Bitterness abounds, and it’s embarrassing.

A warning – this is a long, rant-filled post. I’m completely indulging in self-pity, and I hope to rid myself of that feeling by the time I’m done. Bear with me. Honestly, I almost don’t want to publish this post. I’m slightly embarrassed by my childlike emotions. Getting them out there, though, might take them right away.

Man, am I pissed off. I’m just – pissed. What was sadness has now channeled into a more thrilling emotion – anger. I’m angry.

Let me preface all of this by stating, again, that I know I don’t have it bad. I really don’t. And I don’t mean to imply that I do. It could be so much worse, and I’m grateful that it’s not. But I can only live in my own world, and experience my own situation. Thinking about how much worse I could have it doesn’t make this situation suck any less.

I’m mad for multiple reasons. I’ll attempt to sort them out.

Reason #1 – this one is a given. I’m pissed I’m not pregnant. Plain and simple. The timing was – impeccable. It couldn’t have been any better. My temps were beautiful. I had “symptoms”. There really should be no reason that this didn’t work. But it didn’t.

Reason #2 – I’m mad that the whole wide world has suddenly come down with a bad case of the pregnancy bug, and I haven’t caught it myself. Horrible thoughts like, “I doubt I’ll be pregnant by the summer” have come creeping into my brain. To be honest, I might have to leave Facebook. At least, I might stop checking it. Every time that I scroll through my news feed I am hit with someone’s baby something. Baby pictures, baby announcements, husbands swooning about their pregnant wives – seriously, I want to throw my phone out the window. I thought I’d be more mature about this, and handle this without excess drama but apparently at the moment I’m incapable of doing so.

Reason #3 (This is the biggest one) – I know I should be forgiven for this, but I am most angry at the fact that I allowed myself to believe, 100%, that I was pregnant. I’m so damn upset with myself for this. Ever since ovulation, I was so sure it happened. So sure, in fact, that I convinced my husband. We set out on our nightly walks, talking about how much vacation time N has, and if he could take off the month of December. Yes, my due date would’ve been Nov.25th. Stupid FF, for even telling me that. He would ask me, “You got a baby in that belly?” And I’d respond with, “I think so!” Stupid, stupid, stupid. It did dawn on me a few times during the TWW that I haven’t yet actually had a positive pregnancy test. Ha, I’d think. Oops. Well, once I started, I couldn’t stop. I was pregnant in my mind, and that’s it. And though I’m ridiculously disappointed, I’m more upset to read my husband’s disappointment on his face. He was so excited. I was so excited. And I convinced him it was happening. I thought my super-ovulation might have even released more than one egg, and we entertained the idea of multiples. We have names picked out (we have for a good year or so), and those names started to be spoken.

There’s a few other, secondary reasons I’m mad. (Gosh, I sound whiny. Oops.)

Last Thursday, in the midst of the end of the TWW craziness, I was asked by another person in my building if I was expecting. Since September, when I started at this school and met a whole bunch of new people, two have asked me if I’m pregnant, and one asked when I would be. Why, why, whyyyy do you have to ask me this?? And here’s the worst part of it – the woman who asked me last week asked because it looked like I was. You know what “you look like you’re pregnant” is code for? You guessed it – “You’re fat.”

Now, this woman is very nice, and I don’t know her from a hole in the wall. I was waiting to pick up my students from lunch and I had my arms crossed. I’m sure my nice little gut was sticking out, and my posture was probably bad. So she looked at my stomach, came over to me and said, “Oh, oh my, are you…are you expecting?” “No..”I replied. “Oh,” she said, “It just looked like you…” Then, realizing her mistake, she started apologizing, and I felt a little bit badly for her, because she has been nice throughout the time I’ve known her. So, I told her we were trying, but no, this is not a pregnancy belly. I’ve just…gained some weight.

Here’s the thing, and I know I’ve mentioned this before, too. I am self-conscious of my weight. I’m mad at myself, disgusted with the fact that I just binged-ate my way through this past weekend and today, and I’m aware that in the past year or so I have formed a nice little gut/butt….and I’m not happy about it. That said, I’m not very overweight. I could stand to lose 10-15 pounds. That’s it. I’m still in the “normal” range of my BMI. I think, though, that people notice that my gut and butt don’t fit the rest of my body. My frame screams that I should be smaller. And I’m not. It’s noticeable. The side view, in my opinion, isn’t pretty. I exercise though, and that’s not a problem. My problem is my food – I eat a LOT. A ton. As much as N, if not more sometimes. And he’s got 45 pounds on me. I emotionally eat. I stressfully eat. I eat when I’m bored. And lately, I’ve been eating when I’m upset and full of anxiety. That’s been, oh I don’t know, the last four weeks. Four months…a year. Two years. Which leads me to my next point.

I’m super-pissed at my body. Why do I have health problems? Why? I have healthy parents, I grew up healthy, what I actually eat is quite healthy, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs, I really barely even drink. I’ve been active all my life, I’ve made good choices. Why, then, in my 20’s, has my immune system decided to do a back flip? I should not have to have a reproductive endocrinologist, a rheumatologist, an endocrinologist, an allergist, etc. I should not have to be sugar-free in order to avoid my lips swelling up like a balloon. I should not have to be punished after eating a cupful of no-sugar added ice cream last night with a face full of lip hives this morning, as I hung my head in shame walking into the gym. For the love of God, just don’t look at my lips. I should not have to make sure my Synthroid goes down with enough water at 5 am every morning to keep my TSH levels at bay. I shouldn’t have to wonder if my positive ANA-titer is going to result in lupus, or rheumatoid arthritis someday. I shouldn’t have to wonder, when a cycle doesn’t work, whether it’s just bad luck this time, or if my endless autoimmune antibodies are at play.

Then again, none of us should have to go through what we go through. I know you’ve contemplated this yourself. I just wrote a giant post that can be summed up in three words – “It’s not fair!” And it’s not. Not at all.

Am I done yet? Yes, almost.

My gym is a brand-new YMCA. When I’m not taking a class, I’m hitting the treadmill. You know what window the treadmills face? The one out into the lobby, where on a Saturday morning there are more babies and toddlers there than adults. And they walk by, and wave, and smile, and parents coo. All while I’m attempting to run off my fat, as my sweat literally (no joke) drips down my arms. Yes, I’m nasty when I exercise.

I’m going to have to face Easter, seeing all my family and N’s family, with not a single good thing to say. I was really hoping to have a good secret. I almost want to hide from the world until I feel better. I haven’t been able to give myself to my family and friends. I’ve always been a good listener, and I like to give advice as well. I like being a part of my family and friends’ worlds. Lately, the only world I’ve been stuck in is my own. I don’t feel like I’ve been a good friend or family member the last few months or so. When I see anyone, honestly, what else is there to talk about? Is there anything else in my life as important and thought-consuming as TTC? No, there isn’t. Nothing else has mattered lately. And I’m not happy about that, either. I used to like my job, and I had other interests. I need to get those back. No one wants to hear me whine again and again, and I don’t feel comfortable doing so. Hence this blog. Sorry to those who get a double dose – on the blog and in real life!

I’m done. Phew.

That was a humungous dose of whiny, “I’m feeling sorry for myself” ranting. I do apologize. I never thought I’d become such a bitter person. I don’t like this new personality trait. I’m going to have to work on it.

And you know what? I do feel better, so thank you. Nothing’s more unpleasant than a whiny, overweight infertile. If I’m going to continue having issues conceiving a child, I might as well look good doing so.

I’m already wishing I didn’t write this post. I feel so much less anger and sadness right now that it’s almost worth deleting. I feel better. I’ve already started the new cycle, after all, and I just need to look ahead. Don’t look back.

Binge eating needs to stop, immediately. I need to count my calories. Work on looking my best, and try to forget about baby stuff. I need to put my bitterness away, at least until next cycle. I need to remind myself why I used to love my job. I need to invest in a hobby that has absolutely nothing to do with pregnancy.

I will learn to love life again, without a child in it. For now.

 

 

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Blah, blah, blah.

Thank you for all the comments in my last few posts, everyone. I haven’t gotten to respond to them yet but I will today. I know you have gone through all the ups and downs of all this, and then some, and so I appreciate the comments even more. This was not something devastating, in the scheme of things, but I did trick myself into believing I might actually be pregnant, and that just can’t happen every cycle.

Now, let me just say: These Clomid periods are no joke. Holy crap. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s a regular period, which I haven’t had, well let’s see, prior to BCP – since I was about 12. Either way, no matter what kind of period this is, it’s not what I’m used to, and I learned that lesson yesterday. We were about to run out the door last night to a work party for my husband, and I stopped into the bathroom one last time. (TMI alert…scroll down if you wish). Basically, I bled through….everything. And not just a little. Soaked. Through underwear, into my jeans, legs….soaked. I haven’t had any accident like that since I was in middle school, when after I got up from my English class chair I told the girl behind me that it was “just turpentine”. I didn’t even know what that was – I have no idea where that word came from. Either way, if I was in middle school last night, that excuse wouldn’t have worked, because it was that out of control. If I had passed out and been found in the bathroom it would’ve looked like a crime scene. If we weren’t literally running out the door to this party, I would’ve taken a shower. So that was fun. This morning, I woke up feeling major cramps, hungry-nauseous…and just in time to deal with what could’ve been a big mess. What is this??

Also this morning,  I’m attempting some optimism about the rest of my health that’s always on my mind. I’m so sick and tired of my autoimmune issues. (Pardon my negative rant…I’ll be positive shortly). I have crazy hives. Crazy. They are under my skin, not on top of it, which causes the swelling. They can be in my mouth and throat, in my cheeks, lips, etc. Even though they are directly related to my high-antibody levels, I have recently noticed a connection with my sugar intake. So I’ve cut out all desserts, chocolate, etc. of any sort. But that hasn’t stopped it, because it’s ANY sugar…after a certain time of day. So this is what I’ve noticed. I felt crappy all last week (of course, thinking pregnancy symptoms), and it turns out I was fighting some weird bug. Nothing ever happened, but I was mildly nauseous with no appetite for a few days, which was weird, and now that my appetite is back, I have a killer sore throat. Anyway, last week I was eating a lot of carby type things because I felt crappy, and pretzels/crackers have always helped settle my stomach. Last week I had hives multiple times. One day, after skipping dinner, I finally felt like some dried cereal at about 8:30 at night. I ate a decent amount of it, (gluten-free Chex, honey-nut) and had hives within a half hour after finishing. They were up in my cheek, making it look all swollen. The next morning, I had the same cereal, and had no day hives. Let’s see. Then two days ago, after I realized I wasn’t pregnant, I came home from school and treated myself to a small cup of the gluten-free granola I made, which has sugar in it. I eat it most mornings for breakfast with no problem. But when I ate it at 4:00 in the afternoon..I had hives by 5:30. My hives are almost always at night, and they take a good 12+ hours to go away. I always pray my students can’t tell the next morning. My body is out of control right now. It’s not always like this. Just a few months ago I was eating sugar normally. Now it’s down to a time of day. I can have cereal with sugar in it in the morning, and creamer in my coffee, with no problem. I have a Greek yogurt with lunch, which has sugar, with no problem. Anything after like…3:00 and I’m apparently doomed. And you know what? That pisses me off.

So last night, at my husband’s work party, they served:  A pasta bar. A carving station. Desserts. That’s it! So I had …a plate of meat. Just carved meat. It was good, but meat by itself? I was hoping for maybe a potato, salad. Nope. After two small plates of nothing but meat, I realized this wasn’t working for me. My husband got in the pasta line and got me some broccoli and artichoke hearts with pasta sauce, without the pasta. Then, while he was eating chocolate cake, carrot cake…etc. I had two cups of “Sweet dreams” tea. With one splenda each. That’s when I started the pity whine. It’s not fair!! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. That’s all I keep hearing.

And I’ve been trying to lose weight – well, mentally. I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been..my pants barely fit, I love leggings but with every shirt I wear with them a muffin top is present…I don’t like anything I put on. It’s not like I’m making horrible food choices – no gluten, no sugar. But I do eat too much, and even if I didn’t, it’s a fact with an autoimmune thyroid problem – weight is going to come off VERY slowly. I get impatient.

But the REAL reason I’m not losing weight is because I’m so fixated on my weird cycles, my BBT, my ovulation, and my hives, sugar intake, and going gluten-free, that having tiny portions and being dedicated about that is just not something I can handle. I cannot be in tip-top shape in EVERY aspect of my life. Something has to give! So I let the portions go. I can be in control of my sugar intake, and going gluten-free. I just can’t do it all.

So that’s how I’m really feeling – pretty negative. But I told you I was attempting optimism. So, I’m dressed for the gym, leaving shortly. And I re-downloaded the app “My Fitness Pal”, which I saw on Stirrup Queens’ blog. I had it before and never used it. But today, I’m going to try. I hate counting calories. Hate it. But I think it just might work. Today I will give it a try. One day – I can do that. My life has quickly become a “one-day-at-a-time”. I can only handle one thing at a time. Today, I will count calories.

Thanks for listening to my rant! I feel like these negative posts come more often than the positive ones. I will work on changing that!

 

“Hi, I’m Fertility-Challenged. And you are….?”

Today is one of those days. Bear with me as I proceed to whine, rant, and sort through my pessimistic feelings. Tomorrow will be a new day with hopefully a better outlook.

Frankly, since my last post, I haven’t been feeling all that positive – about anything, not to mention getting pregnant. I woke up yesterday morning with a severe pain on the top of my foot – I figured out that I sprained or pinched a nerve in my tendon. Or something like that. It was supposed to be Day 1 of going “back” to my healthy lifestyle (as if I was ever there before). Instead, I spent the day elevating and icing my foot. Also, yesterday morning we awoke to the news that my husband and his family’s church burned to the ground. It wasn’t devastating to him, but still, random and upsetting. It was a weird day.

Today isn’t much better. I feel my negative thoughts about to spew out; apologies in advance. I’m just in one of those moods where EVERYTHING is wrong.

My biggest complaint right now is that my body is in control of me, and not the other way around. I’m supposed to be making better food choices, and eating less, which is my goal for the month. That isn’t really happening, because I’m fixated on my messed up health:

– I have hives in my face (usually lips) every day now. Well, make that night. These hives (angioedema), unlike regular hives, form under the skin, causing swelling, as opposed to on top of the skin. I can feel when they start. They have been hanging around every single night! It is so irritating! Last night I was brushing my teeth and I felt one starting on the inside of my lip, in the corner where my top and bottom lips meet. There was a second one high up in my gums, feeling like more in the cheek. When those swell, they move up into my nasal passage and I get stuffy. I woke up this morning with swollen cheeks, lips, and eyes. Like I said, I’ve been used to this once in a while, but not every single night. It takes HOURS to go away. I’m lucky if my students can’t still see it the next day. The other thing bothering me about these hives is my anxiety. I’ve been a little paranoid the last few months that I’m going to get them in my throat and have trouble breathing. I’ve only had them in the throat a few times now, and it makes my voice all scratchy and feels like there’s a lump in there (heyy, Christmas Eve). Last night, being probably over-tired, I basically sent myself into a paranoid state trying to fall asleep, creating hives in my throat that weren’t there. AKA – I was starting to have a panic attack. Those are not things I want my mind to get used to. Not okay! I yoga-breathed my way out of it, counting backwards from 100, twice, finally falling asleep. WHAT IS UP WITH THIS??

– Slightly less scary, but annoying nonetheless, I have bad circulation in my fingers and toes. This isn’t new news to me, but lately it has been extra bad. (Is this a side effect of Clomid?) After barely being cold (or cold for just a minute), these extremities turn white and feel numb/tingly, and take forever to go away. Today, at recess with my students, I had gloves on and my hands were shoved in my pockets. When we came back in, my middle finger was all white and tingly. This afternoon, after pilates class, where I went barefoot, I came home with both feet completely white and tingly from the balls up, even though I had socks and boots on in the car. It took a good hour to restore the blood. These were just today’s episodes – but it’s been going on a while.

Why is my body screaming at me?

And then, just because it’s the mood I’m in – I’m having major Clomid doubts. First of all, everyone is pregnant all of a sudden. Including my pilates instructor. It’s everywhere! Here I am, CD 12, with a self-prescribed plan of action (based on internet research) of “trying for a baby” (so many funny/gross ways to put this, but I’ll be polite) every other day until my blood test, which is on CD 20. Even after that, I may continue with the plan (I’ve heard many people say that on Clomid, they ovulated really late). It starts today. Hope the husband is geared up! It’s almost comical – and it would be, if I had any actual feelings that this may work!

My body isn’t giving me any signs of ovulation, not that I would know what they feel like, since I’ve most likely never ovulated.

I’m going to say it; feel free to scroll down and skip this. Here’s my ultra-whine: Clomid isn’t going to work, I’m going have 5,000 auto-immune problems and be a sickly middle-aged woman, and I’m never having children! I don’t smoke, do any drugs, and rarely drink. But my body hates me, and lets me know on a regular basis.

Okay, thanks. 🙂 I knew it was just a rant. I don’t have them often, and it needed to come out. Don’t take it all to heart – I completely understand that I’ve only just begun all this, and that so many people have it so much worse. I don’t negate that at all, and I feel for all of them. I’m just bitter that I’m fertility-challenged, and even more bitter that my body has the nerve to say, “Hey, let’s make fertility a struggle. While we’re at it, let’s give you an astronomically high amount of auto-immune antibodies and throw some random auto-immune diseases at you!” I’m only 27 years old, relatively healthy. Sure, I’m a good 10 pounds overweight, but still in the cusp of the healthy BMI, and I’m holding on to that!

I do see my thyroid doctor in about three weeks. I’ll mention all of this. I’m better now, thanks. Blogging today was some seriously needed self-therapy.

Now, let’s get down to business.

All in all…

Hey, you know what: It’s been a good day.

While I compose this post that focuses on the positive, I’ll ignore the fact that my angioedema (hives in the lips, yum) is out of control right now, looking like Angelina Jolie on steroids and literally hurting and itching at the same time. It’s spread into my cheeks and up into my nasal…cavities. Every time I touch it, it gets more itchy, and therefore grows more. It takes hours to go away. And by hours, I mean it hopefully will be mostly gone by the time I go to kickboxing class tomorrow, and then on to holiday festivities. It’s a lovely reminder that my autoimmune antibodies are still screaming at me; something in my system isn’t right.

Oh wait -wasn’t this supposed to be positive? Oops. Well, here we go:

1) I’m on vacation – that’s about as positive as you can get. I made it through the week with 23 hyper 11-year olds on a constant sugar high. I still have my sanity intact.

2) It’s just about Christmas. I’ve got the Straight No Chaser holiday Pandora station going nonstop. And as much as I wish I had a pregnancy announcement to give this weekend, I always love Christmas and stuffing my face. Oh, and spending time with family.

3) I received a blog award (see my last post.) Pretty cool!

4) I got my PERIOD this morning! Yes, that’s good news. Great, actually.  I’ve been waiting about 4 months for this day. I called up my RE this afternoon, and I’m starting Clomid on Tuesday!!! We talked for over 20 minutes, going over the new plan. I’ll be taking 5 pills (50mg each) cycle days 5-9. Though my doctor is more concerned this cycle seeing if the Clomid makes me ovulate, more than trying to get pregnant, I will still be using OPK’s starting around CD 12. Towards CD 20, I’ll be getting my blood drawn to see if I did ovulate. If I did, they’ll keep me on the same dose. If not, they’ll bump me up. I can’t forget the long stretch of a miracle – getting pregnant on this first round. I HIGHLY doubt it, but we’re sure going to try.

I’ll be reporting on my supposed side effects, but for now, I’ll enjoy the rest of this night and dream away my lip hives. Goodnight!