The Mystery Continues...

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.

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!

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.

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.

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"...

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!

A Woman's Prerogative

Yesterday I ranted about pill pushing doctors and the medicalization of infertility. Today, however, I marvel at the wonders of modern medicine. My dear friend texted me this morning to alert me that she was on her way to the hospital to deliver a precious baby girl. It wasn’t too long ago that this couple was weighing their options to determine if they should move forward with IVF. One human gestation period later, they are parents at last! And wonderful, loving parents they will be!

What a blessing, facilitated by fertility doctors and the Lord Almighty! Praise God!

Watching and Waiting

My biological clock isn't the only thing ticking around here. My new OV Watch Fertility Predictor is more sporty than fashionable, but luckily I only have to wear it when I sleep.

This device was recommended to me by two of my closest friends, Valerie and Emily. It's a watch-like device that is worn for at least six hours each day, starting on days 1,2, or 3 of a woman's cycle. According to the package it uses a "patented biosensor [that] detects the chloride surge 3 days prior to the estrogen surge, 4 days prior to the LH surge and 5 days prior to ovulation, making it an earlier predictor of ovulation than any other chemical surge during the month."

In plain English, this means no more peeing on sticks, which I'm pretty happy about. Knowing when these 4 days prior to ovulation are gives us a cummulative 80% chance of conceiving, compared to only 5% on the actual day of ovulation.

This handy contraption isn't cheap. It costs $100 for the watch with a sensor that lasts one month. Additional sensors can be purchased later in sets of 3 for another benjamin. A small price to pay when weighed against the potential benefits. I figure if I can justify buying a $300 pair of jeans, I can certainly justify this!

I slept in it for the first time last night and it was very comfortable, virtually unnoticeable, except for the impression it left on my skin the next morning. In fact, it was WAY more comfortable than sleeping in my Rich and Skinnies (of which I am neither).

OV-Watch Fertility Predictor Starter Kit with 1 Month Supply of Sensors

There Is No Try

As I was walked through the mall last week an aggressive Israeli kiosk vendor selling Dead Sea skin care products practically bowled me over in an attempt to slather me with her moisturizing youth creams. Obviously unaware of a little concept known as “cultural sensitivity”, this audacious woman had the nerve to inquire about my age as she grabbed my hand and began to massage my fingers with her mineral-rich salve.

“Thirty-four,” I whispered discretely. She stared back, mouth agape. Seeing this as a prime opportunity to withdraw my hand from her clutches, I began to retract, but she clamped down firmly and continued massaging, working her way up my fingers to my wedding ring. “Married?” she queried. “Yes,” I retorted, dumbfounded. “Children?” she continued.

“Who the hell do you think you are—my new bestie?” I wondered. “No.”

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really in a hurry,” I lied. She quickly began spewing off product information about the mystical healing properties of the ointment that now enveloped my forearm all the way up to my elbow. “No, thanks!” I asserted, yanking my arm away and scurrying off towards Dillard’s shoe department in astonishment.

It isn’t every day that I encounter strangers who so abruptly pry into my personal life. But I have to admit the overarching themes of this tête-à-tête are typical of those in conversations with just about everyone I encounter in my daily life.

When people find out that I am thirty-four, married and childless, they want to know why. The rest of the dialogue goes something like this…

“Well, my husband and I have been trying to have kids for a while now.”

“Stop trying. All you have to do is relax.”

“We haven’t been trying, trying. We just haven’t been not trying—if you know what I mean.” (insert blush)

Quite frankly, I’m exhausted by this c’est la vie attitude toward reproduction. Tomorrow begins the 90 day countdown to my 35th birthday, and my clock is ticking. I want a baby. Let me rephrase that-- we (my adoring husband, Eric, and I) want a baby!

Yoda, in his infinite wisdom, said, “Do or do not…there is no try.” Since we’ve been trying for two years to no avail, one might conclude that we are reproductively challenged, but we refuse to buy into that theory. So, for the next ninety days we intend to do (it). We will make a baby, and we’ll do it without the assistance of modern medicine.

We’ll do everything, from acupuncture to zinc and you’re invited to come along on this miraculous carpet ride (pun intended). Join us as we explore fertility and chronicle our adventures in baby making.