October 5th, 2009
About a month ago, there was a span of time of three weeks or so that I thought I was 33. Alas, I am 32. When I had that revelation that I was actually younger than I had been thinking…what a nice surprise! Of course, none of this really means anything as far as the stockpile of eggs in my diminishing reserve…but it was nice to remember that I’m not completely ancient. I still have a small chance of being “with child” before I turn 33 next summer. And really, all I want is one more. Just one. Just one more little face to kiss and diapers to change and a little guy to watch grow from a newborn to…a not-so-newborn. I am sure if that dream ever comes true, I may still try again. But really, I know right now I could live a happy life with two children. Not the three of four I have always dreamed of before IF became a part of my life, but two. A brother for P. I’d even take a sister for him…even though I am terrified of the thought of raising a girl in this day and age.
Last week I decided to throw myself full force back into “trying again mode.” Which means pulling out all my old “fertility-relevant” books–and I even bought a few more. One I know I read back when I was trying to conceive my first, one about Chinese medicine and its role, and a new one that is supposed to be the “ultimate” when it comes to getting a woman in top-form to conceive in just three months. (sidebar: it gives a lot of information anyone who already knows they have two ovaries and a utes is already aware of…and I haven’t really read it cover to cover yet–but I hope it gives some new-ish insight for me). Because this is how I do things: I chuck myself full-force into absorbing all I can about infertility and reading others’ successes. I have even started shelling out four bucks a few days a week for fresh-squeezed wheatgrass, instead of defrosting the cubes in my freezer. I will say it tastes COMPLETELY different–so maybe my FSH will be nice and low-ish in ten days when I go for my baseline. I admit that I am not willing to go completely organic, or rid my life of some coffee and dairy and chocolate…but I think swigging some warm green goop is pretty good. One place offers a nice orange slice as a chaser–if I close my eyes, it’s just like a shot of tequila back in the dorms of college. (riggggghhhhht….)
Time will tell if my non-running/fresh wheatgrass chugging/excessive IF reading/DHEA supplementing will have any affect on this cycle. Pleaseohpleaseohplease…
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October 1st, 2009
Let’s start out with the most obvious: Holy heck! It is October already. How.did.this.happen?? I remember the middle of summer quite clearly. And now. I am twenty-three days (22?) away from being the mother of a two year old. These years have gone so quickly (though sometimes the days themselves have dragged)…and I’m not any closer to expanding my family. That’s the thing with infertility–you don’t get “closer”. There is no “almost” or “kinda”. You’re either pregnant, or you’re not.
Moving on. Last night was Therapy Night Numero Uno. I was not nervous (the last time I was in therapy it was CLEAR there was something broken in me that needed to be repaired, and it was a hard and scary thing to try and face. Here, I know I am not unrepairable, and I just needed some help coping–not help overhauling my entire life.) The new doctor was sweet, knowledgeable, and gave me some easy things I could do and say practically immediately upon returning home–that would start to change the way IF affects my relationship with T. (There were other points that we discussed that don’t relate directly to this issue, so I’ve left them out. But she was spot-on with those, too).
- Say to my husband, I promise you, that when this is resolved, I will be back to being (as) normal as I once was. This is a temporary situation in the long run.
- Say to my husband, I am just like every other woman in this situation. I do feel the hurt 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It doesn’t make me SAD all the time, but there ALWAYS is a sadNESS.
- (I feel the same way about statistics as I do about cliches, but she kept emphasizing this): Studies have been done that prove that after failed IVF cycles, a woman’s state of mind and overall emotional condition mirrors women who have been diagnosed with terminal cancers. The depression, the anger, the desperation…they have been proven to be one and the same. Interesting.
- A man will never truly understand what infertility feels like to a woman–but the best way to think of it, is if a man lost his job. And was unemployed for some time. (While this seems so trivial compared to infertility, I can see the connection–even in this “modern time”, men are drawn to be providers and women to be caretakers/mothers.)
- Ask RE point-blank what my ”exercise allowance” should be per day during a cycle (this was my idea). I use exercise as a release for many things, and while I have certainly reigned in my working out, I don’t know where it falls on the Optimal for Fertility spectrum. And RE has always spoken in vague, general terms when I ask about exercising–now I need to nail him down to an answer. So I know I am doing what is right for my body, my mind, my utes and my ovaries.
She told me I am clearly not depressed (not news to me), and she diagnosed me as suffering through a ”life crisis”. And truly, I guess that is what it is. It has dragged on for me over this/these past year(s)–and it will drag on until there is resolution (I don’t know yet how I feel about the use of that word). Anyone who has done invitro multiple times, and has failed multiple times, knows that it truly DOES become an all-consuming crisis. We don’t want to give up–because what if the next one is the one that does it? (it becomes as risky and addictive as gambling, I imagine. Ironic, because I HATE gambling. I’d rather spend the money on a new book or my trillionth pair of black stretch pants). I am lucky enough to have at least one more cycle covered by insurance, and even after that I know we would find a way for one or two more. But then…? Well, she told me I don’t have to think that far ahead yet.
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