Originally posted to Livejournal on March 4, 2007
This is my hiding place.
This is where I can get my thoughts out, complain, explain, vent, and ponder. I want a place to be able to be honest and open without having to wonder how my mom, my sisters-in-law, my husband’s friends, my cousins think. A place where I can say whatever I feel, even if it’s a stream of ranting. This is where I don’t have to check myself. Maybe I’ll join a community, maybe I won’t. But I need to ramble as though someone is listening, even if they aren’t. I need to know that I can do this here to avoid driving my friends and husband insane. Infertility will do that to you, I’m finding. I’ll explain more later, I’m sure. The only person I know will be reading this for now is Sealgair, who has known me forever. Hey, Sealgair!!! Basically, I just need a place to talk endlessly without wondering if I sound like a crazy woman.
Here’s my disclaimer. I’m sure at some point, I’ll share this with my mom, my hubby, and two special friends. I love the four of you like no one else, and I want and need your support. I want you to know that I love you even when I’m crazy. I probably will not share this with a lot of other people because of several things:
1. This is intensely private subject matter
2. I will be discussing my sex life, my reproductive health, and the State of Cooter Affairs
3. I am occasionally going to sound like a raving lunatic. The only person who knows for sure that I am NOT said lunatic is my mother. Everyone else can take her word for it.
There’s my disclaimer. You may all four join this blog at different times. Hello, and I love you. To others, who surf on in, howdy. To Sealgair, my only real LJ friend so far, thank you for accepting me for who I am and who I have become. You are one of the most honest and accepting people I know. I know this is probably not at all interesting to you. If you decide to stay and read on, I understand if you glaze over and skim 🙂 I probably would, too.
When I was 17, I was diagnosed with a “syndrome”. Oh, no! It’s not that bad, folks. I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. So does my mother, a first cousin, and at least two great aunts. Oh, the fun of genetics. If you don’t know what PCOS is, Google it. It will sound scary. It’s not. If you know me personally, you’ve seen the results. Lately my favorite euphemism for fat is “fluffy”. As in “PCOS makes me fluffy.” Sounds better than “I have a big, fat can.” See? Add to that the sporadic hair loss (thank you, Metformin, for giving me my hair back a little bit.), the abnormal hair growth in other places (what? You didn’t know? Yeah, I pluck a lot), and the driest skin known to man, and you have a fun little endochronolgical disorder. I have dry eyes and skin, but oily hair. I have Insulin Resistance, and I’m not even sure how that works. But apparently I’m controlling it, go figure. I eat very little, but I don’t lose weight. I have skin tags, dark patches of skin, and a body that doesn’t work the way it should. Oh, and depression. But that’s the least of my problems!! I’ve been on BCP since I was 17 (12 years?) and have no idea what a normal cycle is. See, there’s the fun part. I may be infertile. We won’t know until we start to TRY. That horrible little word.
I am the result of 7 years of a fertility drug, Clomid. My mom has PCOS, too, remember. She went through HELL to have me. I am one of the few kids in the world who can know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were wanted — desperately. And now, starting to know that trying to conceive is like, I can understand better just how much. See, I got married in October. To The Most Wonderful Man in the World. I will think of a good code name for him at some point, I’m sure. Until then, we’ll just fake it. But I told my husband about my PCOS a long time before we even talked about getting married. How else do you explain that one of your medications makes your hands and feet go to sleep? Or that you really DO need that much lotion? Or that eyebrow waxing is a buget-able expense? He was completely accepting. He understood that I may never be able to have biological children, and that he may never know what his progeny will look like. He loves me anyway, and I am STILL in awe of that. He lives through nights where I can’t sleep, days where I can’t stay awake, tears for no reason, random days of sheer rudeness, and a regimen of drugs and food that makes ME dizzy. He puts up with a lower-carb, home-milled grain, lean meat and herb-filled diet. He understands my obsession with alternative remedies. He gets it.
We decided that we would start to think about kids this summer, around June. Bear in mind, we already had family, friends, colleagues, and random Joe on the street asking if we were going to have babies two weeks after our wedding. I wish I was kidding. My parents talk about grandchildren in that hopeful way that infertile couples have. They know not to pressure, but they know to be optimistic. Of course, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends don’t always know that. So, we’ve fielded the usual newlywed questions. Some have been less than tactful. For the time being, we’re telling people that we want to wait until we have a new house, hubby has a new job, we have time to spend with kids. Heavens, we need time for sex. But you can’t tell your grandma that. Well, I could have told my grandma that, but she was special 🙂 So, we’re using TIME as our buzz word. Bear in mind we have some seriously Christian friends and relatives that believe that any birth control is wrong. Flat wrong. You know what? To each his own. Bug off. We have to time things. My OB/GYN, Slush, wants me to lose weight. Yeah, whatever. I’m trying, and it’s not happening. If it doesn’t start to fall off in little piles soon, we’re going to an endochronolgist in May. So, I’m not really allowed to try to get pregnant. Or TTC , as the cute little acronym goes.
Well, here’s the current situation. Didn’t know I was going to write a novel, didja? Slush changed my birth control pill (BCP) to Yasmin in November. I was having strange pains in my abdomen mid-cycle. Turns out I’m ovulating. HOLY HANNAH, I’m ovulating. I’m not supposed to do that. This little proof of normalcy makes my day. I get a secret, unbelievable GLEE out of the fact. And the fact that it hurts? Even better because I can KNOW that it’s happening. I kid you not, I actually like ovulation pain. It’s my ONE tiny victory in this battle. It’s taken 12 years, but I’m happy with a little floaty egg. So, Slush changed my pill. Yasmin and I got along just fine until the beginning of February. Then, I started to feel a little strange. Oh, why beat around the bush. I feel pregnant. Very. If you Google “early pregnancy symptoms” (and I did) I have them all. Even the weird ones like dry skin (even DRIER!!), stuffy nose, and back pain. Now, I won’t go into numbers. I know that once this becomes my TTC journal I will have a ton of numbers in here. For now, know that if a whole lot of things lined up, I could be pregnant. It’s entirely possible. It’s just not likely. But, possible. But two pregnancy tests turned up negative. A nurse-friend says that they were too early anyway. I’ll be peeing on another piece of plastic next week if the evil red witch doesn’t show up on Monday or Tuesday. Meanwhile, I am miserable. I am crampy, my back hurts, my head pounds, I want to vomit, my boobs hurt, I am dizzy. Twice I’ve had to ask my husband to take a shower after pumping gas because I can’t stand the smell….after he’s washed his hands. Chocolate made me ill last week — this week it’s manna from Heaven. I cry at Toyota commercials. I feel for the caveman on the Progressive commercials. I was an uber-wench for like two weeks. The fact that my husband didn’t take a contract out on me is a miracle. I can’t stay awake on the couch, and I can’t sleep in bed. I have veins in my arms to make heroin junkies jealous. Here’s the kicker…….
All these things can be side effects of Yasmin. WHAT?? Yeah. Yasmin can make you feel pregnant. All the crap, none of the joy. Here’s the better part — from my internet searching (you know if you find it via Google it MUST be true) I’ve learned that Yasmin is one of the most fallible pills available. In women with PCOS, it usually helps achieve pregnancy. HUH? Yeah. It binds the testosterone and androgen that are so problematic for PCOS-ers. That lets the estrogen get a leg up. Wham bam, you’re knocked up. I’m sure it’s not that easy….. But for all intents and purposes, it could have happened. So, there’s where I am…..I either AM preggo, or I just get to FEEL preggo. How’s that for screwed? I feel like death, but I don’t know why. Is it for a baby’s sake, in which case WOO HOO!!?? Or is it just more side effects along an already bumpy path? Who knows.
Now, here’s the rub. Do I continue on this pill if these are side effects? I mean, they really aren’t pleasant. But if Yasmin will help me get pregnant, excellent, I’ll do it. Clomid is worse and other things are….worser? Not a word, but effective. So, I get to choose. Feel pregnant but not be, and start this fun TTC journey. Or, go off Yasmin and never know. Good grief, I think I have an answer there, don’t I? I was NOT anticipating thinking about a baby this in-depth at this point. Because my mommy has told me how it feels. Other women get the “how to make a baby” talk from their mommies. I got the “how if feels when the whole world has a baby and you can’t make one” talk. Actually, I am SOOOOOO glad she prepared me for this. I do not know what I would do if I had to face it blind like Mom did. But, I think maybe we’re here. We’re not quite TTC….we’re more like visiting the travel agent, getting ready to TTC. Big step. It already sucks, btw. Of course, if I turn up positive on Monday, this will be one useless blog….. I’m probably going to test on Wednesday, FYI.
Well, I feel better. Lots better. And no one had to suffer. I figure I’ll share this journal on a need to know basis. I’ll make it public for now, but my friends and family don’t really know that I have a livejournal, so no big deal. I’d love for it to be a resource for others, but I will not do anything for that sole purpose. This is my hiding place. You are welcome to join me here, but know that I need this so very badly.
If you made it through that, thank you from the bottom of my heart, and welcome. If you didn’t, no big deal. Welcome anyway 🙂 This is a Getting Ready To Try To Conceive blog, I think. Is there a community out there for “Almost”?