2015 is totally going to be my Taylor Swift comeback

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been almost 4 months since my last post.

Ok, that's NOT true. For those of you following my Facebook page, you know I have been relentlessly writing about my infertile self weekly for the past several months. What? You don't follow my Facebook page? Well shit. Follow it. Do it now.

Writing for mom.me has been an awesome experience. Being paid to brag about my barrenness on the Internet has been fun. That being said, I miss this blog. And no, I am not intending to come off as a total asshole sell-out for neglecting this blog while I pursue other paid writing gigs.

I miss my blog. I miss reading comments on my blog. I miss being able to write with horrendous grammar while swearing like a fucking bar man and stealing images off the Internet for my own personal gain. This is my space. This is where I have felt at home. Also, feel free to visit me in jail after the Internet police read this paragraph.

That being said, it makes perfect ironic sense that I would post on December 31st to come to some sort of personal closure on here for 2014. Really. I'm not intending to come off as some sort of total asshole sell-out.

Here. Here is a stolen Internet picture for your enjoyment.

I do. I'm having them for my New Year's Eve supper tonight.

Where was I going with this?

The point is, now that I have some more free time in my life, I want to come back here more often.  Last year, I did an impressive 123 posts. I posted 17 times in 2014. Unacceptable.

Many of you already follow the mom.me articles on Facebook. I'm trying to be positive coming to the end of 2014. But let's face it. It's been a shitty year. Pretty much like 2013 was a shitty year.

We did our last cycle with my own eggs in May, which failed spectacularly.

In October, we traveled to Texas for a frozen donor cycle. We transferred two embryos, (that, it pains me to admit, of questionable quality) and that cycle ended with an assumed chemical pregnancy. It left me pissed off and terrified.

In December, my doctor in Texas decided enough was enough with my chemical pregnancies and we did a barrage of tests lovingly called a RPL panel, short for repeat pregnancy loss. Results? Sorry, you can read about it in next week's article. Ok, so I am kind of a total asshole sell-out.

2015, you better be a better successor than your less than worthy bitchy friends, 2013 and 2014.

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