7/29/2016 0 Comments True Life: DepressionI’m currently CD 34 (cycle day) with no AF (aunt flow) in sight. Although, my stomach is cramping worse than ever before. This pain has been frequent, but intermittent since last Thursday. So, I’m not getting my hopes up.
Yesterday, I called the doctor’s office again. I realized that next week I’ll be in a training all day every day and won’t be able to make it to the doctor’s office before they close. My doctor had originally told me that if I hadn’t started my period by the end of the week I needed to go in for a blood test. I was calling to see if I needed an appointment for that or if I could just swing by. The nurse that returned my call (they never answer on the first try), told me that I didn’t need to come in for a blood test. Great. I love their consistency. She explained that they cannot prescribe medicine to induce a period until cycle day 35 or later. Well that’s going to be a Saturday for me and I can’t come in next week. Sucks for me I guess. Not having a regular cycle is uncharted territory for me so I had a lot of questions. The nurse started explaining that they would not prescribe me medication until Monday, but they could just call it into my pharmacy. She then began to explain how the medication works. Depending on what the doctor prescribes I could take the medicine for 5, 7 or 10 days. It could take an additional two weeks AFTER I stop taking the medicine before my period starts. If this is the case, how do we actually know this medication is actually what causes your period to start and not that it’s just been a really long time and it finally decides to show up? So basically, worst case scenario, I may not start my period until August 24th. That will put me at cycle day 16 on the day of my surgery. The surgery has to be completed prior to cycle day 12. So, I would have to be put on birth control so that we don’t have to push the surgery back another cycle. I was really trying to keep it together, but this news really pushed me over the edge. I was sobbing so hard I’m not sure how she could actually understand what I was saying. But somehow, she managed to stay calm and empathize AND answer my questions. She was so sweet and patient and talked to me for over 20 minutes. She told me she knows this process sucks and it’s scary. She let me know I am not the only person to yell and cry at her or others on the phone. She told me it was okay that I was on the bad end of this emotional roller coaster and that it was my right to feel that way. I began telling her how frustrated I was by this entire process so she put me on hold to read my file. She thoroughly explained everything that I asked about. She had absolutely no explanation for why they originally coded my surgery as “tubal ligation.” She also did not dwell on this, which leads me to believe they really did screw up the first time. But, that is not her fault and there’s nothing I can do about it now. I asked her what her opinion was on having an OB/GYN do the surgery. She gently pointed out that’s not really their expertise, but did give me a list of clinics that she would recommend. But then, even more gently pointed out that no one can do anything until I start my period anyway. By the time we got off the phone, I was no less depressed, but I was less angry. I think it’s painfully clear that I meet criteria for a diagnosis of depression. Pretty sure it doesn’t take a psychologist to figure that one out. Depression is pretty horrible. If you haven’t read Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson I highly recommend it. She describes “the spoon theory.” Everyone has a certain amount of spoons each day to get through the day. Each activity requires one spoon. Some days you have less spoons and some days you have more spoons. I love this weird explanation as it makes so much sense to me. Some days I can shower, put on make-up, and decent clothes. I can go out and enjoy myself. Some days I cannot even force myself to brush my teeth or get off the couch at all. These last few days it’s taken me about four hours to be functional. (I have a very loose definition of functional right now). Sometimes I lie in the bed for an hour or so after I wake up. Then I mosey to the couch for the rest of the day watching Golden Girls and Game Show Network while petting my cats. I haven’t even been able to convince myself to cook an egg for breakfast. I’ve been living on Belvita bars and canned soup I’ve “cooked” in the microwave. I’ve been scrounging for snacks in between until my husband comes home and feeds me. I think I’ve also been averaging 10-12 hours of sleep per day. I’ve been taking a couple of naps during the day and then still going to bed at my normal time. A quote from one of my favorite books, “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” really resonates with me right now. “I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.” Sleeping seems to be a much better option than being awake right now. Going out into public requires so much energy. I have to shower, brush my teeth, find acceptable clothing AND dry my hair. I’m exhausted just thinking about it. I cannot remember the last time I put make-up on because I don’t ever have enough spoons for that. Then I have to pull myself together so I’m not a total drag the whole time. I really have to practice visualizing all the things I could possibly encounter in public so that I don’t have a panic attack or spontaneously burst into tears. If I’m going somewhere with a 30 minute or more commute I usually listen to really depressing music and cry the whole way so I can get it out of my system before I get to my destination. Another quote from “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” that feels so appropriate to me right now: “I wanted to tell people, "My depression is acting up today" as an excuse for not seeing them, but I never managed to pull it off.” It’s weird that even though I know my friends know that I’m depressed, I have this same thought every time and yet I still never verbalize my unwillingness to go out into public this way even though it’s the truth. I’m actually really looking forward to having work all week next week. I know the only cure for self-imposed bed rest is structure and routine. It’s the only way to keep going. I’m exposing the truths of my depression not because I want people to feel sorry for me, but because so many people have depression and can’t or won’t share their experiences. Depression is still one of the things that’s too stigmatizing to talk about. I’m going to leave this post with a Jenny Lawson quote: “Without the dark there isn’t light. Without the pain there is no relief. And I remind myself that I’m lucky to be able to feel such great sorrow, and also such great happiness. I can grab on to each moment of joy and live in those moments because I have seen the bright contrast from dark to light and back again. I am privileged to be able to recognize that the sound of laughter is a blessing and a song, and to realize that the bright hours spent with my family and friends are extraordinary treasures to be saved, because those same moments are a medicine, a balm. Those moments are a promise that life is worth fighting for, and that promise is what pulls me through when depression distorts reality and tries to convince me otherwise.”
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7/27/2016 0 Comments I literally can't even....I’m so angry right now I can’t even stand myself. I briefly considering creating this post after I “calmed down.” However, I have got to a point in my life where I’ve learned time does not heal all wounds. In fact, on the road of infertility time only seems to exacerbate the problem.
Yesterday, the office called back and said somehow my insurance is now miraculously agreeing to this laparoscopic surgery. When I asked what was different this time versus back in APRIL, she said something incomprehensible to those not familiar with medical jargon. She said something along the lines of it was previously coded as tubal ligation. Now, I’m not doctor but that sounds a whole lot like having your tubes tied. Then when I asked why it was coded that way she really just kind of stammered and then asked me when I had my tubal reversal. Ummmm….I’m 28 years old with no children. I have not had my tubes tied so why would I need them to be reversed? I was literally so taken aback I suddenly had no words. Then she asked me what had changed with my diagnosis since April. I’m going to go full on Millennial here and just say, “I literally can’t even.” Absolutely nothing has changed on my end! She seemed at a loss as to why it was coded that way previously. I seriously began to wonder if she had the correct file or even knew who she was speaking to. I tried to just remain calm and be glad that they were now agreeing to pay for the surgery. However, she was unable to tell me how much this was going to cost because apparently the insurance dictates how much the surgery costs. How is that possibly true? What kind of country are we living in anyway? The only thing she could guarantee was that we would not have to pay more than $3,000 since that is our out of pocket maximum. Fantastic. Whatever. I’ll pay it. She said the surgery lady would be calling me to set up the surgery. So I waited. And waited. And waited. No call by the end of the day. There was a good four hours or so between that phone call and the close of business. So today I impatiently waited more. I managed to only call twice before she called me. She told me I could be squeezed into a cancellation this Friday. I was so elated. Finally, we are getting somewhere! Oh wait. There’s this pesky problem where I haven’t started my period because of the Clomid. They have to do the surgery within the first 12 days of your cycle. Otherwise your insides are too enlarged and there’s more risk for complications. So now I have to wait until September 9th. I cannot explain how furious I am. At this point if I were capable of setting the world on fire, I would give it a strong consideration. I almost started bawling. My doctor is approximately 200 years old, so he no longer does surgery. There’s another doctor in the practice who is going out on maternity leave (must be nice) so she isn’t available for surgery either. They have only one person doing surgeries and he only does them on Friday. I would hate to interfere with his golf game. If I could go back in time and never take Clomid, I absolutely would not take it. I swear if one more person tells me something is “all going to be worth it,” I’m going to need someone to bail me out of jail. I cannot believe in a few short weeks I’m going to have to wake up every day and go to work and pretend to be a person. I feel like I have completely wasted the last three months of my life and I have to waste two more. I feel like I’m being horribly punished. I would take any other punishment than this. I literally lie awake at night bargaining with the universe of all the things I would give up in order to have a healthy baby (I’ve started making my wishes a little more specific this days). I wish I could be put into a coma until September 9th. I literally have no idea how I can live that much longer in this state of limbo. That means the earliest we can try to have a baby again is October. (For the love of Christ please do not say anything along the lines of “Well you have to keep hope. You could still have one naturally.” No I cannot. I cannot have hope and I cannot have a baby naturally. I’m pretty sure I have a higher chance of being struck by lightning than conceiving naturally. If I could get pregnant on hope alone, I would've gotten pregnant a long time ago. When I asked this surgery lady point blank what was different this time than last time, she had absolutely no answer. She just stammered incomprehensibly. Also, when she called she asked for Whitney. *Cue the song, “That’s Not My Name”* Again, giving me great hope in the people who have my fate in their hands. I feel like they really made a terrible mistake and they are unwilling to admit to it. I absolutely blame them for this mess and I can no longer trust them. I cannot stress how excruciating it is to waste so much of my life with these people. Fertility treatments are such a money racket. If I lived closer to a different facility I like to think I would try a different facility, but I am sure they are all the same. I do not feel like they are actually invested in me having a successful pregnancy. They just want my money. This experience has really changed me as a person and I know I’ll never be the person I used to be. I’ve heard so many people and read so many articles and blogs where women have said they appreciate this journey after they have a baby. All I have to say to that is, the brain must do some weird shit to help you cope with negative experiences. I don’t ever see myself being even remotely grateful for this experience. I am so full of hate and anger I can barely stand myself. There seems to be nothing that can take the hurt, the pain, the anger, the bitterness and jealousy away. It only seems to grow more every minute of every day. Now my next step is to get my period and wait until the end of time. If I don’t start my period by Monday I have to go in and get a prescription of Provera to induce my period. If my period takes too long to come I could have to wait until October to have this surgery done. I just want to break everything in our house, knock holes in the wall, and scream and cry until I feel better. Luckily, I don’t have the energy for all that. So, I’m just going to lie on the couch with Maxwell until I run out of tears to cry. I found this Keanu Reeves quote, “Grief changes shape, but it never ends.” So true. So true. 7/26/2016 0 Comments All for NaughtAnother two week wait has come and gone. I don’t even know what to say. There are no words for the deep level of sadness I have felt over the last few days. I cannot understand how we’ve done everything right with negative results. I drank pomegranate juice, religiously had acupuncture, avoided caffeine, took warm (not hot) showers, made sure I stayed cool and avoided strenuous activities. I know that IUIs have low success rates, but we wouldn’t have done it if we didn’t have some hope it would work for us. I have loathed my body for most of my life. But, nothing compares to now. My body feels broken and useless.
I hate Clomid so much. I can’t even count the number of side effects I experienced. I have a giant bald spot, I gained six pounds, and I was so moody. I was constantly ravenous, but nothing seemed appetizing and then I would feel sick after eating. I had weird sensations in abdominal area with severe breast/nipple pain. My nether regions constantly felt inflamed and irritated. I was tired all the time. I had hot flashes and night sweats. I feel like I had every symptom of pregnancy except for pregnancy. My period still hasn’t even come. But, seven pregnancy tests later all still negative. The first pregnancy test I took was a Clear Blue test. Apparently now that the tests are physically curved the indentation lines are more pronounced so it looks like you have a very faint positive line. I hope someone starts a law suit. When you see a faint blue line only to discover it’s because the test is faulty is the worst feeling in the world. Every Clear Blue test I took had a faint blue line. The worst part is when you tell people this and they say “you should’ve used a *insert their preferred test here*” Thank you. That’s super helpful. I used 7 different tests made up of 4 different brands. I’m glad I have no idea how much money we’ve wasted on pregnancy tests over the last year and a half. Or maybe my “favorite” comment is when people have said, “You think those side effects are bad wait until you have real pregnancy symptoms.” Thanks. I appreciate it. Your healthy pregnancy must have been so much worse than my infertility. I will gladly take all pregnancy symptoms if I could have a freaking pregnancy. I have also had at least three different people insinuate that my cats and their litter boxes are the reason we can’t get pregnant. Matt has been on solo cat litter duty for almost two years now. Matt doesn’t even want me to use household cleaners to clean the house. So, I don’t think that’s it. I’m terrified that my period isn’t going to come and I’m going to have to take MORE medicine just to induce my period. If it hasn’t come by the end of the week then I’ll have to go in for a blood test and then if it’s negative I guess we will have that conversation. We’ve also revisited the conversation of “to surgery or not to surgery?” The doctor seemed very pro surgery until I reminded him the insurance isn’t paying for it. Then he essentially said we should save that money for a down payment on IVF. He’s having the office run it through insurance again for shits and gigs. I’m supposed to hear sometime today if we’ve convinced the insurance to pay. I’m definitely not getting my hopes up there. So, I’m guessing we will try one more IUI before moving to IVF. I saw a picture on Instagram a few months ago with the quote “infertility is learning to live in grief while finding a way to a fulfilling life.” This quote could not be a more accurate, poignant description of infertility. I can’t remember if I’ve already shared this quote on the blog. But every month I remember this quote and how true it is. Every month I try to picture what my life would be like without a child. It’s a very painful image. I grew up an only child. I’m not terribly close with my extended family. I grew up very far away from most of my family. The family I had close enough to interact with aren’t worth knowing. How can two people really be a family? I have given adoption a very serious consideration. I really have no desire to adopt an older child. I’m glad there are people out there who can do that, but I just don’t think that’s for me. I want an infant. Truthfully, I want my own flesh and blood infant. I would consider adopting an infant. But, it is incredibly expensive. I’m talking $30,000-$40,000 expensive. I’ve also heard terrible horror stories about how the biological mothers changed their minds after giving up their child. The biological mother has one week after birth to change her mind. I could not take a baby into my house and then have give him or her back. I’ve also heard stories of how families have been on lists for multiple years. I really just don’t think I could wait for so many years. I’ve seen so many women that have been on this journey for 10 or more years. I just don’t think I’m that strong. But I also don’t know how I could possibly stop trying. I love Winston Churchill so I will stop here, “If you are going through hell, keep going.” 7/19/2016 0 Comments CatsTime is literally standing still this two week wait. I could’ve sworn yesterday was long enough to count for three days. I had a lot of work last week and very little this week. I feel like every second of every day I am completely consumed by thoughts of pregnancy or lack of pregnancy. I cannot turn off my brain. I can’t read. I can’t pay attention to the TV. It’s all consuming – especially when I’m by myself.
My cats are the best. We have three cats. Our oldest is Momo. She’ll be six this summer. She is gray and white and very regal. She believes the purpose of humans is to feed her and let her in and outside. Occasionally, she graces us with her presence. River is our middle child. We adopted her when she was six months old after our cat POTUS snuck outside and never returned. River will be three this summer. She’s an elegant tuxedo with the most symmetric white mustache and the longest tail. Her hobbies include belly rubs, spooning, and hiding from little brother. She is the sweetest cuddle cat. She never gets into trouble or does anything wrong. And then there’s our baby, Maxwell. This past November I saw his picture online and just knew I had to have him. He’s a black/white mask and mantle kitty with the most stunning face. The black wraps around his white face like a big grin. There was something about his face that I just had to have. I thought to myself if I can’t have a human baby, then I could have this baby kitty. A few days later, I volunteered at an adoption outing with our local SPCA. I kept watching him the whole time. He was too funny. I am shocked no one adopted him that day. After sending multiple pictures and text messages and talking about him constantly, my husband finally gave in to my heart’s desire about a week later. I never thought we would have three cats. I never even really thought we would have two cats. Now here we are with a crazy cat lady starter pack. He was a wild and rambunctious four pound kitty. He climbed the curtains, ran around the house like he was in a NASCAR race, and terrorized his new sisters. Now he is almost 11 months old. Still wild, but a little calmer and around 15 pounds. I have never seen any cat love toys like this one. He has one special toy that is his clear favorite (aside from a fresh, new Q-tips). He always carries it around the house and even brings it to bed to sleep with it every night. Since we’ve started fertility treatments Maxwell has been so sweet. Every time I come home from the doctor’s office he Velcros himself to me. If I start to spontaneously cry he always runs to me and cuddles very close to my side, refusing to leave. Yesterday, was exceptionally bad for some reason. I couldn’t stop thinking about being pregnant or not being pregnant. I decided I would force myself to take a nap to make the day go by faster. I went to bed and River wanted to cuddle. Maxwell was on my feet. River decided to leave and Maxwell went down the stairs. He quickly returned with his favorite toy and laid it by my side and then returned to my feet. I swear he thought his toy would cheer me up. So I cuddled with his toy and took an almost 3 hour nap until my husband came home. Maxwell never left the bed until he heard my husband’s car in the driveway. Last night, I could not sleep. Turns out a 3 hour nap in the evening is not a good way to make the day pass faster. Momo even decided to get into to bed to let me pet her. Maxwell of course, was on my feet. Momo eventually left, but Maxwell stayed. I tossed and turned and tossed and turned. Maxwell never moved. I even got out of bed once to use the bathroom. Maxwell was still there when I returned. He would occasionally resituate himself, but he never left. Even now as I type, Maxwell is by my side with his front paws resting on my leg. I think as you get older, but especially in times of crises, you find the little things in life really are the big things. I’m not sure what I believe in anymore but, I do know that Maxwell was truly meant to be in our lives. I’m so glad we found him because I don’t know how I would get through this time in my life without him. As Charles Dickens once wrote, “What greater gift than the love of a cat.” 7/15/2016 0 Comments Virginia is for (fertile) LoversThis morning I had my ovary check. I went in for my sonogram and there was a resident doctor. I’m pretty sure I was her first because she seemed totally clueless as to what she was doing and, well, let’s just say she didn’t have a gentle hand. Supposedly my ovaries are cyst free and look great. Although if they tell us something different next time I wouldn’t be totally shocked. Next stop blood work.
These poor nurses. Bless their hearts. I do not have great veins, but I have never had the trouble of getting blood work like I do with these two nurses. It was the same pair that struggled to get my blood for an hour at my first appointment. The first nurse poked and prodded in one arm. She couldn’t get any blood at all. So she resigned and decided to get the other nurse. Again, poking and prodding. I’m really not bad with needles at all (thank goodness). She then used a sharpie to make two dots on my arm so she didn’t miss the vein (seems like a rookie movie to me). She finally hit the vein. Blood started coming out. I suddenly became very sick. “Oh no,” I thought to myself. I will not pass out before the vial is full. I kept watching the blood slowly ooze out into the vial. My head got swimmy. My ears were ringing. I chanted to myself, “I will not pass out” over and over. I was afraid to say anything because I didn’t want her to stop. FINALLY. The vial was full. She looked at me and I mustered out “my ears are ringing.” She hurried up and helped me from the chair to a table and got a wet, cold washcloth for my head. The whole blood drawing/passing out process took about 25 minutes (literally, not exaggerating). So naturally the doctor was now with another patient so I had to wait forever to see the doctor. I spent approximately 45 seconds with the doctor and the resident. They told me my ovaries looked great and were cyst free and they will post my progesterone results to my patient portal when they are available. They told me if my progesterone is lower than expected they’ll give me a higher dose of Clomid next month. I’m glad they seem positive that this has worked. Then it was time to pay. I was still woozy and not feeling great. My IUI was on a Saturday so I still had to pay for that. Long before we had the IUI I called to specifically ask how much the IUI would cost. Apparently I was not specific enough with this question. I would imagine if someone is asking how much this costs they want to know ALL of the fees affiliated with having this procedure. Silly me. Apparently you need to ask how much each individual service costs. Originally, I was told it would cost $373. Turns out it actually costs $546. Fabulous. I was too sick and tired to ask what the cost difference was. I have literally lost count of how much money we’ve given them. I’m thinking we are nearing the $3,000 mark at this point. I’m sure we will get some more bills for the blood work too. Add all of the acupuncture I’ve been doing on top of that and I just can’t even think about it. It turns out that Virginia is not for lovers. I don’t understand why Virginia refuses to include fertility treatments under health insurance. It's so tempting to move to another state. On the way home I had to choke back tears. I try to remain strong but some days are just too hard. It’s hard not to feel violated and broken. My nether regions feel violated, my veins felt violated, and my bank account feels totally raped. I’m so thankful to have friends who understand this draining process because being able to debrief with friends in these moments is the only thing keeping me sane some days. I’m about half way through my two week wait now. My original euphoria has certainly worn down. I think I’m heading to the downward spiral of despair. I’m trying to remain positive, but I also have to be realistic that this may not work. I'll have to hold on to what little hope is left over the next 8 days. I’ve been binge watching Criminal Minds like there’s nothing else on TV. This quote is really ringing with me right now: "Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside of us while we live." -- Norman Cousins 7/9/2016 2 Comments IUI DayLast night I was tired I don’t even remember falling asleep. I didn’t even plug my phone in to charge. I woke up at 4:30 because I had to pee so badly. I saw it was 4:30 and was afraid that was too early to do an ovulation test. So, I laid in the bed trying to make time pass. I must’ve fallen asleep again at some point because the cats started their normal wrestling routine at 6:30. I woke up and immediately did my OPKs (yes..plural…I wanted to be safe). The digital ones take 5 MINUTES so I did a cheapo test while the other one “cooked” since they only take three minutes. When I saw the cheapo test was clearly positive I tried very hard not to get too excited. When the solid smiley face popped up on the Clear Blue Digital I yelled out loud, “It’s positive.” My husband clearly didn’t hear me because I had to wake him up.
The doctor’s office doesn’t open until 8:00am so I figured I would make breakfast while I passed the time. Suddenly, something hit me and made me check the paperwork since it’s a Saturday. If you have a positive OPK on the weekend you have to call the service desk between 7:00 and 8:00am in order to get an appointment that day. Holy poo!! I almost missed my window. It was 7:12 when I called the service desk. She said the doctor would call within 30 minutes with my appointment time. When he FINALLY called (after 15 minutes) he said my appointment time would be 9:30. He explained how to get into the hospital because it’s a weekend and told me that my husband would go to the lab to leave his sample and then the “washing” process would take about 45 minutes to an hour. Then we would have our IUI. I woke up my husband and we had breakfast, got ready, and made our way to the reproductive clinic. When we got to the hospital we had to scroll through a list of extensions on a callbox outside of the hospital door and page the reproductive office. I felt a little like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. When the lady was paged and asked us what our business was I really wanted to answer, “I’m here to see the man behind the curtain.” I was afraid she wouldn’t let us in, so I gave the sane response of, “We are here for our IUI.” She let us in. We got there early and Matt left his deposit (I’m shocked and so happy how he’s been through all of this). I didn’t really know where I was supposed to go so I awkwardly lingered in the hallway since there was no designated waiting area. I didn’t realize the waiting room was open for us to wait. Afterwards we decided to go get coffee to kill time. However, by the time we got to the car we realized neither one of us really wanted coffee. Matt felt hungry even though we had just eaten so we went to Chic-Fil-a. I was secretly worried we would be late. Except… I was panicking so it wasn’t really a secret. We made our way back to the reproductive center we had to be paged back in. When we got back to the waiting room I was shocked at the number of women there. There were hardly any seats left. Then we were left waiting… We waited forever. I maybe (definitely) started panicking. I must’ve asked Matt a hundred times if he thought we missed our appointment. Then a lady poked her head out of the door and asked, “Did you get yours yet?” She hardly asked the question before I responded, “No.” Then I realized I had no idea what she was talking about. So then I was left panicked and driving Matt crazy because I felt like I answered her question wrong. I thought for sure I was not going to get to have this appointment. (I’m going to go ahead and blame this on the Clomid). FINALLY the lab lady came by and told us to come back and pick up our “deposit.” So that’s what the other lady was asking about… Oh yes… The sperm would be pertinent to this appointment… The doctor went over our numbers: Sixty-one million sperm after the “washing.” From my extensive research online I knew this was an excellent number. The doctor explained the motility was also excellent and gave my husband a fist bump. Dear doctor, please don’t ever do this again. I already feel like this is my fault. I can do without the “bro time” of celebrating my husband’s awesome sperm. But I am glad the numbers were so high. So, full disclosure. The IUI was not bad at all. There was no pain whatsoever except I wasn’t allowed to pee beforehand. Having a full bladder makes it easier to put the catheter in. I must say I was expecting something that looked more like a turkey baster. The doctor referred to it as a “wet noodle” and I found that to be quite accurate. Is it just me or does it seem like the nurses always awkwardly linger behind the doctor with a sideways glance? I wish they would either be more direct when looking at the “procedures” or stand far away… Afterwards, I laid on the table for 15-20 minutes until the nurse came back to let us know we could leave. After we left, we went out to grab lunch. For those of you who are counting, my husband had breakfast, second breakfast, and elevensies. He’s clearly channeling his inner hobbit. I have been feeling exceptionally bloated which has actually made it quite difficult to eat. I literally want nothing else in my belly (except a lovely little blastocyst). I am not joking when I say I am so bloated I look like I’m 9 months pregnant. I have decided that I may go ahead and buy some maternity pants. I currently have no pants that fit (even my mesh shorts are uncomfortably tight) and even if this IUI doesn’t work, I’m going to have to endure this procedure again. It would be nice to have pants that fit. So here we are in the worst and longest two week wait ever. If only I could just sleep until it’s over. I’m really glad I have LOTS of meetings this week. Hopefully it will keep me busy. I go in for some blood work on Friday or Monday depending on when I can get an appointment. I really, really hope this works. I am throwing caution to the wind and allowing myself to be optimistic and hopeful. I have been so overwhelmed with how many people follow my blog and how much support I received today. One of my friends said our future baby is so lucky because it has already had so many prayers and thoughts already. I never thought about it that way. I really want to thank everyone for all of the support. We really appreciate it. So keep praying, sending good vibes, lighting candles, or whatever you do. We will keep appreciating them. 7/8/2016 2 Comments Dog Days of SummerIt has been a long 9 day since my last post. I saw a meme once that said the two week wait must be in dog years. I think this whole process must be in dog years. Each week feels longer than the last.
Clomid symptoms are not for the weak. I feel like I generally have a high pain tolerance so either this stuff really sucks or I am gradually becoming a weaker person. The side effects seemed to come all at once. Everything felt manageable and then: BAM. Barely keeping it together over here. The bloating and cramping is definitely the worst. I would say the pain from the cramping is on par with a kidney stone. The bloating is so bad I’m 5 pounds heavier and I can only button two pairs of pants. I’ve been having horrible night sweats and two sudden onset hot flashes. Getting a sneak preview of menopause is not a positive experience. I’ve also had chest pains that basically feels like there is a rock in my chest. One day I had two giant handfuls of hair fall out. I’m hoping that doesn’t happen again. The fatigue is unbelievable. I think I literally fell asleep while I was talking last night and slept for hours. But then, I had horrible insomnia and couldn’t fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning. The mood swings are everything I heard they would be. It’s weird when you suddenly become enraged or weepy over really stupid little things. You can see yourself acting a fool. You know you’re being ridiculous. Yet, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Although puffy face is not on the laundry list of side effects I do feel like my face is much fatter than normal. Last night I asked my husband if he thought it looked puffy. He replied (very quickly), “Nope.” So then I asked if he would tell me even if he thought it did and he again replied quickly, “Not while you’re on Clomid.” I’m glad he can still make me laugh even when I’m weepy. I’m also glad he’s brave enough to tempt fate and try to make me laugh. A few days ago I found out my car needed almost $1900 worth of repairs. If I were the religious type, I would really be starting to think that God was trying to send me some signals that I should not have children. It’s really hard to not have those thoughts some days. This past weekend I attended a 10 year reunion to celebrate the first year I worked on a summer camp staff. Our staff created a time capsule in 2006 and vowed to return together to open it in 10 years. It was really cool reminiscing and realizing how far I’ve come in just 10 years. I say “just” because it has gone by so fast. It’s so easy to lose sight of who you are and what you’ve accomplished on this journey. Ten years ago I would never have guessed I would be married to a loving husband, be a home owner, and have a full-fledged career in the locality of my choosing. I have the cutest Mini Cooper (although Agent Cooper and I did have a stumbling block in our relationship this week). Although the recent very expensive repairs sucked I didn’t have to declare bankruptcy after paying for it to be fixed. I have taken many trips overseas and visited many different states. I also have the three best cats I could’ve ever found. I have incredible co-workers and a fantastic hair dresser. I have the best and most supportive friends and family someone could ask for. I also forget how lucky I am to live just down the road from a fertility clinic. Some people live hours away and have to take significant time off work in order to get the treatments they need. Some people could never even consider affording these treatments. Yesterday when I was thinking of all the things I had to be thankful for I felt a little bit like Ariel: “Look at this stuff. Isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?” I have so much to be thankful for and yet I still pine for a little one. We are hopeful to have our IUI (aka turkey baster treatment) soon. I was really hoping I would ovulate on Saturday or Sunday. My OPKs (ovulation predictor kits) still say low fertility. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t getting a little paranoid that I’m not going to ovulate. I know the medicine can delay ovulation. Or at least that’s what I keep saying to myself over and over. I know the odds are not forever in our favor with this treatment, but I REALLY need this to work. I found a Jane Austen quote that I really love: “I am half agony, half hope.” I can’t think of a more poignant, succinct way to describe infertility. If I could conceive a baby on despair and sarcasm I would surely half a baker’s dozen already. Until then, I will keep my fingers (and toes) crossed hoping for the smiley face that indicates we can move on to the next step. |
Heather Joyce
Trying to conceive. Archives
April 2018
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