It's official.

It's official. I took the first pill. The first pill that begins the start of my fertility treatments. And. I dragged my feet. Dragged them because I know I'm in for a not-so-happy tummy, but, it's just part of the party. I'm excited. Nervous. Scared. Trying to block out the "what if it doesn't work?", and replace those words with "I'll be pregnant in no time *shrieks of glee*". You ready for the ride? It might get ugly. I'm warning you boys out there. My one boy reader that I know of. This blog may turn into several posts full of TMI (too much information). So. The warning is as follows: buyers beware. You might get a brain full. Run. Fast. Run far, far away.

I talked to this way cool guy tonight. I love him. He's one of my bestest friends. He's my brudder.... yes, I just wrote that. He's my Keefers. And. He doesn't read this blog, so that's his name, and I'm sticking to it. The "mom and dad" came for a visit. To see him. Not me. Yikes, I know. Scarey, I know that too. He explained that the visit was alright, that they still don't do any thing normal people do (some things never change), and he also said some thing else that made my ears tingle. He said he hated that when people meet them, they seem so nice, so put together, like no one would ever know. He said to his girlfriend, and I loved this, he said "You are meeting some one I don't know, I know a person different then you're meeting". He's right. It's true. It's not like they walk around with a sign tattooed on their heads (or asses) that say "child abusers, kid beaters". No one knows what they really were were "love with-holders, dreams killers, prison enforcers". Part of me wants every one to know. They suck. And just a little part of me wants to give them a quick, hard kick in the ass. Right out the door. They better not mess with my brudder. This girl learned how to kick some ass - from the best ass kickers around - them.

Ironic, isn't it?