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My bread is leavened–again.

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Another couple of months….another yeast infection. I had a meltdown in bed yesterday and broke down sobbing about it, mainly because I’m just so damn sick of my body and everything that seems to go wrong with it, but also because with the dry, itching, burning I was feeling, I knew that there was no way that I could remotely attempt to have sex in the next week if I didn’t do something about it quickly. I was worried that Diflucan isn’t safe to take while TTC, but after doing a bit of poking around on the internet, Hubs read on multiple sites that it leaves your system in 3-4 days, which is fine timing wise for us right now. So I popped yet another Diflucan this month, and this morning my symptoms have magically disappeared. I should be happy, right? The truth is, I’m just pissed. I’m pissed at the whole situation. My body feels like the rusted 1988 Toyota Carolla hatchback I drove in in high school that would only go 45mph up hills on the freeway, and whose transmission was so shot that the car jerked every time it changed gears. I remember driving home on the freeway one day, and just seeing all of these cars whizz past me…this is what it feels like to be left behind.

To add insult to injury, I spoke to my mom on the phone yesterday, and gave her an update on where I’m at with all of the fertility meds and stuff. I should preface this by saying that my mom’s remarks are never done to be malicious, spiteful, or know-it-all. She feels incredibly bad and anxious for Hubs and I, and is genuinely concerned with how I’m coping with this. The problem is, my mom is fertile. At 53 years old, she gets her period like clockwork every month, and it’s still as heavy and crampy as it was when she was 20. She tries to put herself into my shoes, but it’s an impossibility. When I was first trying to figure out my PCOS and any sort of natural remedies for it, her advice was to “relax and eat whatever I wanted. Gain some weight, and you will ovulate.” Thanks, mom, but I’m well within the normal weight range, and have 25% body fat. I’m not some gymnast or Olympic sprinter or something.

Last night, after telling her about my second round of Clomid, the HSG, and how stressful this whole thing was, she tried to be helpful by saying that I should try not to put a lot of pressure on having sex at all the right times. I should just “relax and have sex when I feel in the mood, and see what happens.”

Advice for the two fertile people who read my blog simply because they are riveted about my cervical mucus: This is not. I repeat. Not. The advice you want to give an infertile who has just finished 100mg of Clomid–or any person struggling with infertility, to be precise.

Needless to say, I unleashed.

Me: Have sex only when I’m in the mood??? In the mood? Gee! I didn’t think of that! Maybe then,  a magical mood baby will appear in my uterus.

Mom: Ummm…

Me: So you’re telling me that after pumping my body full of ovulation inducing chemicals, getting my uterus scraped, and doing everything I can to figure out when I can actually catch an egg, because FYI–there’s about a 36 hour window that this can happen, I should scrap all of that, and cross my fingers that these magical 36 hours my egg is viable match up with my mood?

Mom: Hmm. I guess that wasn’t a good idea….

Me: No. No, it wasn’t. I can’t expect you to understand about this. You didn’t even know what a two week wait was. (she didn’t, by the way. Did you know that many fertiles don’t know about the TWW? They just miss a period and then take a pregnancy test.)

Mom: I’m sorry. You’re right…that was a bad idea.

I know she’s sorry. I know she doesn’t know what the fuck to say to me that will make it better, and she’s grasping at straws here to try to connect with me, but it just makes me so damn sad. If she had one iota of a clue about how much I miss having sex with my husband when we’re relaxed and in the mood, she would never have said that. Hubs and I are struggling right now to keep that spark alive, but it’s so hard. He had to jizz in a cup in a cold jizz room at my RE’s office a couple of days ago to get his sperm checked. This is not the kind of association he wants to have with sex, but there it is, staring at him from the bottom of a plastic cup and a chair diaper (did you know they make the guys jerk off on a big chair diaper in case of spillage?) I miss my marriage the way it was, and I want it back. I want my sexy husband back, too.

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About Sunny

I'm a happily married, 31 year old gal who is just starting her journey to conceive. I also have ovaries that may need a jump start. This blog is an attempt to channel my obsessive research on my Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome into something positive....like a pregnancy test. That would be awesome. I also hope that other women with this condition will find support in this blog. There are a lot of us out here! Happy reading, whatever your journey may be.

17 responses »

  1. Agh, that’s so frustrating!! Unfortunately, the sting still hurts even when people don’t “intend” to be insensitive. Have you thought about sending your mom to one of those RESOLVE website resources for friends and family of infertiles? Here’s the link: http://www.resolve.org/support-and-services/for-family–friends/. It might help your mom, especially if she wants to be supportive and just doesn’t know how. People are so clueless!

    Reply
  2. No lie, this is the same exact way my day went yesterday, minus the yeast infection. I was so pissed at my body for both doing what it’s suppose to do and totally failing me at the same time. My mom even gave me the “just relax” speech too. I went off and told her that if it was merely about just relaxing then I would have 18 kids by now. It’s a tad bit more complicated than that, Mom!

    And the sex….oh the sex. We had to squeeze in TTC last night and when it was (quickly) over my husband literally said “I hate this.” I had another meltdown, but in the end I had to agree with him.

    All this to say, I TOTALLY get where you are right now. Unfortunately I have not an iota of advice to offer you. Just know that you aren’t alone in this. xoxo

    Reply
  3. Totally feel what you’re saying! The yeast and I are VERY close acquaintances, and I’ve always been convinced that those chronic infections are somehow related to my infertility, despite the fact that every shred of evidence says they’re not. But it does make you feel like your lady bits are all just a malfunctioning pile of crap.

    Also, that’s hilarious about the chair diaper — I can’t believe that! My hubby insists on “making his deposit” at home, forcing me to make a mad dash to the clinic with the cup tucked either in my armpit or my cleavage. He has a fear of the “production rooms”.

    Reply
    • Actually, as being a fellow yeast-er, I have done extensive research into the Candida issue, and there are studies that link infertility to yeast–especially PCOS. I keep telling myself I should go on the Candida diet (no sugar or refined carbs of any kind–not even fruit)…but it’s just too damn hard right now. And can I just say that you holding your husbands sperm cup in your cleavage is possibly the best thing I’ve heard all week? The things we do for love.

      Reply
      • Omg, the Candida diet… ugh, I seriously don’t know if I could handle it! Every time I look at the list of restrictions, I’m like, “BUT LIFE IS FOR LIVING!” Whatever that means. The other thing is, I asked my naturopath once about whether I should do the diet, and she said “not while you’re in fertility treatment” — it’s just too much change for the body to process. Soo.. yay, baguettes!

        I have found that taking a few drops of oregano oil each night helps a lot to keep the infections at bay. Maybe it’s a placebo effect, but I’ll take it. 🙂

  4. Oh the just relax speech! Gotta love it. So frustrating!

    Reply
  5. Moms really don’t get it sometimes. The “just relax” or “just take a vacation” is so hurtful because not only is it wrong but it implies that you are the one causing the infertility in some way when that is clearly not true. Very frustrating!

    Reply
  6. If it helps at all, I always got yeast infections on Clomid, even though I hadn’t had much trouble with them before. Every other cycle on the Clomid, like clockwork, yeast infection. It’s pretty common.

    Reply
  7. I can relate. My mom was very fertile- she got pregnant with my two sisters while using contraception! In the past, I’ve had trouble getting understanding from her, too. Initially, she was so clueless that she laughed and made an annoying remark about how I obviously didn’t get my fertility problems from her side of the family. (Oh, mom, are you going to be another one of those fertile braggarts? :)) Luckily, she has gotten so much better, but our initial conversations were so bad that I always wound up in tears afterward. You’re right that they are just trying to make us feel better, but they don’t truly understand.

    I am in the same place as far as missing my old, affectionate, fun relationship with my hubby. We were actually just talking about that last night. We’re glad that we’re on a treatment break for the next couple of months so that we can start taking care of us again. Infertility treatments are definitely stressful and full of pressure.

    OMG, the chair diaper cracks me up! I’m not sure our place had one. If not, how gross!

    Reply
  8. Regulated sex. So hot.

    I’m a yeast infection girl, too (hah, only on an IF blog would I say that). I couldn’t do the candida diet because I like eating food but I did cut out all alcohol and white carbs and that helped me. Yesterday I ate some jujubes and I swear my vagina started itching as a warning to stop…..

    My mother has been dead for over a decade but I can imagine she wouldn’t be particularly supportive of my IF issues considering conversations about sex I had with her in the past. “Lucky” for me I have my sister around. She gets pregnant with shocking regularity.

    Reply
  9. Ugh. My mom has said hurtful things too. I know she never meant them to be hurtful – only helpful – but it stung to know how much she just didn’t understand. I’m sorry that you had to have that conversation, and I hope you feel better soon!

    Reply
  10. i’m popping over from stupid stork….I have literally spent the last 12 hours or so reading your entire blog from the beginning….You have quite the gift when it comes to IF writing….I laughed and cried and let me tell you at 4AM, my coworkers were beginning to wonder if I was having some sort of bipolar breakdown. I didn’t comment on anything up to this post. I needed to drink it all in, get to know you…

    As someone who is coming of her latest failed cycle, cancelled actually, I just got the “all in god’s time” and “just relax, everything happens for a reason” speech from my mom. I’ve been at this for 5 1/2 years now. You would think the woman would get it by now, especially after IVF, right? They really do mean well…..

    I am actually jealous of you because you have a diagnosis. I know it sucks monkey balls, but there is a treatment out there that MIGHT help you. I’ve stumped not one, not two, but three different doctors….

    I’m looking forward to following along on your adventure…I’ve come to love and respect the honesty and candidness in which you share your life…Hope you don’t mind me jumping on board…hoping you feel better soon….

    Reply
    • Holy crap this was an amazing comment! Thanks for finding me, and welcome. I can imagine that stumping doctors has been extremely frustrating for you, and I admire your persistence to keep giving IF the middle finger. Looking forward to following along on your path as well.

      Reply
  11. Oh my, how I get this. PCOS sucks bad and it is not about waiting for the mood to strike to jump your hubby. Sure, the first few months are fun like that…but after starting drugs? Nope. Even after you do achieve a pregnancy, your sex life doesn’t return to normal because you are too afraid to do it.
    I think keeping this open exchange with you mom is very important. Educate her so she can have a slight chance at understanding and maybe she will find a way to put herself in your shoes. I wish you luck.

    Reply
  12. Pingback: The Clock at the First Station | Stalked by Storks

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