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.

 

Being a mother – through nature or nurture.

Well, I’ve reached the final stage of grief after that last 60-day cycle: acceptance. And on Mother’s Day, no less, which I will call an accomplishment.

I’m good, I’m over it. It sucks, for sure, to know I won’t know if I’m pregnant next cycle for another 2 months, but I try not to think about that. The fact of the matter is, I got my period three days ago, and now I’m moving on. On to the next cycle.

I am a little concerned about the plan. I called the nurse on CD 1, and she was out, and a substitute nurse tried to answer my questions. She didn’t know my story, but to make a long one short, she basically told me that people with anovulation as their diagnosis (still not hearing PCOS, but I know it’s there) have to have an extra dose of patience (ha!) because everything just takes a long time. I said, I understand that, but I only ovulate if I stair-step Clomid (take a second dose in the same cycle) – do a lot of other people do the same thing? Yes, she said, they do. She was kind enough to say a few kind words, such as, “I know how hard this must be for you,” which is something my regular nurse never does. But she checked my chart, said the doctor wants me to continue as I have been, and that’s it.

I guess I can continue with the double cycle thing. I hate most of all that they are 2 months long, but that’s only because I don’t ovulate the first time! What I am concerned about is the dosage of Clomid. I feel like the doctor hasn’t been paying attention. When I started Clomid, I did ovulate on 50 mg. Then, after my period, I required my first stair-step, from 50 to 100 mg. Then, on the next cycle, I needed to stair-step again, from 100 to 150 mg. Now, here I am, no doubt I’ll be starting on 150…and it won’t work, and they’ll put me on 200 mg. But I don’t want to go to 200 mg. The hot flashes and emotional ups and downs get worse with each increase in dosage. Doesn’t he see that I did ovulate on 50, 100, and 150? I just needed a double dose to do so. So I proposed (in a voicemail to my nurse) that if I have to stair-step again, which I’m sure I will, I start at 150, fine, sure, but then the second round, I do 150 again. Or even 100. Why go to 200? Anyway, I expect to hear about that tomorrow, as I need to start Clomid on Tuesday.

So that’s enough about that. As I did last cycle, I’m taking a Fertility Friend break – no temping, no any of that. I know the current situation well enough on my own. And now I feel like I’m getting pretty good at being able to tell when ovulation is coming, so I don’t really intend to temp until the week of ovulation. If that. I may just say, screw it this cycle. Let’s try a round without charting. I’m sick of being obsessive – that dies out pretty quick when you only ovulate every 2 months and that fails, again and again.

I’m also at a place, mentally, that I get to every cycle around this time. Shoot, if I can’t be pregnant, I might as well look good. Which means lose weight. I’m not overweight, really. BMI is still in the normal range. However, for my clothes, for my normal, I’m a good 15 pounds heavier than I should be. My jeans that used to require a good strong belt, now requires nothing and is frankly tight. But it’s not just the looks. I swear, I wonder if being 15 pounds overweight has anything to do with not getting pregnant. A lot of people say, once they do lose the weight it happens. Also, with PCOS symptoms…I feel like losing weight right now would be the #1 smartest thing I could do for myself.

Unfortunately, I SUCK at willpower. Really, really bad. I have cut out gluten and sugar from my diet, but only like…98% of the time. Eating gluten is just plain stupid – I end up with horrible stomach pains the next day. Eating sugar is equally stupid, I come out with massive lip hives that take 24 hours to go away, as I found out two nights ago from eating 1, just 1, delicious meringue at a wedding shower at my school. Between the hives and the IBS problems, you’d think I could keep away from those two things.

But it’s not just that. If I put my foods into a list of things I shouldn’t eat, gluten and sugar would be #s 1 and 2. However, #3 would be corn products – and I’m SUCKING OUT at that. Chips and salsa = comfort food. And corn tortillas are a nice substitute from the flour ones. #4 on the list would be processed ANYTHING. Tell that to the rice cereal with almond milk I just ate. Yum. The paleo diet got old – it just…I can only eat so many veggies, fruits, nuts, and meats. I start to lose my mind. But I need to try it again – maybe keeping dairy around this time, but it’s got to happen. Unfortunately, breakfast is already in my system so it’s going to have to wait until lunch.

But seriously, how nice would it be if I could lose this little stomach that calls attention as if I were pregnant, and people could comment not on wondering if I am expecting or not, but on how awesome I look. That would make me feel better.

I also am starting to feel like I’m getting old (tell that to the guy at Costco yesterday, when, after checking my ID while I was buying wine, proceeded to still ask me my age and stare me up and down – YES, I’m 27, I’m married, see my ring? I’m a teacher. I’m not under 21. Good god. This happens all the time, and I think I’ll post about it in the future because there have been some funny stories.) On Friday, as I do every Friday, I play with my kids at recess. Usually either basketball, racing, or, for the first time, kickball. Sprinting around those bases did a number on me, as did racing them back up to our building. I nearly had to sit down and felt dizzy. Yuck – I just watched an episode of Modern Family last night where the father can no longer stomach roller coasters because he’s getting older and that sucks. That’s how I felt – except dammit, if I’m not going to have any of my own children right now, then I want to feel like a kid myself. At least physically. I look the part, I just have some extra poundage and I can’t sprint the bases without sore legs and dizziness. So I really want to work on that. I mean, how many more years of teaching will I be able to play with my students at recess? I’d like to extend them as long as possible.

So, I’ve decided that I need to start doing things that are just for me. Every single minute of my life, I feel like, I’m doing something for someone else. Certainly, in my job, whatever I do is for 23 10 and 11 year old’s. But when I get home, before I get to change out of my clothes or go to the bathroom, I’m doing things for my dogs. Later on, I’m cleaning, straightening, organizing, making lunches, walking the dogs….and it’s the same on weekends, just add 7 loads of laundry and grocery shopping. Sure, I do watch a show once in a while, and I blog here, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

N joined a men’s softball league and I went for a few minutes the other night to check out his first game – and that, I realized, is what I need. I need to join an organization that happens after school or at night, that makes me feel as young as I look, and takes my mind off of what I can’t have. Specifically, the two organizations I want to join are a women’s softball league and a chorus. A good chorus.

Problem is, I waited too long on the softball…because I thought I might be pregnant. And the chorus – I just can’t seem to find a good one in my area. But I’ll keep looking, because right now, I feel that could really help me out.

It is Mother’s Day after all, and because I’ve never even gotten close to pregnant, I’m not upset. We got an email from our principal the other day wishing all of us, those who are moms through nature or nurture, a Happy Mother’s Day. I like that – a mother through nurture. Nurturing, guiding, and teaching 23 kids every day – yeah I guess that counts, too.

And most of all, for my own mother, as a great role model, fellow teacher, and future grandmother. 🙂

 

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?

The feelings of grief

You know what, sometimes life comes at you from unexpected angles. Sometimes, even though you know it could be worse, things in life hurt.

I was going to dedicate a whole post to this, but I can’t handle the sadness, so instead I’ll just say that my first dog, the one that I lived with when I still lived with my sister and parents, died yesterday. She was currently living with my mother, step-father, and sister, but everyone who met this dog loved her. She was bought to help my sister get over the fact that I was going to college and leaving her at 10 years old. My father picked her out and wanted her the most, first. But over time, she was my sister’s dog. Anyway, I could go on and on, but then I’d be crying, and my sister and mother reading this might be upset, so I’m not going to continue. She was 11, she was a Westie, and she had liver disease. Her name was Eva.

Of course I can’t find a single good picture, but here she is with Sadie a few years back. Eva was my first dog, and it’s really just as hard as losing a human. We are all sad, but today is a better day than yesterday, hence why I’m able to even share this with you.

Through this I have come to recognize another quality in myself I’m not fond of, but can’t even begin to change. Before I go on, I do have to say that one of my good qualities is my ability to be incredibly honest with myself. I know my feelings. I might not share them out loud all the time, but I understand myself at all times. I’m just not always happy about it. Anyway, I have come to realize that I have grieving issues. I suppose I’ve known this all along, and I haven’t given it much thought, until now. I wasn’t always like this – I never had a problem crying when it was needed, or slamming a door now and then in all my teenage angst. But now, every single time something bad happens, I go into immediate recovery mode, before there’s been any time to grieve. “It’s okay” runs through my head, no matter what, and sometimes I even say it to people who don’t have issues grieving, and in fact, it’s not okay, and it could even offend someone. I avoid situations where I might see someone upset. I avoid situations where I might get upset myself. When I cry, it’s either in front of my husband (I have no issues showing grief with him, thankfully) or by myself. I will hold myself completely together until I can be alone and then cry.

I don’t know why I am like this – there is certainly nothing wrong with showing emotions, especially grief. No one should have to hide it. But I am afraid to let it out until I am good and ready, alone. I think this is based on two factors: 1) I build up a wall. Again, not to my husband, but to many other people. And especially in public. I’m just not going to lose it in front of other people, like at work. It’s just not going to happen! And people will try to get me to crack, even sincerely, by saying, “it’s okay to cry”, etc. I get that, I know that. In fact, the more you tell me that the less likely I will do it. I just…I’m not comfortable breaking down that barrier. 2) I’m afraid that if I let it out, if I cave, then I’m really going to let it out. It’s going to break through a dam that can’t be contained. And then I’ll be miserable, and a mess. It won’t just be one tear shed.

So for all these reasons, I can’t apparently grieve appropriately in front of others, except N. And while I don’t mind holding myself together; I actually like it that way, there’s something to be said for not avoiding grief. If it’s unavoidable, I need to start facing it instead of literally running away.

This is an appropriate segway for the rest of my post. All of this TTC drama, filled with anxiety, worry, frustration, and yes, even grief, has probably contributed to my wall-building. I need to protect myself, because this process has me filled with sadness in a long-term kind of way. It doesn’t mean I’m miserable every day, but then, most days, if I think about it, I am miserable with my body and my infertility and my hives and my autoimmune issues and my allergies. If I were to show that grief every time it was felt, well then, I’d be a crappy person to be around. As it is, little bits of grief spill out, a little at a time, leading me to fear this is a permanent personality change. But I just keep in the back of my mind that when I am pregnant, and when I have my child, I will quite literally be the happiest person on the planet. And that thought keeps me going.

Yesterday, CD 24, I called the RE. I told her there was still no positive OPK, and I would like another ultrasound, please, to check on my folly. “No,” I was told, “The Dr. just wants bloodwork from you. We don’t do another ultrasound until your IUI.” And there was no fighting that. The answer was no. Not only that, but coming in today for that bloodwork was just a hair too soon. Tomorrow, they want me. So, tomorrow before work I will be racing the 40 minutes south to get my blood taken, just for them to call me a few hours later and confirm what I already know: My follicle stopped growing. I will have to stair-step, again, for the second cycle in a row. Just days ago, I was preparing for my first IUI. Now, I know it’s not happening anytime soon. How can a follicle just stop growing? It was at 16 mm, I felt the pains and everything. Now, the pains are gone. My temp is still low, so I didn’t miss it. How could I, when I have been peeing on a stick since CD 12. 12! And it’s 25!! That’s my big lesson for the next cycle – don’t start POASing until like…CD 20. It’s costing me a lot of money.

It’s also cost me an infection. I won’t get into the details, but I’m sure holding my urine every day for 4-5 hours when I really have to go isn’t healthy, and might have been a contributing factor to the other thing in my way right now. If that wasn’t the cause, it’s my candida issue, and I don’t even know which doctor to approach about that. Even if I do have an IUI in the next few days, there won’t be any BDing to go with it, and I’m pretty bummed about that. Last but not least, I have a wedding to attend Saturday night. If, by any chance, I ovulate then and need my IUI on Sunday, I can’t go. Can’t. I won’t be around. How devastating that would be, to come all this way and not be able to have that IUI. I never expected to have one on CD 30. This Friday is the last day of work before a week’s vacation – another really bad day to take off. And tomorrow is now out, of course. So that leaves Saturday. As much as I want to ovulate and have this IUI, between the infection, lack of BDing, and Saturday being the only available day to even have an IUI, in my mind, this cycle is a bust. 25 days down the tubes, just like that. If I stair-step, I’ll be moved up to 150 mg of Clomid, I’m guessing. The highest it goes. When next?

It’s just one of those days, which really, has been one of those weeks, and months, and year. I’m not a hot mess, I’m fine. I will be fine. But life is just not…where I want it to be. There’s a big piece of the puzzle missing, and I don’t know when it will be found and put back into place. And even as I go through my days, I feel that void, clear as a bell.

Because I’m in one of the moods, and sometimes, the best thing to do in this kind of a mood is embrace it, I’m putting up a song here. The lyrics don’t have anything to do with grief; in fact, it’s a love song, and I love it. But I’ve always been more of a tune person than a lyric person, and the tune lends itself quite well to my mood. Give it a listen if you’re feeling up to it, but I wouldn’t recommend it if sadness is close at hand.

The worst secret club ever.

I tend to want to blog for one of two reasons: I’m excited and want to share, or I’m down and out and want to vent. This post falls under the latter category.

Let me preface by saying this: I hate whining, I don’t like being weak, I don’t like admitting to weakness that lasts longer than one blog post. I allow myself one post at a time and that’s it for a while. So here’s my one post.

I think my follicle has frozen in time. It’s CD 23, and still, no positive OPK. First of all, the nurse on Friday swore I’d get my smiley face yesterday, as my follicle was 16 mm on Friday. Secondly, even if my follicle is just growing really, extremely slowly, I don’t want to ovulate this late! It’s too late! There’s a reason they say that ovulating really late isn’t the best thing. The latest I’ve ovulated (out of the 2 times, ha) is CD 24. But I got my smiley face for that cycle on CD 22 and 23. Now, with no smiley on CD 23, I wonder, is it ever going to come? Has my body played yet another cruel trick on me – forming and developing a follicle, giving me some signs of ovulation, getting my hopes up for this first IUI, and then deciding to freeze there? Apparently, that’s a thing.

What will come of this? Well, I’m calling tomorrow and demanding an ultrasound Wednesday. I’m sure I’ll go in, they’ll see my follicle is right where they left it Friday, and then I’ll need to stair-step again, getting more Clomid before this cycle is over. Then, I’ll have this super giant follicle, but I’ll have to wait another 20+ days to get it. Doesn’t it say something if you have to stair-step two cycles in a row? And on different dosages of Clomid, no less? That’s a sign. One round of Clomid in a cycle isn’t enough – of either 50 or 100. I need something else. I do know about those injectables – maybe that’s something they would give to me?

But either way – and here comes my rant – it’s not freaking fair! Not that I’m not ovulating, though that isn’t either. It’s not fair that I have to go through any of this. It’s not fair that any of you have to. It’s not fair that this rough little bump in my life has come during a time of pure bliss for seemingly everyone else I know, that they have gotten pregnant all at the very same time. You know, if everyone else was struggling to get pregnant, I’m sure it wouldn’t sting quite as much. And I don’t wish that on them. But every Facebook post, every corner I turn, even my relatives continue to hint – why?

Easter was – well, okay. Not one of my bests. Mostly because my favorite reason for Easter (I sound horrible saying this but it’s quite true) is the guiltless reason to eat copious amounts of candy. Peeps, jelly beans, Cadbury cream eggs, peanut butter cups, anything with dark chocolate or marshmellow – I love it. I love it all. After ice cream, candy was my next favorite food group. This was my first Easter sugar-free. That is, sugar-free, gluten-free, dairy(ish)-free, grain-free, aka Paleo diet. Sure, I splurged on N’s sweet potatoes with splenda-infused brown sugar (Oh My!), and even indulged in a few sugar-free jelly beans (thanks, Mom, and Russell Stover), but it wasn’t the same.

Visiting my dad’s side of the family, whom I rarely see, I got a nice tummy-pat from my 80-something year old grandmother. Granted, she’s only about as tall as my stomach, but still – is she saying I’m fat? Or is she patting it to indicate that I should be pregnant right about now? Am I paranoid? Probably, but can you blame me?

At my in-law’s, a family friend of theirs commented as I held one of my dogs in my arms, “See? You don’t even need to have kids.” Now – this is a nice man. I’ve continued to say, regarding the 5,000 people who’ve made dumb comments like that to me in the last 6 months, all of these people mean well, and are nice. I even like some of them. But why the dumb comment at the Easter dinner table? Hmm?? I responded with, “Well….not exactly.” He must’ve been told by my MIL, or N’s aunt. They know, but I certainly haven’t personally told anyone else in his family about my struggles. Why else would he have said that if he didn’t know? So, what,  is my infertility the big Easter dinner table secret?

The truth is, I don’t want to hold these secrets anymore. As it is, I’ve told everyone I feel close to and the entire online world. And even that isn’t enough. I don’t want to keep this negative thing in my life around anymore – I want it out. If I’m going to keep any secrets at all, I only want ONE specific secret. And you all know what that is.

Daryl put it perfectly:  ” This community, in particular, feels more like a secret society, one to which having a set of unlucky circumstances is the only password.  One to which all the members wish they didn’t belong.”

I agree – and while everyone around me gets to head into the “we’re over the moon with excitement!” stage – I’m missing out on a rite of passage. It’s called motherhood. I’m stuck in a very weird place between an over-grown teenager and a young-looking, young-acting woman. Remember my Peeta celebrity crush? He’s 19 years old! The real issue going on there is that I either want to be back in college (with N, of course) living out my golden years without a care in the world, or with a baby in my arms. There is no happy medium. Some of you have described your possible ability to grow old without kids. For me, it’s not an option. We will exhaust absolutely everything to have a child, including adoption. Therefore – I know I’ll have kids. I’m not saying I won’t. Some way or another, it’ll happen. But this waiting-in-limbo thing, it’s horrible, painful, upsetting at times. It just flat out sucks.

And I have one other concern. Can you sense the bitterness, the poutiness, the unhappiness I display on a regular basis? The jealousy, the rage, the irritation? When I get pregnant, is that going to go away? Am I going to retreat back to my old self, happy-go-lucky with just a dash of being a bit high-strung? Am I going to find the positive in all the little things, stopping and smelling the flowers, if you will? Will I be a better listener to my friends, because I’ll be able to give them more of my brain space? Will I shower N with the attention and love he deserves, without ever having to fake happiness? Or have I done some irrevocable damage, and this will be the new me? I fear that this mutter-under-my-breath type of personality that has taken shape in the last year is becoming permanent, and I won’t even like to be around myself.

Okay, I’m done. As usual, I do feel a bit better. And after all this whining and ranting, maybe I’ll go and get a smiley face tomorrow. You never know. Sometimes you just need to get things off your chest! Thankfully, I know you guys have been there; you’ve been through it and then some. I only wish that none of us have had to.  No offense, but I want to belong to that other club, not this one.

Now, please, lil’ folly, please grow and turn into something hopeful.

Babies and pregnant teenagers – my favorite.

Okay, yesterday completely sucked. Like, really bad.

First, after my morning post, I wallowed in self-pity. I went to the gym, continued to sulk. Stopped at my mother’s, continued to sulk. Came home, cried in the shower. I mean, it was very unlike me. Other than yesterday and the day before, I do not remember the last time I had a cry like that. It’s been months, at least. Of course, the fact that my husband showered before me and used all the hot water, leaving me to ponder my infertile fate while freezing cold, didn’t help.

Then I ate lunch and felt a little better (hello, low blood sugar).

The afternoon was not horrible. We went grocery shopping, walked the dogs, nothing major. I felt better. Then, we went to my husband’s aunt’s house to celebrate the 21st and 18th birthdays of two of his cousins. Let me tell you a story about that.

I have read numerous posts by many of you, describing a situation that involved babies/pregnant people that you desperately wanted to get out of, and couldn’t. As in, you were trapped. While I always felt bad for you when I read your posts, I could never relate. Until last night. And now I totally understand.

There was a baby there. I knew she would be there, but I hadn’t given it too much thought. Leading up to this party, I was mostly thinking about how I couldn’t eat the pizza, cake, or ice cream, and was pondering how much my life really does suck when I’m forced to find some frozen gluten-free thing at the grocery store and show up with it at someone’s party. And to skip dessert – my old favorite thing.

Now, this baby. She’s the child of a 19-year old. The baby is a year old, so she had her when she was 18. The father is not around. This baby has been “raised” by this 19-year old and basically all of her friends, including my DH’s cousin. I haven’t particularly cared about this since watching teenagers with their own baby doesn’t make me jealous, just angry. Then I watched this baby melt the hearts of all my in-laws. It was seriously heartbreaking. I don’t know why, but watching my MIL hold and coo at this baby made me nauseous and upset. My DH’s aunt, whom I like a lot, was holding and singing to her. Even my DH was playing with her. She was the life of this party. As I sipped my water (I’m not drinking until there’s a baby in my arms, damnit) I thought about how the baby in my MIL’s arms should be mine. I don’t care if it goes another few months, but my DH is the oldest cousin (by a few years) and we need to have the first grandchild. I’m not concerned about my cousins yet, but you never know. So that sucked. This baby – I completely ignored her. At one point – causing utmost stress – she waddled over to me, arms outstretched. She wanted me to pick her up. Really?! I have always loved babies, loved picking them up, etc. Not last night – not with the baby everyone was cooing over. Not happening. Luckily, she turned away at the last minute, realizing she had no idea who I was, and turned toward someone nearby. Phew.

It gets better. A few hours into the party, and a couple shows up. I’ve seen them before, friends of another one of DH’s cousins. They are 21. “Mama!” my in-laws called her. “Congratulations!” Oh myyy goodness. Yes, she was pregnant. They aren’t engaged or anything, I know the father is still in college. She was four months along. As I listened to my in-laws ask how she was feeling and her describe her pregnant self, I seriously thought I was going to throw up right there on the table.

Of all days, the one day where I don’t ovulate and I’m supposed to, when Clomid doesn’t do it’s job and I’ve been waiting 24 days for this, a cute baby and a pregnant teenager are NOT what I need. I was trapped. Totally trapped. I kept thinking about how I couldn’t wait to tell you all this story! I know so many of you can relate.

To top it off, completely unrelated to babies, at the party I got a text from my father’s GF. My father had gallbladder surgery Friday. I had been told it went well. Then last night, this text says that it turns out his gallbladder was gangrenous, causing him to not wake up from the anesthesia right away. Well a whole entire day went by, and he had still not woken up. He is currently in the icu, and the GF is going to text me this morning and let me know what’s going on. I’m trying not to be overly concerned, but when toxins might have spread throughout your body and you’re not waking up from anesthesia two days later, that worries me.  I was pretty upset last night. Luckily, I didn’t hear from her overnight, so I’m taking no news as good news.

The DH and I are supposed to be having a date night, which I’m very much looking forward to. Hopefully, my father does okay and I don’t need to be making a hospital trip today. It’s a new day – no tears today. But I still don’t have a smiley face, on CD 25. And as a few of you said – we are going to keep trying. What the  heck. Until the nurse tells me it’s not happening and we’re starting over, I guess we’ll keep on keepin’ on.

 

Should I give up on this cycle?

Warning: What you’re about to read is a post I probably shouldn’t write, for a few reasons. 1) By giving in to these thoughts, I’m going to feel even worse. 2) I may feel better in a few hours, hopefully this won’t last all day. 3) Maybe a miracle will occur in the next few days and I’ll wish I never wrote it in the first place.

Oh well.

My egg isn’t coming out. I can’t sleep. I’m over-eating. Tears are being fought back. I’m so discouraged.

Let me explain. Today is CD 24. It’s supposed to be ovulation day. Last cycle, my first one on Clomid, it was. But that was after 2 days of positive OPK’s, on CD 22 and 23. I had pains on one side. I had a CD 21 blood test, where the nurse let me know ovulation was coming. This time, none of that happened. This time, I’m really frustrated.

I’m going to take a  little anger out on my nurse. Unlike other nurses who work for other doctors in that practice, she gave me no words of wisdom. Just called in my prescription. She turned me down for a CD 21 blood test. (Obviously, I know what the outcome of that would’ve been, but at least she could tell me a number to go a long with my guesses.) She has never monitored my little eggs via ultrasound, and I know a lot of people that get that done. I want that done.

But what I’m more frustrated about is my cycle. I don’t think I’m ovulating. And yes, it happens. I gave in to Google to feed my depression and found lots of people who didn’t ovulate on the second round (and were consequently moved up to the next dose). I have negative OPK’s still, and I’m using both the digital and the cheap kind, twice a day each, to be sure. Negative. I don’t have pains on one side, like I did last time. I don’t have the proper CM – there’s a lot of it, and hard to categorize, but I wouldn’t say that it’s exactly EWCM. And my temps – they let me down today. They had been exactly the same as last cycle, to the day, for the past week. I couldn’t believe how accurate it was with the last cycle. Until today. Today, it should’ve gone down a little, to 97.3, in order to jump tomorrow. Instead, it went up to 97.6. Yesterday it was 97.5. Not high enough for an ovulation jump, not low enough to be ovulation day. It’s not happening today. I don’t think it’s happening in the near future. And not that I mind giving it some practice with my husband, but we’ve been giving it our all this week. I thought this was the week. And I was ready for today, and tomorrow. That would be about one straight week, every single day. The pressure was off, we were doing everything right. And for nothing?

I can barely sleep. First of all, using Preseed is messy (we’ll leave it at that). An awesome, much needed product, but messy. So every single night this past week, I’ve been waking up a few times  to deal with that. When I wake up to take my thyroid meds at 5:00, I normally fall back to sleep quickly. This week? You know what’s on my brain as soon as the alarm goes off. Today, I tossed and turned until I got up at 6:45. From 5:00-6:45. I didn’t fall asleep until 11:00 (which is late for me). I can’t get a good night’s sleep, because I can’t stop thinking/worrying about this.

I have not had a good, long, actual cry about any of this infertility once. Not once. Until yesterday. And today. Up until this point, my issues felt too silly to be crying about. I’ll have my babies someday. Try not to be dramatic.

But as I KNEW would happen, I got my hopes up. Way up. It was the only way to keep a level head, waiting those three weeks after AF for ovulation. I swore I would make it happen this time, because I would control our end of things perfectly. And I did. Our timing would be perfect. But no.

And you know what? If I had ovulated, and had messed up the timing, I’d be upset about that, too. But here’s the real question: WHY is this happening to me in the first place?? Why am I going through this? The one thing in my life I have wanted and dreamed about more than any other is to be a mother. I do not understand why this is happening to me. And slightly more scary – I can’t get it out of my head that my auto-immune problems may be at work, here. I am not healthy. I appear to be, but I’m not. Because if I was healthy, then the only thing I would need to do is take my Synthroid every morning. But no. I have auto-immune hives. I’ve had to cut out regular sugar and wheat from my diet to avoid them. And even then they come around occasionally. I have tested positive for some other auto-immune issue, not thyroid related. I have to see a doctor about that, and I keep putting it off, because I’m afraid to hear what it is. What’s next? That I have rheumatoid arthritis at age 27, and this, plus the thyroid, plus the hives, explains why I can’t seem to ovulate like a normal person? Or are those issues separate, and when I’m finally pregnant someday, I’m going to be high-risk? What the hell!?

Clomid doesn’t seem to be working. No, I don’t want to keep trying it this way. Bring on the injections, the ultra sounds, the whatever. Just don’t have me spend tons of money on OPK’s and try my husband’s and my patience day after day, even when we’re tired, and it’s been a long day, but no, keep going, because ovulation is almost here. I seriously cannot keep going through that.

And now I can’t decide. Try again today? I have one thing, one little sign – some dull cramping. Not on a particular side. Just in general. Like the beginning of a period. But that’s it – my only sign. Is it worth it to try today, and tomorrow too? Or give up? Should I give up on this cycle?

I will definitely be calling my nurse on Monday morning.