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Monthly Archives: January 2012

Winter Song

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Two of my favorite solo artists did a duet together a little while back, and today it came up randomly on my iPod and brought tears to my eyes. I’m feeling like a big emotional mess lately…praying it’s a sign my hormones are fighting to make a presence in my body again, but I’m also becoming more and more aware that depression is an issue for me, and has been my entire life. In typical depressed fashion, I fluctuate between apathy, lethargy, and bursting into tears at any given moment.

Anyhow–this song has melancholy all over it. I’ve never heard it as a song about infertility–until today–which gives you an idea into my state of mind.

I had a very vivid dream last night that I was holding a little newborn boy. I think the way the dream went, he was my mom’s child, but I was going to raise him. His head was so unstable I kept worrying that I would hold him wrong and hurt him. I remember feeling so much love for this little guy, and so eager to be a mom.

Well, that was a trip.

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As if my job somehow thought that my blogging about fertility needed to take a backseat to actually working, I was scheduled on a last minute 4 day trip to Toronto this week/weekend. I just returned, but holy SHIT the last 4 days were busy.

I left the 80 degree weather we’re having in LA right now to get plunged into 20 degree madness for a bit. Readers who actually experience winter and get sick of it, feel free to hurl stuff at me right now, because I found that I enjoyed the wintry Toronto weather and cold toes. Mind you, I am not going to bitch about the fact that I was sweating as I deplaned back in LA today and fumbled around for my sunglasses.

In a somewhat randomly annoying coincidence, I was asked by no fewer than 4 or 5 of my colleagues this trip when I was going to plan on having a baby. One was my boss who is a raging alcoholic and yet still easily managed to pump out two kids. One other woman started at 22, and has 4 kids now. I was able to laugh off the questions with them, and just shrug and say coyly, “I don’t know…” but it stung to be asked. WHY THE HELL DO PEOPLE ASK???

The final straw was when a male colleague of mine asked me about the kids thing (he has 3 kids. Each was conceived the first month they “tried”). We were waiting for a group to show up to dinner, and there was no one else around, so I thought I would try responding differently than my normal shrug and laugh off the question.  I don’t know if it was because I was fed up about being asked multiple times, or if I felt like I could trust him, but I said, “You know, my husband and I have been trying for 7 months, but unfortunately I’m not ovulating, and we’re having some problems.” My honesty stunned him a bit, I think, and I could see that he was embarrassed he’d even asked. His first response was, “Oh.” but then, he did something sort of surprising… he said something kind of oddly sweet (well, odd for him, because he can be a bit gruff sometimes). He said, “Well. I know you, and I know that you will make a great mom. I’m sorry that you’re going through this right now.” And that was it. I said, “Thanks. Frank.” and then we moved on to happier conversations. It wasn’t so bad.

Sometimes, I think that guys are more able to process things and move on–and for that, I’m very grateful that Frank didn’t start in on a whole fertility conversation with me.

But I still can’t help but wish that people who have never had to struggle with fertility could understand the level of complete insensitivity and obliviousness that comes across to an infertile when they ask us a “so, when are you going to pop out a kid” question. I know that it’s impossible for them to know what kind of struggle I’ve been going through, but do they SERIOUSLY not think that this is an issue people struggle with every day? Are they THAT ignorant? And most importantly, am I just encouraging their ignorance by smiling and shrugging vs addressing the issue truthfully? “I’ve been trying. For months. I don’t ovulate or get my period. Any questions I can answer for you about this?”

Forest, meet trees.

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Does anyone else feel like sometimes, when you’re so immersed in the nitty gritty of all of the science of TTC, you forget that the outcome of all of this is an actual human being? It’s hard for me to think beyond cysts, hormones, ovulation, Metformin pills, basal body temperature and sperm. It just dawned on me today that a baby comes out of this process. An actual human with legs and arms…in my stomach.

Not that I’m not excited by this thought….it’s just something that I sometimes forget about from time to time as I go through the constant obsessive thoughts about why my ovaries have decided not to ovulate. It’s as if by constantly looking at things under this microscopic lens, I loose sight of the bigger picture…I envy those mothers around me who never had to give conception a second thought. No worry or care entered their mind about the exact moment their egg was released and when they were timing intercourse.  Instead, they get to throw back a few drinks one night for some St. Patty’s Day party at a crappy dive bar, sloppily boink their husband (or boyfriend. Or fuck buddy. Or whatever) later that night, and a couple of months later realize that oops! They’re pregnant.

I feel so jealous that these women can see the forest, and don’t have to spend all day looking at a tree (or in my case, the vein of a leaf on one tree in a really really big forest). They see the baby–they don’t see the sperm and egg. I’m so tired of thinking about eggs and sperm…I want to think about fingers and toes, and really soft, sweet smelling baby hair. I want to think of my body not as a collection of ovaries, uterine lining, and fallopian tubes, but simply as the body of a mother. “Mother” is the sum of all of my parts…and that is who I want to be.

The picture above is an electron microscope image of a heliotrope leaf. If you’re anything like me, you’d swear it was sperm attacking an egg. We see what we want to see!

 

 

Please Bitch Slap Me Out Of My Self Pity

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I’ve been having one of those weeks. My sleep has been shit, my bladder feels like an angry toddler is punching it at all times, and I got a nasty cold from my husband a couple of days ago. My dad is coming to visit this weekend, which wouldn’t be bad if I’d had time to clean up the house and relax this week, but right now the thought of any visitor today feels overwhelming. Plus, I haven’t been sleeping more than a few hours a night due to some crap insomnia.

Not sure I’ve mentioned anything further since I was toying with “Operation Force Myself to Ovulate” options a few posts ago, but I decided to go with soy isoflavones. I took my last round of them yesterday. CD 3-4: 80mg, CD 5-6: 160mg, CD 7-8: 240mg. I think that’s all I’m going to attempt this cycle. We’ll see if the soy jump starts me. Maybe it’s my head space right now, but I really have low confidence that this will work.

Since my bladder has been aching and burning for over a week, the thought of having sex seems about as appealing as letting fire ants crawl up my nether regions–so I guess even if I do ovulate, actually doing the deed may not be easy. Hubs is clicking the “dislike” button on the bladder issues, as am I, but I think it’s mainly because he’s horny and just wants to have sex again, and my bladder has but the kaibosh on that for the time being.

I’ve been sent to Toronto next Wednesday to do a presentation, so if all goes according to Murphy’s Law, I will probably ovulate for the first time in months while I’m over there with nary a Husband sperm in sight.

Yes, I’m being totally negative this post, and probably deserve to be bitch slapped.

One Bladder Infection Up For Grabs!

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Love feeling like you have to piss 30 times a day? Love waking up in the middle of the night to piss and then feeling a distinct burn in your urethra that lasts for hours preventing further sleep? Can’t get enough of the acidic taste of straight cranberry juice? How about sitting on a jury panel during some of these symptoms?

I called my doctor’s office 3 or 4 days ago telling them that I was 99.999% certain I had an early stage bladder infection. He wouldn’t prescribe me medication until I gave a urine test, so I came in and peed in a cup. Today, lo and behold, he called me and told me I have 10,000 e-coli bacterium in my bladder. This may seem like a lot, but it’s actually on the very low end of the bladder infection spectrum (hence the reason I am able to type this entry and not doubled over in a pool of my own piss). To be fair to my doc about dragging me in for a test, I’m sort of like the “boy who cried bladder infection” as I’ve been “certain” I’ve had an infection before, only to be told that my bladder is just irritated.

This infection fortunately isn’t like some of the other ones I’ve had which are excruciating, and have me pissing blood. Strangely enough, I’ve been able to stave off using antibiotics by trying to keep myself hydrated and chugging cranberry, but I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last on this homeopathic path.

My husband sometimes chides me about my “high maintenance vag”, and I have always rolled my eyes at him, but after the last few days, I’m starting to believe him. Between my weird Provera spotting, frequent yeast infections, and now a bladder infection, I am starting to think I have the Paris Hilton of vaginas. Which would be great if I also had the Paris Hilton of bank accounts. Sigh.

Yoga Class #1: Putting on my Granny Panties

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I went into last night’s yoga class with high hopes which slowly dwindled as I saw the 65 and 70 year olds shuffling into my class. The yoga class I chose was “Restorative” which was described on the website as a way to “stretch and relax”…but I thought we’d, you know, actually be doing yoga?  Instead, for an hour and a half, we went through 4 “poses” (I use that term loosely).  We had support blocks and heavy padding so as not to “hurt our hips and joints” so the entire class felt like some long, boring, drawn out version of tying my shoe. Please see above mention of the 70 year olds in my class.

At the beginning of class, our yoga instructor asked if there were any injuries she should be aware of. A slew of hands went up about slipped discs, aches and pains. She added as a legal precaution, I’m sure, “Is there anyone here who is pregnant?” to which many of them chuckled as if that was the silliest question in the world–I would say 80-90% of the class was in menopause. Christ! What is it with me and menopause these days? I feel like it’s following me around like an incurable STD.

The entire class, my mind was on a spinning wheel as I thought about the $17 I had blown basically sitting with my legs up a wall and lying flat on my back motionless with 70 year olds.  The teacher barely led the class (she was probably as bored to tears as I was), so things were eerily quiet during all of the extended pose/stretch holding. Jesus, Lady. You could have at least done some guided meditation or something.

Someone farted silently but deadly during meditation.

So no…I will not be returning to Yoga Blend’s Restorative Yoga class any time soon. On to the next! Stay tuned.

 

 

 

Baby Steps

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I just purchased my soy isoflavones today. Hooray! I’m treating today like my CD3 (since I have no uterine lining to speak of, anyway), and I’m going to take the soy from CD3-10. Some people do CD3-7, but I may give myself a bit more time this round to get everything kicked in. I’m starting off with a slow ramp up: 80mg my first two days, 160mg for 3 days, 240mg for 3 days. I’m hoping that something happens in the ovulation department…

I’ve also signed up for a yoga class later today. I’ve found 4 different studios that have all received high marks, and the aim is to try a different one every Sunday until I settle on the one I like the best.

Today’s studio is Yoga Blend. Seems cozy and small, and the teacher tonight seems kind of ethereal and natural, which I’m into. Some women don’t like all of the moon-child, daughter of the Earth shit they sometimes do in yoga, but I have to admit I am kind of  sucker for that stuff sometimes.

I hope these baby steps help me get a baby. I guess I can only do so much, but it feels good to try something. Anything.

Wake up little ovaries. You’ve been hung over long enough.

And now, for a “baby steps” quote from one of my favorite Bill Murray movies ever!