BTV November 13, 2008

   This is a 10 day sample of what it’s like to live in my head.

   If my brain were a TV channel, it would be BTV: All Babies, All The Time.  Between episodes of Deliver Me, A Baby Story, and Jon and Kate, we have infomercials for kitchen products and money-making schemes.  We also occasionally have an episode of Glenn Beck or Anderson Cooper, just to keep in touch with the “real” world.  We have commercials for Pampers, Baby Einstein, and Fisher-Price, as well as those drugs that are supposed to help dampen chemo symptoms.  Those “The More You Know” commercials feature advice such as “raise your hips after sex” and “dollar store HPTs are often more sensitive than digital.”  We show the same after-school movie every day, and it’s always “15 and Pregnant.”  If you’re up peeing on a stick at 4 in the morning just to capture that precious FMU, you might be lucky enough to catch an airing of “Juno” or “Knocked Up.”  There are Weight Watchers commercials and episodes of Lost and Family Guy and Six Feet Under (usually the one where the baby dies of SIDS).  And around dinner time every day there are episodes of America’s Test Kitchen and Good Eats, followed by that mystery diagnosis show, that crazy Duggar family, and Nanny 911.  It’s a nice channel to watch.  There are a lot of laughs, some good food, and a reason to cry at least once a day.

Cross Your Toes November 12, 2008

Today is my grandmother’s first chemo appointment.  She’s hopelessly scared.  She had a double-port put in last Thursday, and will be getting two different drugs today.  Hair loss is inevitable, and mouth sores and extreme nausea/vomiting are most likely.  At this point her only thought is to be well enough on Friday to go to my brother’s tech school graduation, but I’m really not sure that will be possible because it requires a 3 hour car ride each way.  But we’ll wait and see, all with our fingers crossed.

Just Call Me Myrtle November 12, 2008

I lost my shit last night.  The panic attacks are becoming more frequent.  I snapped at Paul, he snapped back, and we each retreated into our corners to work it out by ourselves.  He slammed around the kitchen and yelled at the cats for being under foot, and I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed until I was hyperventilating.  After about 10 minutes, I was feeling a little better, so I washed my face with cold water, came out of the bathroom, and we both acted like nothing happened.  I have to say, if Paul’s learned anything, it’s not to ask me what’s wrong when I’m that fragile.  It will only make me blubber on his shoulder for hours and ultimately feel worse.  On the other hand, a hug would have been nice.

The Crazy is Creeping In November 11, 2008

   For 10 months now I’ve been taking my temperature every morning upon waking.  It doesn’t get old.  In fact, it helps me wake up in the morning.  In talking to a coworker about it earlier today, she told me that when she was TTC, she only got through about a month and a half before giving up out of annoyance and boredom.  I can’t help but wonder if that’s what contributed to it taking her 3+ years to conceive despite everything being in seemingly perfect health.

   I keep my thermometer in a mug on my nightstand.  Also in this mug is loose change, nail clippers, a few gum wrappers, and some earplugs.  My alarm goes off and instead of reaching for the snooze button I reach for the thermometer.  I never have a problem remembering it so I can later (once at work) enter it into the myriad of different programs and websites I use to keep track of all things cycle-related.

   I’m currently on cycle day 31, and a full 22 days past what looks like ovulation.  However, despite whatever “symptoms” I might be having, every single stick I pee on is negative.  All seven of them, of differing varieties.  I guess my current plan is to wait a few more days, and if there’s still nothing in the way of a positive test or a period or even a temp-drop, I’ll call my doctor and ask for a blood test.

   I’m having a difficult time even believing that my body has done something “normal.”  But it definitely looks like a clear thermal shift, and I have to hope my doctor (ob/gyn or RE, either one) would see the same thing.

   You know, I could keep taking my temp every day for the rest of my life and not be too bothered by it.  It’s the waiting between each temp-taking that’s annoying.  I obsess and over-analyze every little thing, then do myself no favors by looking stuff up online to fit my circumstances for exactly what I want to see.  Paul sees the tests piling up in the garbage and just says “nothing yet?” and gives me a hug.  He ignores my hours online pouring over pregnancy test photos and temp charts, and the stack of books on my side of the bed (“Taking Charge of Your Fertility,” “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” among others).  And although he’s a little worried he might get laid off, and the economy sucks, and it will be at least another year before we can buy a house, he hasn’t even started to say that maybe we should hold off trying right now.  And god do I love him for that.

   I’m starting to get antsy for results.  If it turns out that I haven’t actually ovulated, I want another provera prescription so I can start again.  And I’m thinking about making an appointment with my RE, not for PCOS maintenance like I’ve been going to her for, but for actual fertility treatment, if she’ll have me.  I’m worried that she’ll not want to treat me yet because we’ve technically only been trying for a couple months.  However, how can we even “try” when I’m not ovulating?  Part of me wants to march in there and demand Clomid or Femara so we can actually start trying.

   I need to lose weight.  I know that.  I know that it will help with so many things, not the least of which is my cycles.  But I just can’t seem to get off my ass and do it.  If there were any motivator that would actually work, I always thought this would be it.  Part of me has always thought that one of the reasons I hold on to my weight is because it protects me.  Maybe I’m holding on to my weight now because I’m scared to be a mother, and subconsciously not ready.  But that’s just crazy, because I know beyond a doubt that I’m ready.  So why won’t I put down the effing ice cream and get my ass off the couch?