What's Up? I'm Really Going to Tell You

What's up? How are you? Standard questions, right? It's what we ask people when we haven't seen them for a while, or even if we have seen them, and we're just starting a conversation. But we don't really expect an answer when we ask, do we? Let's be honest. We really don't care. When I ask parents and Parent/Teacher Conference how they are, I don't really want to know about their divorce or their struggles with their youngest. I don't care. I want them to say fine, so I can go on and shatter that illusion.

That's why it would have been odd of for me to tell a friend from an old single's ward whom I ran into yesterday that I started my period ( I didn't do it, in case that wasn't clear). Picture it:
"Hey, Sarah, I haven't seen your for a while."
"Me neither! What's going on with you?"
"Oh, I just moved to Draper. What's up with you?"
"Oh I just started my period and I am really excited."
Weird.
First of all, this response fits into the category of TMI (too much information). Second, who's excited for her period? Not normal people. But I have this urge to tell everyone that I am currently surfing the crimson. Why?

Because what's really up, and how I am really doing is a very long story, which very few people know. Most people know that Joe and I have been trying for about two years to have a baby. We have been hellaciously unsuccessful. Statistics show that about 40% of infertility is female related, 40% is male related, and 20% is both. Guess who's in the 20%? (Our exact diagnosis is, quite frankly, no one's business). I believe we have received the worst news that someone in our situation could imagine hearing; however, there is a small glimmer of hope in our quest to become pregnant, and Joe and I feel that this is the road that we should take, and we are pretty confident it will work. It just depends on my having a period regularly. And currently, I am holding strong at a 36 day cycle (which seems long to most people, but extremely short when you're used to a 66 day cycle). So, now you can see why the intense cramps that had me in the fetal position during my prep hour was good news, and you can understand why on Sunday, when the Relief Society president asked if anyone had anything to share, I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn't blurt out, "I'm having intense cramps and bleeding like a slaughtered pig! YES!" (I am imagining saying "Yes" with an enclosed fist and an elbow at a right angle jabbing into my side in a very After-School-Special way). So in a couple of weeks, we will officially try again. Keep your fingers crossed, and if anyone thinks of it, prayers would be great.

What else is going on? I have gained ten pounds and I can't wear any of the summer clothes I bought last year. Not as exciting as starting my period, by the way. And my brother is getting married in ten weeks. The marriage is great news--we are really excited for that part. It's just the photography aspect I am not looking forward to. Yarley is pregnant, so she will have an excuse to look bloated. I don't. So what's up? I am dieting and exercising in the futal attempt to lose AT LEAST ten pounds before July. I know that sounds easy. One pound a week, right? Wrong. And this goes back to the baby thing. My body has a problem with losing weight. The effort to lose ten pounds for me is about the same amount of effort it takes my mom to lose twenty-five pounds. No quite fair. But I'll try my best. Maybe by July I will be pregnant and can blame my rotund new look on (what would be) the pea-sized organism floating around like a sea monkey. One can only hope!

So here's to losing weight, and here's to celebrating the disgusting feeling that is my period!