Struggles

As mentioned in previous posts, I'm working through some unexplained fertility issues. It's been a very emotional past six months trying to get to the bottom of it all with virtually no steps forward. However, about a week and a half ago, I met one of my favorite people in my life right now: Dr. C. He's a reproductive endocrinologist who started an infertility clinic in my area because he thought infertility patients weren't getting the careful attention and special care they need (holla!). I waited almost four (excruciatingly long) weeks for my appointment with him and creepily cyber-stalked him on his website and watched his provider profile video sometimes more than once a day.

Yeah, I know you're totally sitting there thinking I'm a complete nut job after hearing that.

But don't worry, I'm not a nut job. Basically just because women who are infertile get a free pass to do weird stuff like that when they want a baby.

Anyway, like I said: Dr. C. and I? BFFs. Hubs and I went in to see him and he ordered blood work and an ultrasound straightaway. He then proceeded to call me the following morning at 6:50 in the morning because he knew I taught elementary school and wanted to have a chance to talk with me before I went to school.

Um, yeah. At that point I realized we were kindred spirits. (I'm hoping everyone is picking up on the sarcasm at this point. I promise I'm not that psycho.)

Anyhow, he called because he found out that my thyroid was a lil' sluggish (as my momma had previously diagnosed sans a medical degree because she's just that smart and awesome... and because mommas just know these things about their kids) and put me on some thyroid medicine that I'll take indefinitely to help my body out a bit. Wonderfully enough, a sluggish thyroid can lead to infertility. I say "wonderfully" simply because I've been dying for a reason for all of these baby-makin' troubles we seem to have. At this point, we don't know if that's been my problem or not; in fact, we may never know -- because my BFF (Dr. C., if you've forgotten -- but how could you forget?), who I got to visit with yesterday morning before school, put me on a lovely little pink pill called Femara.

So now, at least for the next five days, I'll be injesting a nice, pastel-colored kitty cocktail of medicines that will (cross your fingers!) help my body do what it needs to. Which means I'll have to wait for another ten days (only nine now because one day has already passed... woohoo!) to see if it worked.

And you see, that's the hard part. Waiting. Well, yes, waiting is hard -- but staying positive for that entire ten days is the hardest. It's been a mere 36-hours since I visited with Dr. C. and he told me what we'd do next, and I've already experienced a whole smorgasbord of emotions. First I was excited: we have another shot at getting pregnant! And then I was convinced we were going to get pregnant this round, so I shopped online after school for maternity clothes (what the -- who does that before they're pregnant, much less prior to having the chance to be pregnant? This girl does. Remember: going through this gives one a free license to have a case of the crazies).

Unfortunately, the positive crazies bug wore off by around 8:00 and my mind wandered to worst-case-scenario. I had been with my friends (my real ones this time, as opposed to my fake BFF) and came home to my husband around 10:00 and had a good cry, convinced this fertility treatment wouldn't work either and I'd never get to have my tummy grow or have a reason to eat handful after handful of skittles, washed down by a chocolate-Oreo milkshake or have the amazing feeling of my baby kicking me from the inside or get to complain about stretch marks (which, by the way, I'll never complain about. I'm totally fine with having a tummy like a tiger if it meant being blessed with babies!).

And you know why I love my husband? He refuses to buy into the gloom and doom that I so easily throw out there to him. He remains steadfast and convinced that this will work and that I shouldn't worry about it. And while it made me totally want to throw a pillow at him across the room when he was arguing with me about why he was so positive and confident that it would work, he helped me see something. Because when I calmed down, I asked him the question I find myself pondering pretty frequently lately.

"Why do you think this is part of God's plan? Why do you think He's saying 'no' right now?"

And it became extremely apparent that he has put lots of time into thinking about that same question. Except he actually thought about it -- versus me, who thought about it and never took the time to pray about it and listen and instead chose to throw a mental temper tantrum and mega-sized pity party in my mind. The thought he shared with me that I'm trying to continue to be mindful of was this:

Maybe God has a plan for our baby. Maybe he or she can't be born yet, because God's plans for them are that they will cure cancer -- but they won't be able to do it until such-and-such time. Or maybe He's just planning who they'll meet, marry and have a family with -- and maybe for that, they need to go to school a little later so they can meet.

And at that moment, I realized I'm totally selfish. This whole thing isn't just about me and how badly I want a baby. It's not even about my husband and how badly he wants a baby. It includes this other little life too, and God's plan for them.

Ultimately, we may never know the reason why this is happening. But for now, the thought of my baby's life already being mapped out really provides at least a small amount of comfort -- even when I get a case of the crazies.

Broadening My Horizons

Recently, I've begun to expand and broaden my horizons in terms of food. Yes, as a lifelong vegetarian opposite (in other words, a complete carnivore... literally NO veggies), I've finally begun trying to incorporate leafy greens into my diet. I did this originally because I read somewhere that not eating certain foods while pregnant (which, alas, I am not) can make your child allergic to that particular food. Whether or not that's for rizzle, I don't know -- but I'd rather not take the chance. And thus began my relationship with the only veggie I'll eat, which also happens to be a "super food": SPINACH! So every single day for lunch, you'll find me with my usual (I am a creature of habit -- same thing every. Single. Day. Just ask my teacher friends who eat lunch with me every day) and a side salad of spinach and strawberries. Mmm mmm mmm.

But this post is not about my superveggie friend, spinach. No, friends -- this one is about this evening's horizon broadening recipe that I tested out.

Yesterday, I made a rotisserie chicken in the crockpot. Oh so yummy and made the apartment smell completely delicious. And even better: it'll last at least four meals for the hubs and I. Saweet! Delicious + thrifty = my fave.

Anyway, with the delicious leftovers, I decided to try something new: a buffalo chicken calzone.

And let me tell you... it was awesome.

Every recipe I found initially on Pinterest (what else?) called for bleu cheese. Now, I said I was broadening my horizons with food -- not going completely abroad with them. And when I Googled "What does bleu cheese taste like?" (yes, I really did Google it. And yes, I believe Google knows just about everything. Just ask my doctor. I'm a walking encyclopedia on infertility thanks to Mr. G. and my obsessive compulsive behaviors toward self diagnosis of my woman problems. Anyway.) I found out that bleu cheese apparently tastes like feet.

So with that quick bit of information, I abruptly crossed bleu cheese off the list and decided to leave that key ingredient out.

Until, of course, hubby (a buffalo chicken extraordinaire, thanks to Applebee's half price boneless buffalo wings) shared with me that a wonderful complement to buffalo sauce is a rich, creamy ranch to cool one's palate.

Okay, you caught me: he totally didn't say that. Well, he did. Just not in that whole, foodie snob way. But basically, he told me that when you go out to eat and order something buffalo-esque, your choices for dip are typically either a bleu cheese sauce or ranch.

Unfortunately, I don't like ranch. Or any salad dressing for that matter.

But, in the spirit of becoming a little more brave on the food front, I decided I'd give 'er a try. And, as previously stated... it was awesome. Let me share, please.

Buffalo Chicken Calzones

Here's whatcha need:

• One packet of Great Value pizza crust mix (no, I don't make my own dough... sorry. I've made many versions of pizza dough over the past few years of married life, and they're really not that outstanding -- this Wal-Mart brand is ridiculously cheap [59 cents!], quick and nummy. I promise. It's all I use for homemade pizza.)
• One cup of pizza cheese (it has a mixture of shredded mozzarella and cheddar cheese in it. Obviously you could also go for 1/2 cup mozze and 1/2 cup cheddar instead... same diff.)
• One tablespoon of ranch dressing (although this next time, I'd probably up it to two tablespoons... and I don't even like ranch).
• Two-ish cups of chicken, already cooked, cut into 1/2 inch(ish) chunks.
• 1/4 cup Frank's Red Hot Buffalo sauce... or more, if you like more heat :)

And here's whatcha do:

Preheat your oven to 500 degrees (yes, 500! I know, I couldn't believe it when lucky me could turn the oven all the way up. You never get to do that. Eeek!)

Make the pizza dough as directed on the package. Let it rise five minutes like it says on the package.

While you let the dough rise, cut up your chicken into half-inchish chunks. Put it in a tupperware or a bowl and drizzle a quarter cup of Frank's Buffalo sauce on it. Snap the lid on the tupperware and shake-shake-shake until it's evenly coated.

After your dough is done rising, it should be real easy to press out on a pizza pan into a squoval (that's a square-oval, for those of you who don't do "calzone-speak", by the by).

On half of your squoval, spread your ranch dressing. On top of that, add your freshly-sauced chicken.
Then, add almost all of your cheese on top of the chicken. Spread it out evenly...

This is just prior to adding the cheese...

Next, fold the undecorated side of your dough over the side that has the party going on on it. Roll the edges together in an upward motion and pinch them down so no yummy insides can sneak out.

Finally, sprinkle your remaining cheese on the top of the calzone and spread a little olive oil on it, too.



Send it away to the oven for 12 minutes and cross your fingers that you'll actually like the taste of this concoction.

When the time is up, pull it out (obviously) and let it cool for five or so minutes. Unless you have a hubby that's staaaaarving. I only let mine cool for about a minute because the aforementioned event occurred in my kitch. So I caved and cut into it too soon, which resulted in cheese oozing out when I cut into it. But that was fine. I was maybe a teensy hungry too. Just a bit. And curious. Just a bit.



So I cut her up and on the plates she went.



And let me tell you. It was awesome (yes, I know that's the third time I've used awesome in this post to describe the taste of this calzone. I'll use a thesaurus next time, okay?).

It was so good that we ate the whole thing. Mmmhmmm, not even one little corner piece of leftovers.

So anyway, I now know why buffalo sauce and ranch are often paired up like PB & J. Like Bert and Ernie! Like me and the hubs.

It's a perfect pair that I'm so glad I broadened my little foodie horizons for. So try it, enjoy it... hey, you could even Pin it (ha)!

Happy Wednesday!