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?

all-you-can-eat buffet September 30, 2008

   There’s a certain art form in the all you can eat buffet.  Whether it’s Chinese or all-American, the objective is the same: load as much as you can on one plate the first trip through; pot stickers on top of rice on top of General Tso’s, next to teriyaki chicken and chicken fingers and spicy broccoli.  Forget the fact that you can go back up as many times as you want; that first plate is the most important, a source of pride.

   I’m used to carrying around a relatively small plate.  Chicken fingers and pot stickers, max.  However, recently I’ve been expected to also pile some fried rice on to that plate.  Luckily, rice is small and can filter down into all the nooks and crannies between the chicken.  But when I was asked to include some sushi, it went rolling all over and on to the floor, a huge mess.  Luckily someone also then handed me a bigger plate.  This one’s the size of a turkey platter and it can hold a lot, but it gets awful heavy.  And I know that someday, it will be too full and someone will break out the pizza pan-sized plate and expect me to be able to handle it.  I just have to hope that someone else will be there to help me carry it.

 

   Okay, so I’ve probably taken that metaphor as far as it will go.  My point is this: I have a lot on my mental/emotional plate right now.  The everyday, not-so-stressful stresses like marriage, family, and work have been expanded upon.  Marriage now includes not just trying to get pregnant, but infertility.  Family includes a grandmother with advanced metastatic cancer.  And work includes a handful of people who think I don’t know how to do my job.  Luckily I have a husband who is supportive and willing to do what he can to help carry the load.  Sometimes I just wish he (or anyone!) would carry all of it, which I realize is completely unfair, because he has is own load to carry.

 

   Tomorrow I have an appointment with my RE, a follow-up to see how I’m responding to the Metformin.  I have a list of questions as long as my arm about what the next steps will be, and I’m actually pretty anxious about the whole thing.  It doesn’t seem that I’m ovulating on Met, and I’m afraid she’ll want to wait another 3 months or so before taking the next step (Clomid).  I’m hoping she’ll at least give me some Provera so I can start a fresh cycle, as I’m currently on day 49.

   Tomorrow is also my grandmother’s appointment with her team of doctors.  The oncologists and brain surgeons will tell her exactly what she has and give her treatment options, if there are any.  I’d say 80% of my current stress is about that.  I just don’t know what we’ll do if there are no treatment options.

   So today when my coworker decided to have an attitude with me, I lost my shit.  Now we’re both just plugging away, trying to avoid confrontation as much as possible.  Sometimes you just need to have some time to yourself (even if it’s only so you don’t kill someone).

Wait…wait…wait…okay GO! Nah, I don’t feel like it. September 17, 2008

   Sometimes I have no patience.  Other times, what appears to be patience is actually indifference.  I’ve spent years of my life pining away for a child.  When I was 11, I started making lists of baby names that I liked.  When I was 17 and my period was late, I took not one, but 3 pregnancy tests, and when my period came (only) 4 days late, I was a little sad.  What I now know to be PCOS has caused my period to be late or non-existent many, many times over.  I couldn’t tell you how many sticks I’ve peed on over the years, anxious and unsure whether I wanted it to be positive or negative.

   However, now that we’re actually trying and I’m on day 36 of my cycle, I haven’t so much as glanced at the drawer full of tests.  I’m thinking maybe I’ll take one tomorrow, but I highly doubt it will be positive and don’t really want to waste a test or my energy hoping.  I’m still not even sure I ovulated, either 18 days ago like originally thought, or any time after that.  I feel the changes in my body from the metformin, but I’m not sure if it’s enough.  I’m thinking I might need to add some therapies, such as cinnamon or Vitex.  My next appointment with my RE is the 1^st of October, so I’m hoping either my body does something by then, or she’ll up my dose of the Met to 2000mg.  And maybe give me some Clomid.

   About the clomid, actually.  I’m so hesitant on it.  My mom tried it for awhile when I was a kid, and apparently it turned her into a complete nutcase, so she quit trying.  I’m also pretty afraid of multiples.  Not that I don’t secretly want twins, I think a lot of women do.  But we could not afford to have twins (or more!) right now, among other reasons.  On the other hand, I want to be pregnant, like, months ago.  At this point I’m willing to do (almost) anything to get pregnant.  So I just don’t know!

   Also, I’m worried that she won’t give me anything extra until I get my weight down some more.  I just can’t do it!  It’s like, impossible for me to lose weight.

   Oh, and another fear!  What if it doesn’t work?  What if she ups my metformin, and gives me clomid, and I lose weight, and I still can’t get pregnant (or even ovulate!)?  I’m so afraid of moving on to that next level of infertility, and I just don’t want to do it.  I’ve seen people go through it, and it’s not pretty.  Never mind the emotional effects; we couldn’t afford to move on to other options.  Our healthcare doesn’t cover anything (not even fertility testing!), and our savings are meager.  We would be stuck in this void of not really trying, but not-not trying, working overtime and second jobs to scrimp pennies so that some day, when we’re, like, 40, we could afford a one-shot go at either IVF or adoption.

   I now find myself a bit ambivalent about the whole thing.  I haven’t been great about temping lately, or checking my crotch every time I pee.  I guess I know that I can’t get myself worked up about it too much, for fear that I will only be let down.  I guess I’ve been NOT trying for so long, it seems really bizarre to me to actually be trying.  I feel like I’m in an alternate universe.

   And yet, I have little thoughts out of nowhere sometimes.  Like this morning, I was letting my coworker know that I’d be taking a day in November off for my little brother’s college graduation, and in the back of my head I thought, I could be pregnant by then.  Then I was like, what the hell was that?  Why does my brain play tricks on me like that?

And the winner is… July 8, 2008

   Last Tuesday I had an appointment with my doctor to go over my bloodwork results.  The progesterone levels indicated that I hadn’t ovulated, and were actually a little low even for that.  She said I might need to supplement with progesterone when I do get pregnant.

   Almost everything else was okay, including my cholesterol, prolactin, and thyroid levels.  What wasn’t okay was my insulin.  I was showing as slightly insulin-resistant, which is a big marker for PCOS.  And while she never used the term PCOS herself, she didn’t disagree with me when I brought it up, and said she wanted to start me on metformin because most women get pregnant within a couple months of starting it, and refer me to a RE.  When I told her that we weren’t technically TTC until September, she changed her mind.  Instead, she referred me straight to a RE at the big hospital.  That appointment is now scheduled for 2 weeks from today.

   The receptionist at the RE’s office was confused as to why I was coming in, so I had to explain everything to her, even though I was at work.  I thought my doctor’s office was supposed to include that information in the referral paperwork?

   So now I have the appointment to look forward to, and don’t have much idea what to expect.  Maybe an ultrasound?  Probably a metformin prescription?

   The reason it took me so long to post was that I was trying to process this information.  I’ve suspected PCOS for about a year now (which was why I went off the Pill so early before TCC), but it’s different to pretty much know that’s what’s wrong with me.  I’ve been pretty touchy this whole week, falling to tears with barely a nudge.  My mom has been too.  She said she just wishes that I didn’t have to go through this.  She did, and it sucked, and even though it’s come a long way since then, it’s still not good.

   I sat down with Paul and explained the situation.  His first comment was “how can the ovaries cause all that damage?”  I explained that the ovaries were really just a side-effect, and gave him definitions on insulin-resistance, diabetes, etc, and told him about metformin and Clomid and such.  He seemed to understand, but I know he doesn’t understand the seriousness of it, although he did ask about long-term effects (diabetes, heart disease, high cholesterol, cancer), so that was nice of him.  I’m pretty sure he still thinks getting pregnant will be as easy as unprotected sex at the right moment.  And it could be.  The problem is getting that right moment, because I’m not ovulating.