Hey there, cyber friends! Long time, no write. Many of you know that I am a teacher, and I have been swept away in the back to school tidal wave! So long, summer, I’m gonna miss you. Sniff, sniff.
Anyway, last Friday was somewhat of a monumental day in our fertility adventure. I had a hysterosalpingogram (HSG)—a procedure where they shoot dye into the fallopian tubes to check the pipes and make sure everything is working properly. My gyno and two radiologists performed the HSG at the hospital.
Prior to the procedure, my gyno (bless her heart) prescribed me one valium and Motrin. She called me and messaged me three times reminding me to take it, which, honestly, had me a little scared that it was going to be super painful. Eric had to drive me, since I was a little tipsy and goofy from the valium.
When we arrived, I changed into the uber-fashionable hospital gown (ties in the front) and positioned myself on the table. Eric stayed to witness the torture, because I wanted him to remind me what the results were in case I was too loopy to remember later.
At first the procedure was similar to a pap smear, forceps, prodding, swabbing, etc. Then the doctor inserted a catheter and we had to wait a minute or two for the radiologists to arrive. It was pretty uncomfortable (though not unbearable), so I was hoping they weren’t on a coffee or smoke break. Soon they arrived dressed in chic protective vests (zebra striped and sparkly disco material), positioned the x-ray machine over my lower mid section, and my doctor began to insert the dye.
That was the most painful part, but it basically felt like extreme pressure. On the monitor we could see my uterus fill up with the dye, then the left fallopian tube and finally the right. I’m glad to report that everything was in working order! Eric told me later that they said that was one of the quickest HSGs they had done.
And viola! HSG complete.
The doctor said I might have pain and should avoid nookie for about two days. I had a teeny bit of spotting that day, but absolutely no pain! In fact, I felt great and got some special treatment from Eric, as he was a little traumatized by the poking and prodding he had witnessed!
So, the mystery remains unanswered and the waiting resumes.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Believe It Or Not
This past weekend Eric and I ventured off to the mullet capitol of the South-- Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It’s a small town in the Smoky Mountains packed with family fun and adventure (my grandpa deemed it a “tourist trap”). Opportunities abound for simple, unadulterated, redneck fun (not that there’s anything wrong with that)!
For me, this trip was a sort of pilgrimage. You see, I’ve visited Gatlinburg before—circa 1992 for a high school band trip (yes, I’m THAT girl), and I never felt the burning desire to return until this summer. Not to relive those band camp memories (remember that?), rather to behold the presence of the popular Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Fertility Statues.
That’s right. We drove six hours and stayed in a grubby motel to rub on some statues.
Carved from ebony wood, the statues originate from the Ivory Coast, around the 1930s. Rumor has it that over 2,000 women have become pregnant after touching them. There are two statues, a king and a queen. The king holds a mango and a dagger, while the queen carries a baby.
Upon arrival at the Ripley’s Odditorium, we discovered that they offered a military discount for active duty, allowing us access to all eight Ripley’s amusement centers for only fifteen bucks. So, after checking out the statues we visited the 3D movie theater (where I banged my head and may or may not have sustained a slight concussion), mirror maze, aquarium, and the Guinness museum (the book—not the beer).
There might have been a fleeting moment or two where Eric would have disagreed; he tends to get a little irritated around throngs of hillbillies. In fact, at one point, he proclaimed that God was testing his patience by strategically positioning him behind large, slow women (ok, that’s not exactly what he said, but…). Nevertheless, he had a great time, too.
Today we’re back to reality in the Palmetto state. Eric starts the graveyard shift tonight and I go back to school on Friday (the 13th). Now, I’m just waiting to see if that statue mojo rubbed off on us...believe it or not!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Frankie Says Relax
Today at work one of my colleagues commented that I just needed to relax and then I will get pregnant. Since I’m nice in real life, I smiled and said, “Hmmm…maaaybeee.”
On the inside I was thinking, “Just ‘cause you got knocked up on accident while you were wasted doesn’t mean I will, too.”
I’m glad I edited that in reality.
But, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, that comment irks me. Simply because I want to plan the conception of my (our) baby does not mean I’m tense or uptight. Planning and relaxing aren’t mutually exclusive.
I AM RELAXED, DAMNIT!
:)
On the inside I was thinking, “Just ‘cause you got knocked up on accident while you were wasted doesn’t mean I will, too.”
I’m glad I edited that in reality.
But, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, that comment irks me. Simply because I want to plan the conception of my (our) baby does not mean I’m tense or uptight. Planning and relaxing aren’t mutually exclusive.
I AM RELAXED, DAMNIT!
:)
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Open Wide
After jumping through hoops and performing miraculous feats for our insurance company, I finally scheduled my HSG (where they shoot dye in the fallopian tubes to check the pipes) with my favorite gyno (Dr. Gwyneth Paltrow—ok, that’s not really her name, but you should see the resemblance) here in Chucktown instead of at the dreaded fertility clinic in Savannah. When I called the nurse, she informed me that my pap came back abnormal again and I have to get another colposcopy (where they take a bite out of the cervix to test for cancerous cells).
Dr. Paltrow has been after me to get a LEEP procedure (where they remove a layer of the cervix), but getting pregnant within a year after that increases the risk of pre-term labor. She knows we’re TTC and previously told me that six months (plus an additional nine if I get knocked up) is the longest I should wait. Now I’m afraid she’s going to pressure me to move it up. On the bright side, I guess I’d be able to drink mimosas again (bad joke).
On another note, I just ovulated (not right this second, but yesterday). Eric and I decided that more (not less) is more, so we did the baby dance everyday for all of the fertile days preceding ovulation as determined by the OV watch. I also decided that ovulating makes me hungrier than usual, as evidenced by the empty pint of Ben and Jerry’s in my trash can (no, that’s not on the fertility diet). It must take a lot of energy to lay that egg!
Dr. Paltrow has been after me to get a LEEP procedure (where they remove a layer of the cervix), but getting pregnant within a year after that increases the risk of pre-term labor. She knows we’re TTC and previously told me that six months (plus an additional nine if I get knocked up) is the longest I should wait. Now I’m afraid she’s going to pressure me to move it up. On the bright side, I guess I’d be able to drink mimosas again (bad joke).
On another note, I just ovulated (not right this second, but yesterday). Eric and I decided that more (not less) is more, so we did the baby dance everyday for all of the fertile days preceding ovulation as determined by the OV watch. I also decided that ovulating makes me hungrier than usual, as evidenced by the empty pint of Ben and Jerry’s in my trash can (no, that’s not on the fertility diet). It must take a lot of energy to lay that egg!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Ode to Mimosa
These last few weeks we’ve spent apart are not in vain. I’m trying to start a new life; one whose chances are better without you. For now, I must leave you behind, but we will have our day in the sun once more. One day I will toast you again.
Until then, I will think of you and your shapely fluted glass fondly as I pass our old meeting spots which advertise your never ending bliss. When that time comes, return to me and let me drink you in.
Intoxicatingly yours,
Annie
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
I Hate it When That Happens
I hate it when this happens, but Eric was right (well, kind of). Let me back up.
On Monday I went to my second chiropractic appointment to view my x-rays. In case you didn’t know, I’m RIGID. Everyone is supposed to have three sixty-three degree arches in their backs, forming a curvy snake shape (Really? Three 63 degree arches? Wow, God, You really rocked the human body!). But me, well, I have acute angles instead…at least in my neck. No wonder I get migraines.
After showing me how whacked out my vertebrae are, the chiropractor adjusted me. It was loud, but painless. In fact, it felt great. I think I got a little buzz off of it. Then the funniest thing happened (I’m getting to the part about Eric being right…).
The chiropractor had previously set up an appointment for me to come in the following day to discuss my “care plan” (I think I may have heard her say, “Show me the money,” under her breath). Then she asked if my husband could come with me to see the x-rays, because that would help him get on board.
Okay- that? Right there? Was weird. Because I hadn’t said ANYTHING about him thinking it was a scam. Was she reading my mind? Or worse…Was she reading my blog? You know, where I called her the head cheerleader and stuff.
I texted Eric who agreed to come (after joking about how they were going to try to make him drink the chiropractic kool-aid). Fast forward to Tuesday afternoon when we are both sitting in the office looking at my severely rigid neck x-rays, listening to the possible health and fertility benefits. Enter: the financial manager to discuss costs. Suddenly, I realized why Eric was there. This was going to be a serious financial commitment to the tune of $3300.
Really? $3300?
Um, maybe…………………………………………………………………………………….later?
So, that’s why I said I hate it when Eric is right. The funniest part of this is that somehow, after all of that, Eric has an appointment set up with them for a consultation next week. Blahahahaha!
On Monday I went to my second chiropractic appointment to view my x-rays. In case you didn’t know, I’m RIGID. Everyone is supposed to have three sixty-three degree arches in their backs, forming a curvy snake shape (Really? Three 63 degree arches? Wow, God, You really rocked the human body!). But me, well, I have acute angles instead…at least in my neck. No wonder I get migraines.
After showing me how whacked out my vertebrae are, the chiropractor adjusted me. It was loud, but painless. In fact, it felt great. I think I got a little buzz off of it. Then the funniest thing happened (I’m getting to the part about Eric being right…).
The chiropractor had previously set up an appointment for me to come in the following day to discuss my “care plan” (I think I may have heard her say, “Show me the money,” under her breath). Then she asked if my husband could come with me to see the x-rays, because that would help him get on board.
Okay- that? Right there? Was weird. Because I hadn’t said ANYTHING about him thinking it was a scam. Was she reading my mind? Or worse…Was she reading my blog? You know, where I called her the head cheerleader and stuff.
I texted Eric who agreed to come (after joking about how they were going to try to make him drink the chiropractic kool-aid). Fast forward to Tuesday afternoon when we are both sitting in the office looking at my severely rigid neck x-rays, listening to the possible health and fertility benefits. Enter: the financial manager to discuss costs. Suddenly, I realized why Eric was there. This was going to be a serious financial commitment to the tune of $3300.
Really? $3300?
Um, maybe…………………………………………………………………………………….later?
So, that’s why I said I hate it when Eric is right. The funniest part of this is that somehow, after all of that, Eric has an appointment set up with them for a consultation next week. Blahahahaha!
Monday, July 26, 2010
No Control
My seventh grade science teacher, Mr. Adair, would probably be disappointed with my fertility experiment due to the numerous variables I have introduced. In fact, I was starting to lose track of them myself, so I decided to take time tonight to recap our many efforts on this reproductive journey. I’ve linked them to my past posts, so if you need a recap, too, it’s only a click away!
1. Prayers
2. Semen Analysis
3. Fertility Diet
4. Prenatal Vitamins
5. Ov Watch
6. Charting Cycle
7. Cervical Mucus
8. Acupuncture
9. Herbs
10. Fertility Bracelet
11. Lunar Phase Fertility
12. Chiropractic
13. Robitussin
What’s next? Hopefully a hysterosalpingogram (HSG) to check my pipes. I have a consultation scheduled for Wednesday, and I’m hoping to get it in before school starts. I guess that will be a big middle finger to getting this thing done "without the help of modern medicine." Plus, I already took the Robitussin (Does that count?).
By the way, school starts on Friday the 13th... I think that says it all!
1. Prayers
2. Semen Analysis
3. Fertility Diet
4. Prenatal Vitamins
5. Ov Watch
6. Charting Cycle
7. Cervical Mucus
8. Acupuncture
9. Herbs
10. Fertility Bracelet
11. Lunar Phase Fertility
12. Chiropractic
13. Robitussin
What’s next? Hopefully a hysterosalpingogram (HSG) to check my pipes. I have a consultation scheduled for Wednesday, and I’m hoping to get it in before school starts. I guess that will be a big middle finger to getting this thing done "without the help of modern medicine." Plus, I already took the Robitussin (Does that count?).
By the way, school starts on Friday the 13th... I think that says it all!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Put Some Tussin On It
Well, I guess Chris Rock’s dad was onto something when he told him to “put some Tussin on it.” Last month I came across a blog post at justmommies.com about the effects of Robitussin on cervical mucus and I’ve been waiting until just the right time to try it. Don’t worry; you don’t actually put the Tussin on any sensitive body parts (thank goodness)! Ingesting it three times a day for the five days prior to ovulation thins the mucus and creates a more hospitable environment for the sperm.
It’s important to make sure you take regular or generic Robitussin with Guaifenesin as the main ingredient (not Robitussin with letters like DM or CF behind it—as these won’t have the same effect).
I bought some at Harris Teeter (aka the “Teet”) tonight and plan on starting the Robo-regimen tomorrow morning.
It’s important to make sure you take regular or generic Robitussin with Guaifenesin as the main ingredient (not Robitussin with letters like DM or CF behind it—as these won’t have the same effect).
I bought some at Harris Teeter (aka the “Teet”) tonight and plan on starting the Robo-regimen tomorrow morning.
Friday, July 23, 2010
F-Fest Begins!
In a previous post I mentioned lunar phase fertility, a theory presented in the 1950’s by Dr. Eugene Jonas, an astrology enthusiast, who was investigating why many women got pregnant when practicing the rhythm method. This theory proposes that contingent upon the cycle of the moon, a woman may ovulate more than one time during a given month.
After finding a website that would chart this information for customers using their birth date and time for about $40, I joked that I would save my cash for something else like shoes or jeans (although at this point, I’d probably use it for my next chiropractor’s visit).
The moon seems pretty mysterious and powerful to me, so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit interested in this theory. Frank, one of my facebook friends from high school practices astrology and Reiki, so I messaged him after I wrote my previous post to find out what he knew about lunar phase fertility.
He already had my information (b-day, time of birth) so he took the initiative of calculating my most fertile time (for free!). According to Frank, my moon sign is a guestimated 18 degrees Capricorn, so my window to conceive is when the monthly moon sign goes into Capricorn.
Eric and I have dubbed this time F-Fest (the F is for fertility, of course). Let the games begin! Or should I say "continue"...
After finding a website that would chart this information for customers using their birth date and time for about $40, I joked that I would save my cash for something else like shoes or jeans (although at this point, I’d probably use it for my next chiropractor’s visit).
The moon seems pretty mysterious and powerful to me, so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit interested in this theory. Frank, one of my facebook friends from high school practices astrology and Reiki, so I messaged him after I wrote my previous post to find out what he knew about lunar phase fertility.
He already had my information (b-day, time of birth) so he took the initiative of calculating my most fertile time (for free!). According to Frank, my moon sign is a guestimated 18 degrees Capricorn, so my window to conceive is when the monthly moon sign goes into Capricorn. He recommended that for the 3 days the moon is in Capricorn Eric and I should—let’s see, how should I put this—go at it like wild rabbits. Sorry, mom!
Well, guess what, it started today. Slightly before 5:00 AM this morning, and runs through Sunday, with the best chance for conception sometime around tomorrow afternoon (according to Frank).
Eric and I have dubbed this time F-Fest (the F is for fertility, of course). Let the games begin! Or should I say "continue"...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Give Me a C-N-S!
Bright and early this morning I ventured out to a local chiropractor for an initial consultation that I scheduled after reading about the link between chiropractic and infertility. This particular clinic has designated the theme for July as “Reproductive Issues.” As I crossed the threshold I felt as though I had entered another world.
Cheerleaders greeted me (ok, they weren’t really cheerleaders, but they might as well have been with all of their perpetual peppiness) and Kool and the Gang belted out “Celebrate good times, Come on!” There was even a big sign with “Welcome Annie B,” plastered in neon green across it! I’m so not kidding here.
I flashed back to my senior year when I went to visit colleges, specifically Texas A&M, where they cheered, chanted, sang, howdy-ed and bubbled over with school spirit (If you know any Aggies, you know what I’m talking about, right?). It totally freaked me out (which could be why I eventually ended up at UT (hook ‘em))!
After the shock of the initial fanfare wore off, I was escorted to a small room where the doctor (aka head cheerleader) explained the function of the spinal cord and central nervous system and the effects associated with sublaxation (due to misalignment of the vertebrae). She suggested that this could contribute to my migraines, hormonal imbalances and possibly even our unexplained infertility.
She went on to proclaim that a well-known joke among chiropractors, are sitting around at chiropractic conferences, sipping white wine is to ask, “How many babies are named after you?” because of all the pregnancies that pop up after clients get properly adjusted (Hmm…who knew?). By the way, I’ve been craving white wine—or any wine, or a mimosa—all day now!
She then instructed me to stand on an “X” as she looked at me in a mirror that was cross-sectioned off and examined my posture. Ready? Okay! Slight left hip protrusion, head tilt to the right… until that moment I like, never realized that I like stand like a total valley girl. Gag a maggot (with a spoon)!
Following a brief interview about past accidents, my stress levels and our infertility issues, I was ushered into an x-ray room where a technician took several pictures of my vertebrae. Shortly thereafter I met with the cheerful receptionist again to schedule my next appointment, so the doctor can read my x-rays and possibly adjust me.
Around noon, Eric came home for lunch and got irritated with me because he thinks chiropractic is quackery. Of course they’ll adjust me, he suspiciously conjectured…and adjust me and adjust me and adjust me over and over again until all that’s left in my pockets is lint! I was irritated at this rejection of the notion that some inkling of a possibility might exist that this could work.
Though I, too, have wondered about the legitimacy of chiropractic, it doesn’t really seem any more absurd than acupuncture (and I do love acupuncture). In fact, it makes more sense to me. If I had to choose between chi and central nervous system, give me a C-N-S, any old day of the week!
Cheerleaders greeted me (ok, they weren’t really cheerleaders, but they might as well have been with all of their perpetual peppiness) and Kool and the Gang belted out “Celebrate good times, Come on!” There was even a big sign with “Welcome Annie B,” plastered in neon green across it! I’m so not kidding here.
I flashed back to my senior year when I went to visit colleges, specifically Texas A&M, where they cheered, chanted, sang, howdy-ed and bubbled over with school spirit (If you know any Aggies, you know what I’m talking about, right?). It totally freaked me out (which could be why I eventually ended up at UT (hook ‘em))!
After the shock of the initial fanfare wore off, I was escorted to a small room where the doctor (aka head cheerleader) explained the function of the spinal cord and central nervous system and the effects associated with sublaxation (due to misalignment of the vertebrae). She suggested that this could contribute to my migraines, hormonal imbalances and possibly even our unexplained infertility.
She went on to proclaim that a well-known joke among chiropractors, are sitting around at chiropractic conferences, sipping white wine is to ask, “How many babies are named after you?” because of all the pregnancies that pop up after clients get properly adjusted (Hmm…who knew?). By the way, I’ve been craving white wine—or any wine, or a mimosa—all day now!
She then instructed me to stand on an “X” as she looked at me in a mirror that was cross-sectioned off and examined my posture. Ready? Okay! Slight left hip protrusion, head tilt to the right… until that moment I like, never realized that I like stand like a total valley girl. Gag a maggot (with a spoon)!
Following a brief interview about past accidents, my stress levels and our infertility issues, I was ushered into an x-ray room where a technician took several pictures of my vertebrae. Shortly thereafter I met with the cheerful receptionist again to schedule my next appointment, so the doctor can read my x-rays and possibly adjust me.
Around noon, Eric came home for lunch and got irritated with me because he thinks chiropractic is quackery. Of course they’ll adjust me, he suspiciously conjectured…and adjust me and adjust me and adjust me over and over again until all that’s left in my pockets is lint! I was irritated at this rejection of the notion that some inkling of a possibility might exist that this could work.
Though I, too, have wondered about the legitimacy of chiropractic, it doesn’t really seem any more absurd than acupuncture (and I do love acupuncture). In fact, it makes more sense to me. If I had to choose between chi and central nervous system, give me a C-N-S, any old day of the week!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Five Facile Ways To Forecast Your Fertility
1. Ovulation Calendars and Calculators such as http://www.ovulation-calculator.com/ are free and easy, especially if you have a regular cycle. Simply enter in the date of your last period, cycle length and luteal phase length (if you aren’t sure, just select the defaults) and click to view your lucky date!
2. Basal Body Temperature is slightly more complicated, but also more precise. For less than $10 you can purchase a basal thermometer at your local pharmacy. This is a super-sensitive thermometer that tracks even the tiniest shift in your body temperature. Use it at the same time every morning before you even get out of bed—when your temperature spikes, ovulation is complete. Since it basically tells you after the fact, chart it for a month or so until you can begin to make your own prediction about when you are most fertile.
3. Fertility Monitors are more expensive than other methods (ranging from $150 to $250), but also give you up to seven days advanced notice prior to ovulation—especially great for those of us with slightly irregular cycles. The Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor is a digital reader that requires you to urinate on test sticks to predict ovulation. The OvaCue Monitor uses saliva to predict fertility. If you aren’t into bodily fluids, check out the Ov Watch, a digital, sporty, watch-like monitor that can be worn while sleeping.
4. Ovulation Predictor Kits are similar to pregnancy tests, since you have to urinate on them and wait a few minutes for the results. Although they don’t give you the heads up that the fertility monitors do, they are less expensive, averaging $35 for a one month supply.
5. Cervical Mucus changes throughout a woman’s cycle. At your most fertile time, cervical mucus is the consistency of egg whites and can be stretched up to about two inches between your thumb and forefinger. It’s your body’s natural lubricant to help the sperm on their journey to the egg. It may sound invasive, but it’s free and easy!
It’s up to you to decide the method that best suits your needs… or try a combination to discover your fertile days on your TTC journey!
2. Basal Body Temperature is slightly more complicated, but also more precise. For less than $10 you can purchase a basal thermometer at your local pharmacy. This is a super-sensitive thermometer that tracks even the tiniest shift in your body temperature. Use it at the same time every morning before you even get out of bed—when your temperature spikes, ovulation is complete. Since it basically tells you after the fact, chart it for a month or so until you can begin to make your own prediction about when you are most fertile.
3. Fertility Monitors are more expensive than other methods (ranging from $150 to $250), but also give you up to seven days advanced notice prior to ovulation—especially great for those of us with slightly irregular cycles. The Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor is a digital reader that requires you to urinate on test sticks to predict ovulation. The OvaCue Monitor uses saliva to predict fertility. If you aren’t into bodily fluids, check out the Ov Watch, a digital, sporty, watch-like monitor that can be worn while sleeping.
4. Ovulation Predictor Kits are similar to pregnancy tests, since you have to urinate on them and wait a few minutes for the results. Although they don’t give you the heads up that the fertility monitors do, they are less expensive, averaging $35 for a one month supply.
5. Cervical Mucus changes throughout a woman’s cycle. At your most fertile time, cervical mucus is the consistency of egg whites and can be stretched up to about two inches between your thumb and forefinger. It’s your body’s natural lubricant to help the sperm on their journey to the egg. It may sound invasive, but it’s free and easy!
It’s up to you to decide the method that best suits your needs… or try a combination to discover your fertile days on your TTC journey!
Stick It In Me
After checking out my tongue and taking my twelve meridian pulses, to the rhythmic beats of Ali Farka (Did I mention this chick has great taste in music? Oh yeah, I did in my previous acupuncture post, Pins and Needles), AmyJo, my acupuncturist, herbalist and future BFF (just kidding, Val) commenced sticking me with tiny needles.
Last time twelve needles pierced my upper back, but today I was stuck with fifteen. Six in my hands (as pictured), six in my feet, two in my legs near my knees, and one in my upper sternum, all relatively painless.
AmyJo mixed up a new concoction of herbs for me, a recipe she recently discovered at a workshop she attended in Seattle. According to her, this potion will give the “emperor a throne”…Honestly, I’m not sure what that means, but as long as he stays clear of my uterus, we’re cool.
Unfortunately, these herbs taste way worse than the last batch—a flavor reminiscent of kerosene. I got the hiccups after taking them and thought I was going to vomit. I’m going to try to slam another shot’s worth before brushing my teeth, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep this up (or down, for that matter).
Next week: Acupuncture appointment number three with a cherry on top—Eric will get a treatment, too! Don’t worry, honey, AmyJo said you can rest assured that the needles won’t go anywhere near your yin or yang.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Hang on for the Ride
Today I rode the hormonal roller coaster-- figuratively speaking, that is. I recently started reading Eat, Pray, Love. In the beginning of the book, Elizabeth Gilbert recounts her fears and lack of desire to have a baby, which contributes to the demise of her first marriage. Her sister compares having a baby to getting a tattoo on your face—something you better be pretty darned committed to! I woke up giggling about this analogy, since I found it incredibly humorous. Not that long ago, I, too, was unsure about whether or not I wanted to birth a baby.
Not in a Prissy-from-Gone-with-the-Wind-birthing-no-babies way, but actually being the one to gain weight, get hemorrhoids, have my size 9 feet (and maybe nose) grow, get cut “down there”, squeeze a human out of my vajayjay and so on. Thankfully, I’m totally over that now (wink)!
As I stepped into the shower this morning, I was feeling extremely positive about this whole fertility situation. I’ve been reading other peoples’ blogs about infertility lately, and so many of them are sad and depressed. Many are jealous of their friends and family members who are starting or growing their families. Then, they feel guilty about being jealous.
Luckily, I don’t share those feelings. Although I can understand them, I have more of a “que sera sera” attitude. If we can’t get this done the natural, vajayjay ripping way, we’ll get it done another way and love our babies—biological or otherwise.
I carried this attitude to my breast exam appointment (which was slightly less invasive than my last bra fitting at Nordstrom’s). After getting felt up, I chatted with my primary care physician about the possibility of scheduling an HSG (where they shoot dye into the fallopian tubes to see if there’s anything blocking the yellow brick road).
Since we’re an Air Force family, everything has to get proper clearance for take-off. Coincidentally, our doctor is going through IVF right now, so she is very empathetic to our situation and wrote the referral right there in the office. I left the base hospital in a fabulous mood.
When I got home, my hormones must’ve kicked into overdrive, because I started getting a migraine-- which reminded me that I had forgotten to get my migraine medication refilled at the base hospital. Grrr! So, I slathered my face and head with Stop Pain and laid down to take a nap.
It hurt less when I awoke, so I surfed the net and checked my email. I happened upon an article from Self magazine about the silence of infertility (http://www.self.com/health/2010/08/breaking-the-silence-on-infertility) and got all teary eyed, feeling sorry for the people in the article who were too ashamed to talk about their infertility with their friends and family. People who spent over 100K for IVF that didn’t even work! I felt lucky to be me—supported by my husband, family and friends!
Then Eric came home and we somehow got on the topic of adoption while we were making dinner. I started crying thinking about how long it could take and how expensive it is. I may have even shed a few tears into the baked eggplant.
But then I remembered my positive attitude from this morning and tried to re-embrace it. And my headache had gone away. So, I just got glad in the same britches I got sad in (stole that one from my momma). The roller coaster came to an abrupt halt and I hopped off that ride! Now, I’m back on solid ground.
Not in a Prissy-from-Gone-with-the-Wind-birthing-no-babies way, but actually being the one to gain weight, get hemorrhoids, have my size 9 feet (and maybe nose) grow, get cut “down there”, squeeze a human out of my vajayjay and so on. Thankfully, I’m totally over that now (wink)!
As I stepped into the shower this morning, I was feeling extremely positive about this whole fertility situation. I’ve been reading other peoples’ blogs about infertility lately, and so many of them are sad and depressed. Many are jealous of their friends and family members who are starting or growing their families. Then, they feel guilty about being jealous.
Luckily, I don’t share those feelings. Although I can understand them, I have more of a “que sera sera” attitude. If we can’t get this done the natural, vajayjay ripping way, we’ll get it done another way and love our babies—biological or otherwise.
I carried this attitude to my breast exam appointment (which was slightly less invasive than my last bra fitting at Nordstrom’s). After getting felt up, I chatted with my primary care physician about the possibility of scheduling an HSG (where they shoot dye into the fallopian tubes to see if there’s anything blocking the yellow brick road).
Since we’re an Air Force family, everything has to get proper clearance for take-off. Coincidentally, our doctor is going through IVF right now, so she is very empathetic to our situation and wrote the referral right there in the office. I left the base hospital in a fabulous mood.
When I got home, my hormones must’ve kicked into overdrive, because I started getting a migraine-- which reminded me that I had forgotten to get my migraine medication refilled at the base hospital. Grrr! So, I slathered my face and head with Stop Pain and laid down to take a nap.
It hurt less when I awoke, so I surfed the net and checked my email. I happened upon an article from Self magazine about the silence of infertility (http://www.self.com/health/2010/08/breaking-the-silence-on-infertility) and got all teary eyed, feeling sorry for the people in the article who were too ashamed to talk about their infertility with their friends and family. People who spent over 100K for IVF that didn’t even work! I felt lucky to be me—supported by my husband, family and friends!
Then Eric came home and we somehow got on the topic of adoption while we were making dinner. I started crying thinking about how long it could take and how expensive it is. I may have even shed a few tears into the baked eggplant.
But then I remembered my positive attitude from this morning and tried to re-embrace it. And my headache had gone away. So, I just got glad in the same britches I got sad in (stole that one from my momma). The roller coaster came to an abrupt halt and I hopped off that ride! Now, I’m back on solid ground.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Baffled
A few days ago I received a group email from one of my good friends in my ladies’ group from church requesting baby gear for a friend of hers who just found out she was SEVEN MONTHS PREGNANT!?! Excuse my French, church ladies, but WTF?
Sure, I’ve seen this episode on TLC several times before, but when it’s someone I know (okay, it’s really someone someone I know knows) it makes it a heck of a lot stranger. According to The Caveman’s Pregnancy Companion (a little ditty Eric and I picked up at B&N), by the seventh month, the baby is the size of a pot roast. His or her head, eyes, hands, feet, digits, genitals, lashes, brows and nails are developed. He or she pees (ew), kicks, moves around, and reacts to light and sound outside the womb.
Did this unsuspecting mother-to-be mistake her seven months of pregnancy for one serious case of kick-ass indigestion? Was there no morning sickness? No ta-ta engorgement? No night time urination? No buttons popping off suddenly tightened clothing? And, what about, well, you know, the most obvious sign that something might be awry in vajayjay land?
It’s possible that I’m lacking empathy here (and therefore in need of extra prayer from my fellow church ladies), but, as Mark Twain so aptly put it, “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt!”
By the way, it’s a boy! If you’re feeling generous and have any baby gear you’d like to pass along to this brilliant Betty, let me know and I’ll make arrangements.
Sure, I’ve seen this episode on TLC several times before, but when it’s someone I know (okay, it’s really someone someone I know knows) it makes it a heck of a lot stranger. According to The Caveman’s Pregnancy Companion (a little ditty Eric and I picked up at B&N), by the seventh month, the baby is the size of a pot roast. His or her head, eyes, hands, feet, digits, genitals, lashes, brows and nails are developed. He or she pees (ew), kicks, moves around, and reacts to light and sound outside the womb.
Did this unsuspecting mother-to-be mistake her seven months of pregnancy for one serious case of kick-ass indigestion? Was there no morning sickness? No ta-ta engorgement? No night time urination? No buttons popping off suddenly tightened clothing? And, what about, well, you know, the most obvious sign that something might be awry in vajayjay land?
It’s possible that I’m lacking empathy here (and therefore in need of extra prayer from my fellow church ladies), but, as Mark Twain so aptly put it, “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt!”
By the way, it’s a boy! If you’re feeling generous and have any baby gear you’d like to pass along to this brilliant Betty, let me know and I’ll make arrangements.
Friday, July 16, 2010
One Month Down, Two to Go
In sixty days (or 1,440 hours, but who’s counting?) I will turn 35 friggin’ years old. About a month ago, when I brought it to my husband’s attention that this monumental b-day was approaching, his response was, “Damn, baby! You’re old!” Since he’s only four months my junior, I’ll dismiss that comment as “cute” and let him live (plus, he IS an integral part of this here baby-making scheme).
Interestingly enough, today also corresponds with day 1 of something else I’ve been expecting. I think that’s an adequate explanation.
Interestingly enough, today also corresponds with day 1 of something else I’ve been expecting. I think that’s an adequate explanation.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Nailed it
Clickety clack, clickety clack! “What’s that sound?” you may ask. My fingernails tapping away on the keyboard, of course. Since I began taking prenatal vitamins about one month ago I have noticed that my fingernails have grown longer and stronger than usual. Not Guinness-Book-of-World-Records-haven’t-cut-them-in-so-many-years-they’re-curling-under long, but definitely longer than they usually make it before peeling off.
Supposedly, it’s a myth that prenatal vitamins cause fingernail (or hair) growth. The elevated hormones that come with pregnancy, however, can cause the extra growth. I’m not sure I am totally sold on the myth theory, since my fingernails are obviously (at least to me) longer than normal. My dark roots are following suit, too, so I’ll be making a salon appointment when we get back to Charleston.
On an unrelated note, day 32, and still no shark week. What’s up with that?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
No Tea Party For Me
To steal a quote from the White Rabbit, “I’m late; I’m late, for a very important date!” Today is day 31 of my 29-30 day cycle. In the spirit of masochism, I urinated on ye olde pregnancy test #2 just to confirm the accuracy of the one I took on Sunday. Ditto.
A watched pot never boils, right? In fact, a watched pot will boil-- it just seems to take forever. I guess that’s what’s happening here with the rebooting of the ovarian operating system.
A watched pot never boils, right? In fact, a watched pot will boil-- it just seems to take forever. I guess that’s what’s happening here with the rebooting of the ovarian operating system.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Baby Dust
Two days ago I posted my blog on facebook, or “spacebook,” as my Uncle Kenneth (RIP) called it. The response it generated was quite overwhelming. Not only is everyone rooting for us to get knocked up with their comments (*like*), but my inbox was flooded with encouraging emails and testimonials from empathetic girlfriends who either are or have been in the same position (figuratively speaking).
Most of these commiserates are thirtysomethings like me, but few of them have openly shared their fertility challenges because of pain and isolation they have experienced. We spent the majority of our twenties curled up with our contraceptives of choice, fearing pregnancy like the black plague. The pervading assumption was that once we stopped the preventative maintenance our bellies would swell with offspring. We held friends and acquaintances who cried in our arms because of accidents, which I now prefer to call “surprises.” We took baskets of baby paraphernalia to showers for our young married friends and shuddered at the thought of being responsible for anything more than ourselves (and possibly our pets).
Then we grew up, got married, planned families, only to discover that it wasn’t as easy as we once thought. For me, writing this blog is almost cathartic. I take pleasure in exploring the nontraditional, finding humor in the midst of disappointment and shocking and awing my friends and family. It’s pleasing to think that others might find some morsel of comfort within these lines.
Thanks to those of you who have shared your tips and stories with me, from IVF to adoptions to surrogacy (and all the positions in between). And to those of you who aren’t quite there yet, baby dust!
Most of these commiserates are thirtysomethings like me, but few of them have openly shared their fertility challenges because of pain and isolation they have experienced. We spent the majority of our twenties curled up with our contraceptives of choice, fearing pregnancy like the black plague. The pervading assumption was that once we stopped the preventative maintenance our bellies would swell with offspring. We held friends and acquaintances who cried in our arms because of accidents, which I now prefer to call “surprises.” We took baskets of baby paraphernalia to showers for our young married friends and shuddered at the thought of being responsible for anything more than ourselves (and possibly our pets).
Then we grew up, got married, planned families, only to discover that it wasn’t as easy as we once thought. For me, writing this blog is almost cathartic. I take pleasure in exploring the nontraditional, finding humor in the midst of disappointment and shocking and awing my friends and family. It’s pleasing to think that others might find some morsel of comfort within these lines.
Thanks to those of you who have shared your tips and stories with me, from IVF to adoptions to surrogacy (and all the positions in between). And to those of you who aren’t quite there yet, baby dust!
Monday, July 12, 2010
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