear what happened to me” or “Here’s what I would do if I were you.” And don’t say, “This is really bringing me down.”

If you want to scream or cry or complain, if you want to tell someone how shocked you are or how icky you feel, or whine about how it reminds you of all the terrible things that have happened to you lately, that’s fine. It’s a perfectly normal response. Just do it to someone in a bigger ring.

Comfort IN, dump OUT.

There was nothing wrong with Katie’s friend saying she was not prepared for how horrible Katie looked, or even that she didn’t think she could handle it. The mistake was that she said those things to Pat. She dumped IN.

Complaining to someone in a smaller ring than yours doesn’t do either of you any good. On the other hand, being supportive to her principal caregiver may be the best thing you can do for the patient.

Most of us know this. Almost nobody would complain to the patient about how rotten she looks. Almost no one would say that looking at her makes them think of the fragility of life and their own closeness to death. In other words, we know enough not to dump into the center ring. Ring Theory merely expands that intuition and makes it more concrete: Don’t just avoid dumping into the center ring, avoid dumping into any ring smaller than your own.

Remember, you can say whatever you want if you just wait until you’re talking to someone in a larger ring than yours.

And don’t worry. You’ll get your turn in the center ring. You can count on that.

Susan Silk is a clinical psychologist. Barry Goldman is an arbitrator and mediator and the author of “The Science of Settlement: Ideas for Negotiators.”

Sharing via the LA Times.


The Anatomy of a Cycle

Day 1: The bitch arrives with fury and my idea to not buy tampons and jinx myself is now officially the worst idea ever. I drag my puffy-eyed ass to the grocery store to buy tampons, wine, chocolate, frozen burritos, hot sauce, Little Debbie cakes, ibuprofen, and more wine. I curse my body, vitamins, and anyone who crosses my path. I’m gonna adopt another dog.

If only feminine products were this fun for us!

Day 3: I start to think of what I can do differently this time around. Exercise more? Nah. Eat better? Sure, I’ll try. More sex? Exhausting, but fine. I rattle off a dozen more ideas. SOB…why didn’t it work LAST time?! How creative and unrelenting do I need to be to get pregnant. I bet the pregnant sixteen-year-old down the street has a few tips. Bitch!

Day 6: Ahh. New hope. Order new OPKs and PreSeed online? Check! I’m going to try X,Y,Z this month. New possibilities! My smile has genuinely returned. I start temping again.

Day 9: The EOD sex begins until I start seeing fertility signs. Then it is on like donkey kong for a few straight days! I look up estimated delivery dates and think about how I might announce our pregnancy depending on holidays, etc. Inevitably, I find an excuse to buy MORE baby stuff to add the embarrassing collection I’ve amassed and stored in the guest room closet.

Day 12: I hope I ovulate like a normal person this time around. I don’t have the patience to wait another week. Hello? Egg? Come on! I begin to stalk TTC forums.

Day 15: Yay! Ovulation is near and I start to feel like this is THE month, as usual. OPKs are getting darker. I become best friends with my peekachoo and her CM rub the tatas far too often. Wheres that tell-tale slip ‘n slide?

Day 18: The Two Week Wait is in full swing and my chart finally confirmed an egg. Now, it’s hands off for a little while. No more legs in the air! Come on boys, get that egg!

Day 21: Only five days into the TWW and it’s already dragging. Too early to test, but not too early to obsess. I notice every twinge and watch my temps like a hawk. Pregnancy charts are now always open in a window on my iPad. “Mine looks like that!”

Note the title of her chart…of course!

Day 24: I think the little eggie implanted last night. I felt a sharp stab while I was playing online poker. This “baby” likes to gamble, too. I ask DH if I have a glow yet. He laughs and tells me I’m always glowing. Hmmff!

Day 27: I’ve probably gone through an easy ten tests by now. Every time I pee, I test. Then examine. Then obsess. Then reexamine with a flashlight and a magnifying glass. All BFNs damnit. That’s okay. It’s still early, despite the fact that every girl on the forums can get a positive at 9 or 10 DPO! Whatever. My baby’s just a late bloomer.

Day 30: Mild cramps are incessant and my temperature is dropping. I won’t give up. I research anything and everything related to each of my insignificant symptoms. I get pissed. Why the hell is this so hard?! I empty all the pregnancy tests from the shelves at Target, CVS, and the Dollar Tree. I try six brands and drop 80 bucks. B…F…N.   I cancel automatic emails from the TWW Buddy Groups. I can’t stand to hear another BFP announcement, or the “I’m not pregnant, but we weren’t really trying so I’m cool with it!” GFY (Did anyone decipher that last acronym? I’m going to hell.)

I imagine this kid punching me in the face every time I get a BFN

And it starts all over again…

And for future reference:



I went to happy hour with a former coworker and a friend of hers whom I’d never met. She (the unknown friend) proceeded to tell us, after consuming a bottle of wine on her own, that she has two children, but she should have four. I thought she was about to open up about loss, but I was sorely mistaken.

“I took the last two to clinics. Different clinics. I didn’t want to look like a ‘regular.’ I don’t want anymore kids! Ugh!”

I was speechless. What a class act! Look, I’m not going to get fired up about abortion, but this was over the top for me. She was bragging about using abortion as birth control and that makes me sick. Especially when the woman is in her thirties, in a stable relationship, and thriving financially. It’s times like these, and people like this, that really make me wonder. We can’t get pregnant, but someone like this can.


Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. (deep breath)


Bringing Snarky Back

Is it just me, or do we need to “bring snarky back” after all the stress and sad memories October handed us? I think so!

I want to hear the most ridiculous things people have said to you while you have been trying to conceive and what you WISH you would have said in return.

Let’s start with a few examples:

1) Maybe you should try to eat better.
How about you back the fuck off my frozen burritos and Texas Pete. I want my future baby to love Mexican food as much as I do!

2) You’re trying too hard.
You’re right. I’m trying very hard not to stab you in the face with a fork right now.

3) Are you sure you want a baby?
I’m as sure I want a baby as I am that you are an asshole. Are you sure you want that third donut, fatty?

4) Just have fun with it.
Do me a favor and pee on your hand accidentally everyday, inject lube into your peekachoo with a syringe, take your temperature every morning, stare at pregnancy tests until you’re cross eyed, watch everyone around you get pregnant without trying, and tell me exactly where I should squeeze in the fun?

5) God has a plan for you.
God and I already had this conversation, and we’re trying to come to a compromise. I asked him not to tell you what his plan was for me because you’re a meddling gossip. He agreed with me and said you should try to focus on yourself and his plan for you. Hint: He’s a little irritated and it’s not looking good.

6) Everything happens for a reason. 

The reason you are about to be slapped is because of your mouth. 

So what do you have for me ladies and gents?


Too Beautiful for Earth

 Beautiful quote…

An angel in the book of life wrote down my baby’s birth. And whispered as she closed the book, “too beautiful for Earth.” -unknown


1 Comment »

Checked CM while driving

Yup. You read that right. I started cramping and freaked out. The next thing I know, my right hand was missing. I checked for vehicles that were taller than my car. Cool. No eighteen wheelers to spy on me.

Where’s my antibac?

I need a manicure…





POAS at Walmart Today…

Confession time: I found an old, unused EPT under the seat in my car (pathetic) and decided to pull into the Walmart parking lot (classy) and give it a go at 9DPO (delusional.) It was a BFN. Shocker!

Hope everyone is having a less trashy day than I am! 😉


Giveaway Coming Soon!!

Stay tuned peeps…we are putting together a great giveaway package for one or more of our readers! We will have more information on how to enter later this week!

Who doesn’t love free stuff?!

Leave a comment »

Symptom Stalking…Oh Yeah, We Do This!

“I can’t change the litter box, babe. I might be pregnant. And I probably shouldn’t eat that feta, either.  But I will have a glass of wine.”

Am I the only one who’s convinced she’s knocked up every month?  I symptom stalk with the best of ’em. Forums, books, websites, and blogs have slowly morphed me into a self-diagnosing, wanna-be-mom monster. Two months ago, I had every pregnancy symptom listed in the Google universe. And boy, was I pumped!

My list of “maternal” maladies looked something like this: nausea, bloating, sore nipples, fatigue, light cramping, high temperatures, a cold sore, late period, hot flashes, a high, soft cervix, cold chills, and “that feeling.” And wouldn’t you know, Aunt Flow (aka the grim reaper) showed up swiftly and arrogantly just moments after I purchased a cute onesie to stash in the guest room closet. Isn’t irony a beautiful thing?

Scrambled had a candid, humorous post a few days ago regarding spotting pregnant women everywhere. I couldn’t agree with her more. We spot the impregnated at every turn.  We spot our own “pregnancy” symptoms. We think we spot a positive line on a pregnancy test. And then we start spotting as the vicious cycle repeats!

I find a reason every month why it would make perfect sense for me to finally become pregnant: the pseudo symptoms, the perfect delivery date, career timing, Chinese gender calendar predictions, etc. The last two months were especially disappointing. I had hoped to surprise my husband with a pregnancy announcement in August on our wedding anniversary, but instead the witch arrived. This month, my husband and I optimistically planned to open a gender announcement together on Christmas  morning.  The anatomy scan would have been scheduled a few days before the holidays and we were going to ask the technician to seal the results in an envelope without telling us. We thought it would be the perfect reason to bound from bed like little kids in anticipation of St. Nick’s bestowing.  I guess we can shoot for a Martin Luther King Day boy/girl reveal if we get lucky this month!

For a woman who claims to be founded in facts and evidence, I sure have become a superstitious, “just maybe” kind of gal over the last year. My mind has been taken over by twinges, temp spikes, pee tests, and thoughts of a tot of my own.

I will continue to symptom stalk because it gives me a hope and retains the title “crazy” that I have so proudly acquired. What I will try to differently, however, is to enjoy myself in the meantime. Drink ’til it’s pink. Pop a Xanax here and there. Maybe have sex when I’m not officially fertile. You know, the good stuff? 😉


Signs you may be obsessed with TTC

  • You have more pictures on your phone of squinter pee strips than you do of your husband.
  • You have checked for CM while driving your car.
  • You keep plastic cups and OPK strips in your purse.
  • Your boobs are felt up more in a 7-10 day span than they were throughout all your high school years.

    Your bathroom looks like a drug-testing lab.

  • “Chart” and “Test” are considered verbs.
  • Your fingers are in you more often than your husband’s.

You don’t know if that spot on your iPad is from Diet Coke or urine.  

  • You buy a new thermometer every month because clearly that’s the reason your temp reading isn’t high enough.
  • You speak in acronyms without realizing it.
  • You find yourself walking down the hall at work with your thighs pressed together.

  You can’t look at egg whites as a breakfast option.

  • You know the Dollar Tree employees by name, and they wish you good luck when you leave.
  • You chat with strangers online about your bodily fluids.

You take cough medicine and you’re not sick.

  • You have used OPK strips in your car cup holder.
  • You have an “after-sex pillow” on your floor, and you only wash it once a week.

     You’ve ever POAS in a public bathroom.

  • Your phone auto corrects normal words and changes them to OPK, DPO, HPT or TWW.
  • You refer to tampons as ” devil sticks.”

Ovulation is more celebrated than birthdays or holidays.  

  • You live your life by Cycle Days, not days of the month.
  • You block pregnant friends on Facebook.
  • You can predict a due date more quickly than an Ob/Gyn.

  Your husband grimaces any time you say, “Honey, come look at this.”

  • You have your Christmas card picked out based on whether or not you can announce your pregnancy at the same time.
  • You have used HPTs in your car console. Should rename them Car Pregnancy Tests.

You save all of your OPKs and HPTs in your bathroom drawer.  

  • You think you “feel” something, and run to the bathroom to check for fluid.
  • You argue more with your husband about who’s on top instead of who has the remote control.
  • Your first thought when someone announces they’re pregnant is, “Bitchass”

   The “F” in BFN can mean more than one thing.

  • Sex is a chore, and doing laundry is productive.
  • You congratulate (or thank) your partner when he can finish quickly.

You have already started a private baby registry online.  

  • You convince yourself the nausea is due to pregnancy, not the four frozen bean burritos you ate.
  • You can spot newly pregnant women with the skills of a sniper.

  You stopped getting manicures because your nails must remain short.

  • You walk through the baby section at stores “accidentally” all the time.
  • You wait to plan vacations a year from now because you might be pregnant when the time comes.

  You can quote HPT prices for the top 5 brands at stores in seven counties.


%d bloggers like this: