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?

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?

All-Day Good-Time Pityfest, 1st annual August 20, 2008

   I’m feeling very sad today.  I cried on the way to work, and feel like crying now, although I’m at work so it’s not exactly practical.  I’m feeling frustrated and alone.  I don’t know where to go next.  What I thought was my period the other day was really just spotting for a couple days, and my temps are still up, and I get to stare at a fresh BFN every morning.  I don’t know if I ovulated two weeks ago or not.  Probably not.  We’re officially starting to try in a couple weeks, and I really wish I could just take some Provera and start a fresh cycle.  But I don’t have an another appointment with my RE for 6 weeks, and I don’t think my PCP will give me anything now that she’s passed me on to the RE.

I’m so ready for a baby, so ready to be pregnant, so ready to just try.  But how do I know when to try when I keep looking like I’m about to ovulate, then my temp goes up for a couple days so it looks like I did ovulate, but then my temps go back down?  Over and over again this happens.  Maybe we’ll set up a plan of sex every other or every third day, and not beat ourselves up if we skip a day here or there.  I figure if we can get into a groove like that, we’re covering the bases.  Assuming I will ever ovulate.

   And of course assuming we have no other problems.  I’m considering asking the RE when I go back in October if we should go ahead and have the other basic tests done (sperm analysis, HSG, etc) so we can get them out of the way, but she probably won’t yet because “we’re so young and have so much time.”  She’ll probably want me to be ovulating and us trying for at least 6 months before she requests those tests.

   And how long before she wants us to try Clomid?  Will she order the tests before prescribing Clomid?  When I saw her before, she made it sound like she’d start me on it as soon as I lost 5-10% of my weight.  But I’m not sure I want Clomid, mostly because of the risk of multiples.  I’d love it if we could do this on our own, with only the metformin.  It seems like Clomid is just thrown around all willy-nilly to anyone who’s having the slightest problem conceiving, like it’s an easy fix.  But I know how crazy my Mom got on Clomid, and I’m not sure my husband could handle me like that.

   The other issue is the weight.  I’ve always struggled with losing weight, but I thought that as soon as something was seriously threatened, such as my health or my fertility, I’d be able to get my ass in gear and lose the weight.  But I’m finding that’s not the case.  I’ve lost about 7 pounds since starting the metformin about a month ago, and I’m not really putting any effort into it.  I know that if I tried, even a little, I could lose more.  I’d love to lose at least 5% (17 pounds) by the time I go back to my RE, but I just can’t seem to get off the couch in the evenings to walk, or to give up the ice cream.

   So I’m sad, and frustrated, and confused.  I’m also lazy and impatient, but that’s nothing new.  I can’t wait until I can go home and get a big hug from Paul, and from the kittens.