What’s an injectable?

Well, my husband and I have made a decision. I’m done with Clomid.

I say that, though if the option of stair-stepping with a lower dose is available, I’d try that. But if that isn’t on the table, I am done with Clomid.

I had my CD 12 ultrasound and bloodwork done this morning, as I requested. Originally, I wouldn’t have had this until at least CD 24. Remember the last time I spoke with my nurse and she said “I just know you won’t have to stair-step this time,” and I said, “How do you know” and she said, “I just know”? Yeah – she was wrong. As of this moment, I have zero follicles developing.

It wasn’t as upsetting as it was frustrating. I know my body – on Clomid, I only ovulate when there are two doses in one cycle. That’s it – it doesn’t matter the dosage, it only works the second time. So on 150 mg, as the first round of Clomid this cycle, it didn’t work.

And, also as I predicted, the nurse who called me this afternoon said that my doctor would like to have me stair-step, again, now up to 200 mg. And that’s where I drew the line.

#1 – I can’t ever be sure, but I believe that the serious depression and lack of rational thinking that occurred this past weekend had everything to do with this high dosage of Clomid. I was not myself at all, and since then I’ve completely snapped out of it and felt so much better.

#2 – I am sick and tired of 60 day cycles. I understand I should be grateful to have cycles, and I am, but really – I don’t have cycles, unless I’m on Clomid. Even with Clomid, it’s 60 days. So perhaps there are other options out there?

The nurse who called (a nice one, not my usual) confirmed that she has heard people say Clomid causes severe mood swings, and that yes, there are other options.

So here’s the plan as of right now: Even though I had no follies developing, apparently my estrogen was really high. I have no idea what this means, or if this is a bad thing, but the doctor would like me to do another blood test in 2 days. So it’s back there I go on Thursday, before work, mind you, a 40 minute drive. And of course, I can’t be late for work with 23 kids waiting for me, so I have to make sure to get my blood done right away. You know what time I was there this morning for a 7:00 opening? 6:30 – and there was still one person in front of me. Crazy.

After the blood test Thursday, I will get another phone call, and in this call I will request an appointment with my doctor. I’m done with Clomid – what’s next?

The nurse did mention injectables. She said some people don’t like to take them (not sure why?) but they don’t cause the mood swings like Clomid does. Sign me up.

She did not mention Fermara. I will bring that up at our appointment we have to make, as I am willing to try it. However, I’m also willing to try injectables.

Only thing is – what, exactly, are injectables?

Are they the shots, like, in the butt cheek? Or are they the suppositories some of you talk about? And how is an injectable different from a trigger shot? What do you guys know about this?

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And in other news, as you know, I love my class this year. I will definitely miss them, as they make me laugh, and are so good-natured and spirited. This week, they are also proving to be very giving.

There is a student in my classroom whose mother has recently been diagnosed with a pretty severe, rare autoimmune disease. My school is putting on a fundraiser, a competition called “Penny Wars”. Basically, it’s every class against each other. Each week, we collect pennies, or any money, and there are weekly prizes for the class with the most money. First week’s prize is breakfast with donuts and juice. Then, there is a grand prize for the class with the most money raised overall – a pizza party.

Last Friday, I sat down with my class, and with the student’s help whose mother is sick, we explained the fundraiser. I stressed two important things: #1 – no one has to give money, especially when money is tight. If they happen to have any spare change, great, but no worries otherwise. #2 – on the other hand, I said, it would be pretty awesome to win the school competition – since the student is in our classroom. We have to represent her! After my speech, telling them we would start officially yesterday, students went rushing to their backpacks, giving whatever change they had right away. It was darn cute.

However, I am most touched by yesterday and today’s actions. In 2 days, my class has raised $170. 2 days. The kids, and their parents, are being so generous and kind. We all had a blast today counting the money, and the kids got very excited. They are owning this competition, and the cause it surrounds.  We are hoping to win this week, for sure, but the big goal would be to win the whole thing, and be able to present my student’s mother with a bucket-load of money. It’s just one of those nice, touching moments with kids, reminding me how much I do love children – they can be so very kind, with no reservations.

It’s definitely one of the highlights of this school year, and it takes my mind off of IF, for which I am grateful.

 

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This is your brain on drugs…

First of all, thanks for all the nice comments over my last few posts. They were much appreciated and helpful!

I am convinced that Clomid, this round, acted like a crazy drug (well, I guess it kind of is) and completely changed me. I have never felt – like I felt. It feels hard to describe but I’m going to attempt anyway.

The only side effect of Clomid I had ever felt, up until this point, was hot flashes, and that occurred at 50, 100, and 150 mg, with the hot flashes increasing as the dosage went up. That was really about it.

For whatever reason, when I took 150 mg the first time, as a Round 2 dose in the same cycle as my 100 mg pills, still, I only had hot flashes, whereas now…well, now it’s totally different.

Thankfully, it’s over. I feel like I just woke up from the 7th circle of hell. You know my whiny, ranting, rather depressed previous posting(s)? That night all the way through to last night, I felt – off. I wasn’t crying (well, only once), but I was walking around in a zombie-like state, feeling sorry for myself. But not like…normal, “Oh, whoa is me, I have infertility issues” – no, it was way past that. It was…dark. I guess I really can’t explain it, except to say that I felt and acted seriously depressed. Like, if that kept up I’d need to go see someone soon, kind of depressed. It wasn’t even about not being pregnant anymore – I didn’t even know what I was depressed about. Babies weren’t even on my mind – which was a sign to me that something was very much off. I didn’t want to do anything, I was overly emotional, and I felt awful about myself. I didn’t sleep well, I had limited social interactions with my friends – it was really, freaking weird.

A lot of you have said many times that Clomid messed with your emotions, too, except you frequently mentioned yelling and screaming and crying a lot. None of that happened for me. Instead, I think it took my normal emotions, even including my OCD and anxiety-filled tendencies (which are minor when I’m not hooked on Clomid), and made them 100x stronger.

I guess what I’m saying is, I have never felt more depressed in my entire life. And then, last night, while at a bonfire with N’s relatives (more on that in a minute), one of my students who lives next door to N’s aunt came over with her parents, and I sat and chatted with them for a few hours around the fire. I enjoyed seeing my student and talking with her parents, and as we said good-bye, I suddenly started to feel – lighter. More chippy. Like, functional. N noticed the change, too. As I went to bed, I wondered if my new back-to-normal mood would resume in the morning, or if I’d wake up today back in the funk.

This morning, I woke up at 6:15, jumped out of bed, and was ready to start the day. I’ve been in a normal, good mood all day long, being productive with 5,000 chores and loads of laundry. I applied for a summer job, I cut up a watermelon, I watered the plants – life is good today. Just like that, I feel like a completely different person – but the person I’m supposed to be. This weekend (and, really, a few days before that) – that was not me. So whoever I saw and spoke to during that time, disregard our conversations. I felt like I was looking down from above at myself, talking. I couldn’t even think rational thoughts on Friday night – my brain was spinning.

I have to assume it was the Clomid. It started around my second pill and heightened the next night even more. Up until this point, I thought Clomid side effects hung out all month long – as my hot flashes do. Hopefully not. I am going to speak with my nurse about it on Tuesday, when I am going in for a CD 12 u/s and b/w. If I have a next cycle – I’m not sure I want to do that ever again. Like, even getting pregnant wouldn’t be worth feeling that low. It was really horrible. And to think, my Dr. prescribes 200 and 250 mg of Clomid if needed. I can tell you right now that 150 is too high for me. I’d be willing to try 100 again, I guess – but I’m worried that I can no longer ovulate on lower dosages. Which means I may need a new drug altogether.

The only little glitch in my mind has to do with my controlling personality. I feel the need to have complete control over myself at all times. If I’m upset, I talk myself out of it. I’m constantly, even subconsciously, reflecting on my interactions with other people. So, when this happened in the last few days, I had a hard time convincing myself a drug was causing this. Instead, I assumed I was going off the deep end, and was fighting to keep in control. After losing that battle, I started to blame Clomind – but what if it wasn’t the Clomid? What if that was really me, and it’s going to come back? So, it’s a little scary.

Luckily, I have you all here to confirm the best, or worst news. What are your Clomid horror stories?

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Now, as a little sequel to the story of N’s family’s friend, who made those comments last week on Mother’s Day, my mind may have been changed.

Long story short, N told me that his mother told him that his aunt spoke to this man, told him more about my situation, and he felt terrible. Okay, I thought. I’m not mad at him – like, I don’t hate the guy. It just wasn’t his brightest move. Then, at the bonfire last night, I’m in the house alone with N’s aunt and she says, almost angrily, “I just want you to know that I would never tell anyone about your situation. ____ didn’t know. He had no idea.” Now, I said in that post that he knew. I thought he did. I wrongly assumed he did know, because N’s family talks about things, in front of a lot of people, and N’s mom had told N’s aunt before I could, so I just..I just assumed. I wasn’t pointing my finger at any one person, though. I just figured he found out somehow – and I wasn’t even upset if he did know. So anyway, N’s aunt was kind of upset that I actually believed she might have spilled my little secret to this man, and I think she was hurt. I felt bad because…I shouldn’t have assumed. My bad.

Then, she went on to say that this man still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the situation. In my head, I’m wondering why my husband told me that the man had been told the situation and felt horrible about it. Something is amiss. So I have no idea if this man 1) knows about our infertility, knows he hurt me, and feels bad, 2) knows he hurt me, but doesn’t know why, or 3) doesn’t know anything and hasn’t given it another thought.

Interestingly enough, he showed up to the bonfire last night, there was a quick hug, and that was it. Nothing was said. And now I don’t want to bring it up because I don’t know..what he already knows.

What a stupid situation. It left me feeling badly for him and N’s aunt, and then I remembered I didn’t do anything wrong.

I’ll keep you updated after we get a little look at my follies on Tuesday, and hopefully I’ll continue to be a normal, sane, happy person.

 

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

Welp, Mother’s Day kicked my ass.

See, the ironic thing about it is – I was prepared to have a perfectly nice day! I wasn’t upset – I feel too far away from a mom to be upset, plus, I’ve already been upset all weekend because of this failed cycle and getting my period…so there probably wasn’t too much farther down I could go. So I was good – we planned a dinner for my mother (which N cooked, of course), and we had a lunch out with N’s family as well. Really, it could have been a happy-go-lucky day.

Unfortunately, someone’s insensitivity kind of ruined the go-with-the-flow mood I woke up with. The title of this post is a phrase I have heard over and over again since elementary school. Apparently this person was absent on those school days.

This man I’m about to talk about is a family friend of N’s aunt. We see him on holidays; up until the last two times I’ve seen him, he’s been really quite nice. He’s a nice guy, is what I’m saying. I’ve got nothing against him.

Now, this is the man who, on Easter, as I was snuggling one of my dogs, said out loud in front of N’s family, “See? You don’t need kids – you have dogs!” That was irritating enough, especially because he knows my situation. I didn’t tell him, but I know that he knows.

Yesterday, as he and his gf arrive at the restaurant, he gives me a hug and says loudly, “Do I need to be wishing you a Happy Mother’s Day, too?” I couldn’t believe it. He laughed, really loudly, as I said, “No! And if you do, I might cry, so please don’t.” You’d think me saying that would give the hint not to ask me about it. Not only that, but what if I was pregnant? Did he think I’d choose that moment, in a “hello” embrace to announce to my in-laws that I was pregnant? Just because he asked?

So I was kind of miffed throughout the lunch, even making a comment to my MIL about how that was a tad bit insensitive, of which she agreed. But I moved on and enjoyed the meal. At the end, as he was leaving, he said goodbye to our whole big table. He offered up a, and I quote, “Happy Mother’s Day – and you Megan, well, Happy Mother’s Day…soon? Hopefully in the future? Sometime? Not for a while? Hopefully soon…” And as he’s going on this rant, in front of everyone, I just kind of looked up at the ceiling and I recall saying something like, “I have no words….” And I didn’t. I was almost speechless, kind of in shock. I just did not know how to respond. After the comment he made when he walked in, and the one on Easter…I’m not sure I want to be around this guy anymore until I actually have a good announcement to make. Yuck. It did kind of dampen my spirits, I have to admit. I just wanted to forget about my own problems and focus on my mother and MIL. But he, so kindly, had to bring my lack of a pregnancy back to life.

Okay, this isn’t the only reason I posted. I also have news, for what very little news it is, but hey, something to talk about.

My nurse called today. I’m supposed to start Clomid tomorrow. It went something like this:

“Megan? I spoke with the doctor. He says you didn’t ovulate on 100 mg (yes I did, just in a stair-step, not on its own), so he would like you to start up with the 150 mg, like you just ovulated with.”

“Okay, well…what happens when I have to stair-step? I was hoping not to have to go up to 200 mg.”

“You won’t have to stair-step.”

“I’m sure I will, I always have to. The first round isn’t going to work.”

“It IS going to work. It’s going to work, okay?”

“Oh…okay then. Thanks.”

I was at a Starbucks and couldn’t think of exactly what to say to her at that moment, but my question is: did she say I wouldn’t have to stair-step, and that I’d have a normal length cycle this time because…..science told her so? Or because she’s being optimistic and therefore wouldn’t address my question? Because I’m all about science…but I’m supposed to have the hope. Not my nurse..she needs to have the meds.

So, with that said, I’m starting Clomid, Round 8,071 – I mean 4 (6 counting the times I didn’t ovulate) tomorrow, as CD 5, heading towards IUI #2. Yippee. Looking forward to hot flashes and mood swings, usually swinging more down than up. We’ll see, 55 days from now, how long this cycle turns out to be.

 

Pissed.

I’m spotting. And not in the good, implantation kind of way.

And yes, I’m also pissed off. I’m going through the stages of grief, rapid-fire.

Up until about 20 minutes ago, I was still in denial. The spotting that started last night was super light, so hey, maybe, just maybe, right? It’s still possible. Then, after taking a pregnancy test, because today, I just really need an answer, I moved straight into the anger stage. Of course it’s negative, and then, not more than 5 minutes after that, the spotting turned red. I expect a full period by tomorrow.

Anger is currently where my mind resides, or at least most of the time. But literally, within seconds of each other, I’m thinking thoughts that could easily fit into the other grief categories of bargaining, depression, and yes, even acceptance. That last one only held one stray thought, but I guess it’s better than none.

But mostly, what I’m currently thinking and feeling is that I HATE this. I hate the process, I hate the disappointment, I hate how behind everyone else I feel, I hate how hurt I feel in situations that I really shouldn’t, I hate the multiple doctors, the appointments, peeing on a stick obsessively, taking my temperature every morning. I hate dreaming about babies, knowing what absolutely wonderful parents N and I would make, not knowing how long this is going to take, not knowing how many more of these cycles I can tolerate without totally losing my shit. I hate how optimism is slowly fading away – not that I don’t think I’ll ever have a child, I still do have hope there, but just the hope that “this cycle might be the one”. No – it’s not the one, so don’t even tell me that. And most likely, neither will the next one be. I’m sick of being bitter, but I can’t turn back time and be naive and innocent – “Oh YAY! We’re officially TTC!!!” Screw it! It’s been almost a year, and I know many of you have been through longer, but even still. I’m just – done. Can we file adoption papers yet?

N had an outstanding sperm count, the IUI timing was perfect. We continued to try in the appropriate window even after that. Why, why, why do these things not work? Why??? I need a scientific reason!

My nurse will be hearing from me very soon, as I have many questions I need answered. Pronto. One of the hardest things is that my cycles are 60 days long. Being that I only ovulate if I stair-step Clomid, one cycle is 2 months long, not one. So when I get my period, I realize that I have to wait another 60 days to find out if that cycle was a success. 28-30 days – now that sounds like a dream. I can wait one month, but I can’t wait two. That and, maybe Clomid isn’t the answer if I always need to double-dose it. I don’t know.

As rant-y as this post is, I am actually way better than last time. Just as I promised, I kept my mind off it during the 1.5 week wait. I didn’t obsess, I didn’t Google, and I told myself it’s not going to happen. So, I’m angry, but not devastated. I’m not in shock, like I was last time. Now I’ve got a bad case of bitterness instead. I’m not sure which one I prefer!

So, I’m going to retreat into the couch tonight and try to stay away from the chips and salsa I stuffed myself with after taking the pregnancy test. Comfort food is called just that for a reason, you know. And it totally works.

The only brightness in my day was this:

These were given to me by my students, 10 and 11 year old’s. It’s Teacher Appreciation Week, and while I would never expect anything, and don’t need anything, to have my kids shower me with these flowers, a stuffed animal, a basket full of supplies, caring notes and dressing up in my favorite color (purple)…I do feel loved. I have an awesome class. I really will miss them next year.

7 DPO, and 7 random facts

After a week-long hiatus, I’m back. I wonder if you guys go through the same type of cycles (no, not those cycles) that I go through – a few months ago, in obsession mode, I would blog multiple times a week. I just wanted to keep talking about getting pregnant, again and again. Now, after some disappointment, I find myself having little desire to post, not because of all of you, but because, honestly, what is there to say? However, I do enjoy blogging, and I enjoy keeping up with all of you as well, so an update once a week is the least I could do.

My update is rather boring. I am 7 DPO, “enjoying” life in the TWW. Everything’s going along as planned, as of now, but it’s so early. Here’s my chart:

Looking at the date at the top of that chart makes me laugh with frustration. I cannot stand how long my cycles are, because of the stair-stepping. I understand that in order for me to ovulate, I have to take Clomid twice in one cycle. But those first 30 days are just unfair. If this cycle is a bust, I am absolutely calling my RE and asking if there’s anything else that can be done with Clomid so my cycles aren’t this long.

But I try not to focus on that part right now, because I am in the TWW, and grateful to be so. I am temping again, everyday, because I am curious to see what my temp does. I’d love a huge drop in temp, like, tomorrow, only to have it rise again the next day. That would be pretty telling, I think.

This cycle has been the first time ever that I have gone all of these 49 days rarely thinking about all of this. I successfully have put my thoughts elsewhere, and only really consider TTC or ovulation a few times a day, rather than a few times an hour. It’s a big improvement. I’m not sure why this happened, exactly, but I think it has something to do with me not feeling like blogging. When I blog, it’s on my mind.

The interesting thing is, this TWW has been very mentally relaxing for me, like I said. I’m really not thinking about it. True to my word, there has been no Googling, and I’m just ignoring the few “symptoms” that I have, knowing they are simply from the progesterone. I’m really fine.

But then it dawned on me this morning – secretly, in the back of my mind, I have been telling myself that maybe, if I don’t think about the TWW and I chill out, maybe I’ll be rewarded with a BFP. Because that would play out like a fairytale. Don’t think about it, and then your wishes come true. We all know that no matter how you handle the TWW in your brain (and now I’ve been on both sides of that coin), it has absolutely no effect on what the turnout will be! My body already knows if I’m pregnant or not, and I just have to wait it out. So..really, not thinking about it isn’t putting me any closer to a BFP, but it might be saving my sanity just a little bit.

And so there are other things on my mind. This past week at school was very busy. We had two field trips, with yesterday’s being one of those good, long ones on the coach buses, and we left school very early and arrived back very late. It was a good time. I dragged N along (not really dragged; he enjoys it) as a chaperone and he took a little group of 4 of my boys. He’s great with them, which I already knew.

On the way home (a 2.5 hour bus ride), I sat with various students up and down the bus, just to check on things and talk about their day. In the back of the bus, my girls were hyped up on sugar (parents give them gift shop money…and they buy candy) and happy and bouncy. I stayed with them for a few minutes. The two chaperones back there each commented on my “way” with the kids, with a father asking me if I had my own and that the kids love me, and a mother commenting that I’m a natural with kids. Then, one of the girls spilled soda all over the bus floor – haha. Never a dull moment.

Making my way up the bus, I sat with a few more girls, and a few boys. Gimping (remember gimp?) is all the rage in my class right now for some reason, and I have to admit, it does help pass the time. So I was taught to gimp yesterday, and did so while talking with the kids. I commented to a few kids how I do tend to be sad at the end of a good school year, but proud all at the same time. It’s not every year I get students that I might wish to call my own children, that I wouldn’t mind watching grow up to be productive members of society. But this year, I do have those students. I hope to go to their high school graduation, someday. A boy asked me if I thought my students were my children, since I didn’t have any of my own. I realized he was exactly right. The whole reason I get attached to my students sometimes is because they are filling this huge void. A huge void. And it takes a couple of awesome kids, leaving my room and going on to another school next year, to remind me just how big the hole is. I want children. I want children who turn out to be like these children; kind, respectful, giving, funny – and all while going through the perils of being eleven years old. I bring N on field trips, and he enjoys himself too, because he also has this void. We love kids. We are good with them. We like to be around them. It’s frankly a bit sad, and in the pathetic way, that I do use my students like this, emotionally, to help me through my days without kids. They are my children, right now, and I treat them as such. Makes the end of June a lot harder for me, but it saves me from September up until then. It doesn’t mean they don’t drive me crazy, often, and we are still barreling through our lessons. But overall, it’s been a very good year with this class, and I will definitely miss them.

Moving on – the Paleo diet is waning. I realized that when I was doing full Paleo, and my snacks were consisting of full bell peppers and endless amounts of nuts, my stomach wasn’t happy with me, at all. Then, after being frustrated at the end of the week about how little I could eat, I’d splurge on something – say, Mexican food, and eat until I thought I might die. (Sidebar – both last time in the TWW and this time, I have noticed my appetite increase about a thousand-fold. Just me?) That’s not good either. So, a few days ago I went out and bought a couple of things, just to make my diet tolerable. I bought cheese, gluten-free pasta, rice cereal..that sort of thing. As long as my health is in order, I really don’t need to be on any particular diet. I just need to not eat what bothers me, and what bothers me is too much dairy, sugar, too much fruit, gluten, and corn (ish…this one is hard to let go because it replaces so many floury things). I still will eat a lot of veggies and meat, but the nuts are hurting my stomach and I simply need other options. I’m good with that. Now, I haven’t lost any weight because of all this garbage I’ve been eating the last few days…and I’m not exercising. For no good reason besides pure laziness.

Finally, thefamilyvan was kind enough to send me The Lovely Blog Award a week ago, which I’ve been very behind on answering. I appreciate the gesture! Here’s how it works:

1. Share who gave you this award to you with a link back to their blog
2. Write down 7 random facts about yourself.
3. Give this award to 15 other bloggers. It’s going to take me a little bit of time to find out which blogs I follow haven’t already done this, so when I find you, I will comment on your blog!
4. Let them know they’ve won
5. Pop the award on your blog (Did I miss this? Where is it?)

Hmm…7 random facts about myself:

1) I LOVE marshmallow (back when I was allowed to eat it). I could eat a whole jar of fluff with a spoon, and when I got ice cream sundaes, instead of hot fudge which would keep me up all night, I’d have marshmallow topping. Yum.

2) Whale-watching is my favorite thing to do on the Cape. I’ve been on 3 or 4 whale watches in my life,with the best one occurring when I was probably about 13 or so. This humpback whale stopped to play right under the boat, so the boat sat there for a good half hour, not moving, while this whale swam back and forth underneath us. At one point, I ran to the back of the boat, where no one else was, and looked over the edge, staring at the whale’s back. I was so close I could’ve reached out and touched it, and it was covered with scratches and bumps from a life in the ocean. After that experience I was hooked on whales. They are very cool, prehistoric animals.

3) I’ve known I wanted to be an elementary school teacher as far back as I can remember. I do recall having my own little chalkboard and playing teacher, and then relished every time my mother (a high school teacher) allowed me to help correct her papers with the red pen, or even better, put stickers on something. At the time, I thought the best part of being a teacher would be correcting papers, getting to use any color marker you wanted, putting on stickers every single time, and passing them back. Ha.

4) I was born a Yankees fan, because my father is a huge Yankees fan, and both of my parents grew up in Yankee territory. Our state is unique – it’s split about half and half, Red Sox and Yankees. One time, in junior high, there was a play-off Yankee game on, but I couldn’t stay up that late to watch it. My dad promised that if the Yankees won that night, he would leave me his good Yankee hat for me to wear to school, which he had never done before. The next morning, I came down the stairs and the hat was sitting there, with a sign taped to the door that said, “Theeeeee Yankees win! Wear the hat with pride!” And I did. Now, I’ve married a die-hard Red Sox fan, with his entire family behind him, and these days, the passion of liking the Yankees isn’t there like it used to be. I have a feeling our children will be Red Sox children. That said, I did wear my Yankees hat yesterday on the field trip, and N wore his Red Sox hat. It brought up a lot of baseball conversations with the kids.

5) (Back to sugar again – can you tell I miss it?) Prior to no longer eating sugar, I was known, quite famously in my family, as a sugar-aholic. My aunts still remind me (not like I’ve forgotten) how our gatherings would go when I was in elementary school: “Mom, is it dessert time yet? Mom? Mommy? Can I have this – and this and this? Mom, how much can I have? Mom, can I have more?” Seriously, this was what I did. I’d sneak to the dessert table and consume some before dessert even started and no one noticed. We had ice cream every night in my house after dinner – and not a while after dinner, as my husband would prefer. No, as soon as the last bite of the meal was down our throats (see, it wasn’t just me), we’d be up spooning ice cream into bowls. My mother had to inflict an “every other night” rule when I was little. Also, a “two-cookies-is-enough” Oreo rule after school.

6) I had my first boyfriend in the sixth grade. I had known him ever since first grade, and he was one of the smartest in my class. (I always said – I picked all the smartest kids to be my friends. Unfortunately, I was the dumbest one amongst us). We “dated” that year, quite publicly – I believe even the teachers knew, and no one tried to stop us. “Dating”, of course, consisted of us calling each other on the phone every other night (thanks, Mom), from 7:00-7:30. During those calls, we talked about the Yankees (also a big fan) and Jurassic Park. I broke up with him in 7th grade, as soon as I laid my eyes on N, but luckily, he and I, and N, continued to stay friends, and he was one of the groomsmen in our wedding. He is now a doctor and we see him whenever he’s in town.

7) I played the part of Maria in West Side Story (only in the final song, though) in our massive 180-strong chorus production my junior year of high school. It was my shining moment, along with, as a senior, singing the national anthem at my graduation with a few others. Chorus was my life in high school, and I got my 15 minutes of fame back then. Now, I desperately miss big productions like that, and really wish to find a chorus for 27-year olds who wish to be 20 again.

Phew! Long post. That’s what happens when I wait a whole week. Thanks for all of your supporting comments regarding my IUI, much appreciated! Next time I post – I’ll probably have news. Let’s hope it’s something good.

Turkey Basting

Well, it’s official:

I’ve been inseminated.

So romantic, right? Actually, it is. Having sperm and egg meet up and create a life is damn romantic, so I do not care how I get to that point.

Frankly, I was elated to get here. Today is CD 42, or I suppose, CD 21. I got a smiley face last night on my OPK, and I had a feeling I would, because as always, I get some crazy cramping going on and it’s very uncomfortable.

This morning we went in for my first IUI (thank goodness it’s Saturday – so much easier not to have to take time off work), N did his thing. They told us later that they wanted somewhere between 5-10 million in the sperm count. N’s count? 130 million. Yup, I’ll take that. The nurse said if we were to keep that piece of paper saying that, we should hang it up on the fridge. The highest count she’s seen in a while. There were other stats too, and he was way ahead of them all. I just couldn’t stop thinking about 130 million. That’s a lot of swimmers. Granted, that was the total count, but still. I think there were 47 million post wash, or whatever. That’s a lot.

Then, we went out to breakfast, did a little shopping (love me some Charming Charlie) and went back for my turn. After adjusting the catheter just a bit, we were good to go. Turkey basting commenced. No leakage or spotting after, either.

We’re going to give it a go tonight and tomorrow anyway, just in case. In fact, the nurse did an ultrasound first, saw my follicle, and then saw another one, pretty decent sized. She said, “It’s only an additional 10% chance, but would you guys be okay with twins?” Yes, yes we would.

So I’m in the TWW. And this time, I’m doing things differently. This whole cycle has been different – I have only temped on and off, and mentally I have not really been thinking about it – not like I usually do. I will not Google a damn thing, I swear. And if I do – you have every right to yell at me. I’ll listen to the second half of my Circle and Bloom tapes, because I’ve been stuck on CD 13 for oh, about 30 days. I stopped listening to it.

I’m not saying it’s definitely going to work. But it’s my third chance, and damn, it would be amazing if it took. I’ll keep you posted.

Blame it on the hormones.

Okay, kids, I’m climbing out of the weirdness that has been my personality for the last 40 days.

I’m going to go ahead and blame it on the hormones. Let me explain.

Here’s something you didn’t know about me: I went on the pill about a year after I started my period, which was age 11, 6th grade. My periods were very heavy, long, and I got two of them each month. Since the BCP cleared up my acne and then I started having sex at 17, I just stayed on the pill the entire time – from age 12-26.

During that time, especially after I started having sex, I noticed that I had zero sex drive. It became an unfortunate part of who I was – I never had a sex drive. It was a rarity for me to initiate, because I had no desire until I was already involved. Luckily, my boyfriend-now-husband has always been very patient, but sometimes weeks/months would go by, and that was hard for him, too. In addition, I didn’t find people attractive. Let me clarify – I have always been attracted to my husband, and that started the day I met him at age 12. But….if we passed a good-looking guy on the street, I would recognize that he might be good-looking, but I wouldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t spout off a list of people I thought were attractive, because I didn’t have this list.

I considered both of these traits to be just who I was. I didn’t like that about myself but there was really nothing I could do about it. There was a lot of anxiety in college regarding all of that, for sure. When I went off the pill, I had heard I might start having a sex drive, because a lot of people did. But it really didn’t change. I suppose slightly. But not much.

Now, I’m on 150 mg of Clomid. My hot flashes continue to get worse, as I knew they would after upping my dosage for the third time. I wake up a few times a night, dying of heat, only to be cold five minutes later. It happens at school, too, and I throw the windows open and freeze my students. Those suck. In addition, I am noticing that when I’m far from ovulation, I’m much moodier, and more down in the dumps. As ovulation approaches, I start to just…feel like I have more energy, and I’m happier. I’m sure part of that is I’m excited to ovulate, and glad that I am. But more than that, I bet you it’s the hormones from the Clomid.

There has been one noticeable perk from my new hormones. Yes, more of a sex drive. Not only that, but all of a sudden, and for the first time in my life, I’m attracted to, like, everyone. Especially in TV shows. It started with Henry Cavill from The Tudors, and then swept to Cory Monteith on Glee, Dev from Smash, Zac Efron in The Lucky One..or anything, and of course, Josh Hutcherson from The Hunger Games. Look at that list! I’m proud of that list, as weird as that may be. I’ve never had a list. I’ve never…felt hormonal things. I’ve loved my husband through and through, and that has helped when the hormones weren’t there. But this..this is what I’ve been missing throughout my teenage years, and now I feel like it’s spinning out of control! It’s funny, really. I feel like a 14-year old girl trapped in a 27-year old’s body. This must be what it feels like for a normal teenager. And now, years too late, here I am, feeling hormonal.

I mention all of this for a reason. First of all, I’m upset that I never made a big stink about this to a doctor when I was a teenager. I never looked into why this might be happening. I questioned my love for my husband, love for anyone, really, and just chalked it up to me being…not a normal teenager. This would have been a major sign, along with my irregular periods, that something was wrong in my body hormonally. Do I think that is one piece of the infertility puzzle for me? Yes, I do. I wish that I had known sooner.

In addition, like I said before, I’ve been just..down now, for 40 days. 40, of course, because that’s how long it’s been since my last period. With this whole stair-stepping thing, which apparently double-dosing it is here to stay, each cycle is 50+ days long. I started Clomid in December, it’s almost May, and I’ve gotten my period twice. The waiting is extra long for me, I feel like. Today is CD 39, or, after the new round of Clomid, CD 18. But for those first 35 days now for two cycles, I feel down. I am frustrated, as any person would be, but I’m betting that Clomid has something to do with it as well. Every emotion, good or bad, feels heightened.

So there are perks to Clomid, but then there are reasons why it sucks, too. As of right now, though, the pros outweigh the cons: I’ve ovulated twice, hopefully three times soon, and prior to that..I didn’t.

No, I didn’t get my smiley face yet. I’ve having some cramping, and so I’m just praying that in the next few days it happens. I’ll go in for the IUI, and enjoy my third ever TWW.

Until then, with my spirits hopefully lifted a bit, I’ll do more research on my new diet. Paleo is okay, and I feel decent on it, but still having some stomach issues. I’ve just heard about the low amylose diet for PCOS – can anyone help out and tell me more about this?