10 weeks

Tomorrow, I will be ten weeks pregnant with twins. This double digit milestone is something I’ve been hopeful to reach for what seems like forever, with the next goal being, of course, 12 weeks. But even with these goals being met, I still have so long to go. And given my infertile journey and my worrying nature anyway, it just seems so hard to believe that this will continue to be my new normal.

But right now, it is, and I’m actually starting to internalize it. I’m not in a panic everyday, and I wake up each morning assuming that I’ll still be pregnant every night. So that’s good – I think I’m on the right track.

I’ve been a lot more comfortable in my newly pregnant skin in the last week and a half. Which, with that, has brought about something many of you have described after becoming pregnant – an infertile’s guilt. I don’t have, like, deep guilt by any means. I do believe that I deserve this and it was bound to happen eventually, and I feel for everyone that has had it so much worse than I ever did. However, sometimes I feel sort of sheepish. I mean it was only weeks ago that I was a hot mess, emotional, bitter and cranky. If I saw a young mom on the street with her baby, lord help me. And that was only weeks ago. If I could’ve just slapped my own face, told myself to chill, be a pleasant person and stop looking so pissed off..I don’t know. Now that I’ve slowly started to find my old self again, my old personality, I’m almost embarrassed. I get why I felt the way I did, and if something happened and I had to do it over again, I’d go right back to that place. But right now I’m happier, and it feels weird. Sometimes it feels like I shouldn’t be too happy, or at least shouldn’t show too much happiness, because people might think I’m totally nuts. Anyway, I know caring what other people think is a bad idea, but I’m just saying. I’m glad I’m happy right now and I can’t believe how miserable I have been. Talk about a personality switch.

Anyway. I’ve slowly started to figure out this new system of mine – what it likes, hates, needs, how much and how often. It only took me 10 weeks. Eating needs to be literally nonstop, meals need to have protein, and Zofran needs to be taken at 6, noon, and 6 again to keep nausea at least somewhat under control. Sometimes, at night, when there isn’t a single food I could eat that could help the nausea and I’ve given the yogurt spoon many tries, sleep is the only cure. When I’m super nauseous, I shiver like I’ve got a fever of 102. Green apples are always a sure bet, along with anything moist. No crackers, toast, or dry meats for me. Yuck. Instead of all-day nausea, I’d call it more like all-day minus about three hours. This is an improvement. Water is my best friend, along with root beer because it masks the horrible taste of Zofran. If I go to bed too early (like 8-8:30), I wake up super easily all through the night, and lie there awake needing to pee and feeling crappy but too lazy to get up. But if I go to bed too late (10:00 last night), after lying down for 10 minutes or so I get the hunger-nausea, and it is bad enough that I yank out my retainer (sexy, I know) and stuff gluten-free puffins cereal with almond milk down my throat. So many rules, and when it comes to food, I’ve made some advances.

One thing I haven’t figured out is my body. I mean, I’m extremely bloated and maybe that means showing a little, I don’t know. But it’s not like I’m huge or anything. So why am I so instantly out of shape and out of breath from virtually everything? I had to rush around the house the other day and was painfully winded and nauseous. I brought the trash out, and was winded. Today my students cleaned their desks, and as I went from desk to desk, bending over slightly and turning my head to the side to see into them, I felt light headed and dizzy. And out of breath. Taking the dogs for a walk – our nightly ritual? Almost out of the question. No more gym for me. I figured this would all happen months from now, but I never thought so soon. It’s just weird to think about how not in control I am of my own body. Granted, I wasn’t in control when I couldn’t get pregnant either. But it feels weird.

We met with two different practitioners, made our decision, and even heard the heartbeats, which was exciting. (Did I write about this in my last post? My apologies because I can’t remember.) One was in the 170’s, and the other the 140’s. We now have our 12 week ultrasound/scan thing scheduled, and I guess we will go from there. We plan to sit down this weekend and figure out how to be as financially smart as possible from now until July. But otherwise, we have no idea what we’re doing.

For now, every day that goes by with sickness, a growing and sore chest and no problems, I thank the lucky stars and go to bed hoping for the same outcome the next day.

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The Real Pregnancy 101

Well, I can’t hold out any longer. I’ve been dying to post, but I’ve held back for a few reasons, the strongest being that I felt like I should. Now, though, I want to talk about it, because I have questions, I have comments, and you online friends have always been a source of support.

It appears that I’m officially pregnant.

As you can see, I’m still having trouble…with those words. In fact, the entire first 24 hours after finding out “officially” after my first beta, I couldn’t even say the words, “I’m pregnant”. Instead, I smiled and gave a thumbs-up to my husband, and told my father on the phone, “I’ve officially been impregnated.” Who says that?? But even still, it’s hard for me to accept. Even when I got my BFP on a home pregnancy test last Thursday morning and every day after that, I didn’t actually believe it, and had to keep that little secret in totally. Then, when the call came in regarding my beta, I was alone in my house, cleaning the walls of dust (just had our floors redone and we were “moving back in”), I said thank you to the nice nurse, with little to no emotion in my voice, hung up the phone, and kept cleaning the walls. No crying, no screaming, no jumping for joy. I think it was denial. Luckily, my husband and family reacted appropriately, making up for my lack of a reaction. It’s not that I wasn’t excited or happy, but you just…get to this place with infertility, and I guess my emotions were all – dulled. And that moment was no different. It was hard to accept that I was deserving of this new thing – which sounds ridiculous. I think I was in a place where I was realizing I was going to have infertility issues for who knows how much longer.

preggo test

 

Beta #1 – 166

Beta #2 – 338

So, it’s doubled, and now I have to wait until Monday for the next test, with my first ultrasound not coming until after the new year, when I’m 7.5 weeks in.

But a disclaimer, before I continue. I’d say 90% of the bloggers I follow, you all either have kids now or are pregnant. And every time one of you became pregnant, you so kindly said something in your post about how hard you know it is for those of us who weren’t pregnant and how we didn’t need to keep reading your blog if we didn’t want to. And I appreciated those comments, though every time I understood. So I’m adding the same comment – I do understand the dreaded feeling of “ugh, there’s another one”. I get it. Like I said, I think I was one of the last of my little circle of bloggers so most of you have been there before me. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. And judging by the fact that I still am not running around, being that newly-pregnant hyper obnoxious person, I’d say I really do get it. I’m not sure what I’ll do with the blog regarding being pregnant, but as always, please don’t feel like you need to continue following my posts or anything like that. Just like everyone else, I do totally understand, because it’s not fair. And if you are my friend “in real life”, I’d be forever grateful if you’d keep it to yourself for a while and not share, until this really settles in and I feel more comfortable with it.

So everything at this point looks good. But I’m super nervous, unsure of the whole thing, and I have no idea what I’m doing. As I’ve said to a few people, I feel like – I got inducted into this secret club. Which is great, and I’m totally happy about it, but it’s just that I didn’t really think I’d get in, and I didn’t prepare myself, and now I’m the newbie trying to figure this all out and write my entry speech.

There’s this other thing on my brain too. As the days go by and I slowly allow myself to feel some happiness and excitement, I am realizing that in the last year and a half, I totally changed! Like I said, my emotions were dulled I think and I guess I’ve been walking around in a haze. And now that true happiness is starting to find its way to me again, I’m attempting to recall what I used to be like, and what I used to feel like. I didn’t realize until now how different I’ve become, and I do miss the old me. I think over the coming months I’ll start to go back to my old self, as long as everything progresses like it should.

Okay, now, one of the reasons I did want to tell my blog readers soon is because I already have questions. Nothing major, of course. But like, okay:

–         PIO shots have all of a sudden started to suck. They don’t hurt, but they are now causing those lumps under my skin, which now is turning into itchy hives. Just a giant hive on each side. Which, with my chronic autoimmune hive issue, I guess I’m not surprised, but still. Anyone else?

–         Dry freaking skin! No acne here – but everything itches. My legs, my back, my stomach (stupid glue leftovers from estrogen patches) and of course my butt where the shots were. God, I’m itchy.

–         My gums – are slightly swollen and sensitive. Went to the dentist today = not pleasant.

–         Rapid blood sugar decline. Nothing I can’t handle, but like all of a sudden, holy God, I’m hungry/going to die if I don’t eat something RIGHT NOW. And a little snack later, I’m good. Or the other night, we had a late night dinner (and by late, I mean 6:30) at my husband’s parents’, and before the meal I felt shaky, cold, crappy, horrible. I ate, face got flushed, and felt like a million bucks.

But mark my words – these are not complaints. Not even CLOSE. I’ll take absolutely anything that comes my way, as long as my little zygote is safe. But I am worried – I do have autoimmune issues of course, the hives and whatnot, and Hashimoto’s thyroiditis. In the past few days I’ve contacted all of my doctors. I need to be checked, now, immediately, by my thyroid doctor, allergist, etc. just to make sure all my ducks are in a row.

But are all of those things I mentioned common? Has anyone experienced any of them?

As the time progresses, I just know I’m going to want to check all the things going on with me, with you guys. Because you know better than I do.

Until next time, I am now excited and happy. So much so that it hurts, a lot, when I think about what could happen between now and 40 weeks, which I’m trying not to do. I forgot how badly I wanted this, and now that it’s here, I am begging for it to stay.

 

Hitting the year mark – what’s the definition?

It’s been a year since I started this blog. One very long, mostly frustrating year. My first post was an indicator of just how clueless I really was going into TTC, because I thought I actually knew things. I take that back, though: I did know things, but it was information for people who simply have sex, and boom, they’re pregnant. You know, most people. I naively thought that would be me, which now I find almost comical.

But the real reason for my post lies with the definition of trying to conceive. This goes hand in hand with the definition of being infertile.

There has been much debate in many people’s blogs lately over the definitions of these things. It does seem we can all agree that most doctors want you to be “trying for a year” before “infertility” can be your unofficial diagnosis and you are sent off to a fertility specialist. It also seems that most of us agree that’s insane.

The differences in opinion come when we get down to the little details, and I will use myself as an example. One year ago, my husband and I started trying. I had already been off birth control since April, and I was noticing irregular periods, but I was hoping it would settle on its own. We still tried. Then, soon after starting this blog, I was told by my old endocrinologist my TSH level was too high, an 8, and I must stop trying immediately, until further notice. That’s when my blog started to focus more on diet and thyroid health than anything else. After a month or so, we continued trying, and got the official “okay” from a doctor a few months later. And from there, I had long, irregular cycles, including an 82-day cycle that wrapped up in November, when I was finally given Provera and put out of my misery. I was fortunate enough to be able to see a fertility specialist earlier than most people, and started on Clomid in late December. The rest is history.

Since N and I started trying one year ago, I have ovulated exactly 3 times, to my knowledge. Maybe there might have been one more in there, soon after going off the pill, because I did get my period on my own the first time. But I won’t ever know for sure. These three times have been in January, March, and May of 2012. That’s three chances to get pregnant. Does that mean I’ve only been officially “trying” since the first Clomid pills did their job? I would have to say no.

I think it’s interesting that people who aren’t going through infertility question what “trying” means. I get it – for most people, you get a chance every single month, which I can’t even imagine. So when you’ve been trying for a year, you’ve “tried” 12 times. But is that what trying means – it only counts when you actually ovulate? I don’t think so. I think it’s more mental, with an addition of a physical act. We’ve been physically trying, when we are able, for one solid year. That might have meant many a night of praying to the gods that regular sex with no IUI, plus a miracle of releasing an egg would do the trick. Many nights of thinking, this cycle could be the one. Countless days (more than I care to think about) of checking my CM, charting, temping, analyzing, Googling….and I’ve released 3 eggs. Most people think “trying” means sex, and only when it counts (as in, when you ovulate). I refuse to think of it that way, because it would negate everything I’ve gone through in a year.

So as I see it, yes, we’ve been trying for a year. I know some of you have tried for way longer, multiple years, and I hope my time comes sooner than that. However, hitting the year mark is kind of a big deal, to me at least. I just can’t help thinking about the way my feelings about trying to conceive have changed, and my emotions as well. I went from over-the-top hopeful (I guess everyone starts out that way) to so upset, disappointed, devastated, to angry, to numb, and in the last few months, my current feelings are pushed right out of my head. I try not to even think about it. It’s not numb, necessarily, but it’s – wow, this is so frustrating that it’s not even worth coherent thoughts. I’ve tried to move on with the rest of my life, while a healthy dose of bitterness lingers.

As for the definition of infertile – it’s a debate I don’t fully want to jump into, because I honestly believe we shouldn’t all have to adhere to one specific dictionary definition. I agree with others who find it irritating if someone tries for a while, and then it works, no problem, and they called it infertility. I think once you find out what’s wrong, then it’s okay to place the label on yourself. If you weren’t able to see a specialist for a long time and then you found out something was wrong – I’m not saying your infertility started then. It started when you started trying. But you wouldn’t have known why until a doctor told you, most likely. I didn’t know what was wrong until I saw the specialist, but now I know: my eggs don’t grow and release on their own. Anovulation. Hashimoto’s thyroiditis and other auto-immune issues. I wouldn’t say that I’m “infertile”, because it sounds permanent. I will be fertile, but with the help of some major drugs. But it’s all how you define yourself. If you have a blog about trying to get pregnant, chances are, you’ve been through the ringer and you have enough to say about the topic to write about it on a regular basis. I’d say you have the right to claim infertility, for sure.

In the end, we write these posts because we’re looking for support, not judgement. I’ve had nothing but support since I started, but I know there are people out there who do judge. We all have different journeys, and I’m not sure putting “infertility” on a scale in severity from 1-10 will make anyone feel better. If anything, it’s a reminder that we’re all struggling, and it sucks.

Going through the motions

Wow, posting two days in a row. Must be something on my mind!

Actually, I’ll keep this short. I’m already over this last stupid cycle. Well, not over it, but I’ve accepted it. I just want my period to start  officially and be over already to get started on the next round. But in no way, shape, or form am I telling myself that this time might be “the one”. No, thinking like that cycle after cycle is nothing but a disappointment. I’m just going to go through the motions and see what happens.

Jenn over at The Future Fords made a really good point in her latest post; something that has been on my mind myself. It seems like everyone is getting pregnant, and since my blog is less than a year old, I just figured this kind of thing comes in waves. Apparently not. Jenn also noticed, and while both she and I are nothing but happy for all of you, especially considering the trouble you have gone through to get to this point, I am definitely a bit jealous. Not only that, but I do wonder what I’m going to do when all my blogging friends get pregnant and I still don’t. Do I need to expand my blogging horizons? I will continue to read about you all, of course, because I am interested in your stories. But once you enter your second trimester, you just start to be in a different place, and I totally understand.  I guess what I’m saying is – it’s lonely out there in blogger world. It’s lonely in real life, too. It’s very hard to talk about the most frustrating thing in my life with people who are experiencing the greatest joy. And I’m starting to get sick of talking about my hardships, because they have been carrying on a damn long time.

I have a real life frustration of the day to share with you, as well. I shouldn’t be venting about other pregnant people because I feel bad, but at the same time, I simply have to let it out.

My coworker is pregnant, about 20 weeks. She’s very nice and sweet and really doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. I am happy for her. That said, I am watching her grow every day. I am watching her discuss every aspect of this child with every person who asks about it (which is basically everyone BUT me…I’m awful and she probably hates me). I am watching her consider ever so carefully what she eats, and what she does, and she wonders aloud whether doing or eating any such thing might be bad for the baby.

Worst of all, she recently announced to her class that she is pregnant, as she is starting to show and these 11 year old’s are mighty observant. Apparently, when she told her class, they all clapped. Now, the word has spread and my students, my awesome students of whom I wish were my personal children, are super excited about it. They can’t stop talking about it, including to me. “Did you hear ____ is having a baby?” “Oh my gosh, did you know….” etc, etc. Yes, children, I did know. And yes, I go ahead and fake this happy smile. Yuck. I’m also of child-bearing age. I want so badly for this wonderful class to celebrate with me, my pregnancy. How wonderful that would be. Of course, that’s not going to happen with this group of children. Does this all sound immature and childish? Yes, it does. But I can’t even deny it – I’m just pissed off and bitter. So very bitter.

I do want a baby. Obviously, I want that more than literally anything else in this world. But what I really, deep-down truly want, is to be knee-deep in being a mom. I want to skip all the worry and stress of this journey, and have a couple of elementary-age children in my house, now. I want to be a soccer mom (hence the name), braving the rain on a Saturday morning with my coffee and my husband as we watch my kids play, I want to go to baseball games and band concerts. I want to have tears in my eyes because our children might demonstrate talents that make their parents proud. I want to volunteer for the PTO, become friends with my kids’ teachers. I want to ring the damn dinner bell when it’s time to call in the kids for dinner; they need to help set the table. For whatever reason, these things, of all things, make me the most upset right now. Not even the failed cycle. It’s this incredible deep-down, painfully strong desire to be a mom, and to exercise my mommy-ing abilities. I think I’ll be a damn good one. I try it out on my students, and they fit the bill perfectly.

Of course, thinking about how very far from now those moments will be is daunting. I’m looking at – a good 7 or 8 years, at least. At least. When those days come, though, and I’m rushing through the house trying to prepare dinner, shuttling my kids off to piano lessons and dance class, I feel like I will be able to put this whole ordeal behind me and really, truly enjoy life. Until then, I think I’m just going through the motions.

A release of hope

Back from my mini-vacation. We stayed at a bed and breakfast in Lake George, then spent one afternoon an hour and a half north of that, in Lake Placid. N is doing a full Ironman there this summer, and he wanted to drive the bike route and see what kind of damage he was in for. 112 miles on a bike is no easy feat! Luckily, it wasn’t actually that bad.

The bed and breakfast was great. Beautiful, cozy, and their 5-course breakfasts were really amazing. Gosh, I feel like I’m doing a professional review. Anyway, if you are ever in that area and are looking for a great place to stay, check this place out:

Cornerstone Victorian

I did find out that, of the two food demons in my life currently, wheat has just moved to #1. I had a little wheat the past few days, including a low-sugar apple cinnamon muffin, and a bit of fresh bread at dinner. Just like a few weeks ago when I tried to reintroduce wheat into my diet, I had the worst stomach problems. It only put a damper on a half hour of my vacation, so no big deal in the long run, but seriously, it was very painful. I really can’t eat wheat anymore. It just can’t happen. As for sugar, I had just a little bit of that too, including two small ice creams, and really had next to no hives. I’m thinking that’s just a passing thing, and I really just got lucky for this trip, because as of two weeks ago sugar was my arch nemesis. Either way, I gain weight from these foods. Back to Paleo, for real this time, and I know I’ll lose weight at the very least. By the way – almond milk? Delicious. Unsweetened coconut milk – not so much.

As for my mental health – I’m okay. It’s an up and down thing, you guys know. We had a great time, and I was happy. But deep down, the truth of the matter is that nothing, really nothing could make me so completely happy that I would permanently push infertility aside. I can have moments where I’m not thinking about it, but the emotions that come with it are never really gone. I had a good of a time as any; as I could. We both did. I’m just saying that underneath it all I’m not truly happy, because the one thing I really want in life has been giving me problems, difficulties, and it seems so far away. For all I know, it could be very far away.

The issue here is my hope level. Say, on a scale from 1-10, when I first started TTC, it was at a 10. When I started Clomid, a 9. Last cycle, when I was so sure I was pregnant, an 8. But since that damaging cycle, I stopped obsessing about TTC. I mostly stopped temping, only once every few days now. POASing has just started back up, and I actually hate it. I don’t worry about our timing. But with the release of all these stressors comes the release of hope. Sure, it’s possible it could happen soon. I understand that. But I can no longer feel like it’s going to. I am hopeful, on a shallow level, but deep down, the optimism isn’t there. It is so far away. Actually getting a positive pregnancy test? Going for my first ultrasound? Hitting 20 weeks? So, so far away. And that just really, plainly sucks.

I’ve noticed my new try-not-to-think-about-it attitude manifesting itself in other ways, too. In the past month, I’ve rarely blogged. I have nothing much to say. I haven’t really commented on many blogs either. For once, I didn’t sign up for ICLW. I’m just in a place where I am so tired of the frustration and, really, the pain that goes with all this that I don’t want to talk about it much anymore. I don’t know if it’s showing, but IRL I feel quieter, more serious. I’ve never been good at faking anything, especially emotions.

It’s not all gloom and doom, and I don’t walk around with a scowl on my face. I’m happy, like I said, but not truly, deep-down happy. I have a great class this year, N and I have a lot of fun together and, thanks to him, we laugh constantly. You know, there are happy things. But I am missing out on something that makes any person the happiest on the planet.

I am going in for a blood test this morning, as it’s CD 15. I hope to hear, “Ovulation is on its way.” If I hear, “You didn’t respond to this double dose of Clomid, either,” I might scream. But I’m going to take the positive route and say yes, it’s happening, hopefully in the next few days. I still really want to do my first IUI.

Taking the Paleo Plunge

I love how this blog has, in a way, grown with me as the months pass. I have charted every step of my TTC journey, but also my thyroid/auto-immune journey, and now, my diet journey. I like to see how far I’ve come, but I’m also reminded of how much further I need to go.

Many of you mentioned, regarding going Paleo, that I need to just take it slow, getting rid of one food at a time, and then, when I’ve gone full Paleo, bring back foods one at a time, to see how I feel. I agree completely, and that’s what I’m planning to do. I’m not going Paleo for environmental or weight loss reasons (though those are both great reasons to take this on). I’m doing it to feel better. So, if, after going full Paleo, I bring brown rice back into my diet and I feel fine, well then guess what? It’s back. I’m not going to deny myself foods that make me feel good. Of course, I know that all junk foods make me feel like garbage, so I know they won’t be reintroduced to my diet.

That said, at the same time, I feel like I’m making a “right now” life change. I know these sorts of diets are for life, but I can’t commit to that. My hope is that my auto-immune symptoms get themselves under control, and I have babies. After babies, if I’m feeling better 10 years down the road, and I take my kids to get ice cream when we vacation at the Cape (sorry, daydreaming a bit here), then yeah, I’m going to get a cone myself. I’m not going Paleo for life. I’m going Paleo for as long as it takes me to feel better.

My new diet will be more along the lines of Paleo-ish. I might bring back rice, quinoa, and hopefully, cheese. Or, I might not. In fact, I could end up realizing that it’s meat that bothers me (which would go along with what my ND said…anti-inflammatory means no meat…), in which case, I won’t be Paleo-ish, but Vegan-ish. That may end up being what feels best. But I’m starting with Paleo.

Yesterday, N and I went to the grocery store, after planning next week’s meals, and spent more money than I’d like on foods we can eat. I’m happy he is doing this with me – it’s always easier when everyone in the house is on board. For the first time in possibly my entire life, we have no milk in the house. We now have a carton of almond milk and one of coconut milk. We aren’t sure which we’ll like, so we’re trying them both. I have a feeling I’m not going to like either. We’re almost out of precious, precious shredded cheese, and we’re not replacing it (yet). The majority of our cart was filled with veggies.

Now, there are two types of Paleo diets, from what I can see. The first type is where you only eat ingredients that a caveman would’ve been able to find, but you can take those ingredients and do whatever you want with them. For example, this type of Paleo diet allows you to bake with almond flour and that sort of thing. You can have breads, muffins, and cookies. The other type of Paleo diet allows you to only eat ingredients that a caveman would’ve been able to find, but you can’t alter the ingredients. No baking. Some people even go mostly raw, and how they are able to not keel over and die, I’m not sure. Almond flour wouldn’t be allowed – just almonds. Anyway, one is clearly more strict than the other, and you can probably guess which one we’re picking. Yep, we bought both almond flour and coconut flour at the store yesterday. Due to their high prices, however, we decided only to bake with these things as special treats. I’m not going to make bread and have it every day for lunch. I will feel the healthiest when the majority of my diet is vegetables.

We aren’t going 100% until after our little vacation in 2 weeks, and we still are cleaning out our fridge and cupboards. Slowly, though, we’re going Paleo. I’m about to whip up some eggs for breakfast (those are going to get old, quick. Help?), and lunch will be a salad with chicken. N wants to splurge on our new almond flour and make a Paleo pizza for dinner. Tomorrow is Easter, and I will enjoy a piece or two of sugar-free candy. Monday, though, we hit the ground running until vacation. I’ll post recipes as long as they don’t suck, and hopefully something good will come out of all of this!

Hope for Clomid

So this thought has been spinning around in my head for a few days, and that’s how I know it’s time to share.

I am, of course, excited to be starting Clomid soon. Really, really excited. I’ve also been easily over-sharing the details of my infertility to people outside of the online blogging world, in real life. This hasn’t always been the best decision. I’ve just been in my own little world, anxiously waiting for my first treatment to my anovulation.

Recently, after declaring out loud, “I can’t wait [for Clomid]! I’m so excited – I just want to do this already!” someone said in response, “Well, you’re happy to start the process, you mean. It’s probably not going to be that easy.”

I’ve actually had a few people say something like this to me – so it’s not just this one. The person who said this particular comment to me did not mean this to sound – pessimistic. She’s actually been very supportive, as she had gone through similar experiences a few years ago, which has, at this time, not had a happy ending. I know she wasn’t trying to be negative; she was trying to be realistic and to help me keep an even head. I believe now that she was probably talking more to herself than to me.

Here’s the thing: After blogging (seemingly endlessly) about waiting, and patience, and being full of unanswered questions, I finally have an answer: anovulation, and a treatment: Clomid. I realize that it is my very first treatment to this problem. I also realize that of course, there’s probably a pretty decent chance that it won’t work, and I’ll have to move my treatments to the next level, IUI. Who knows, that might not work and I’ll be moving to IVF. I know all this.

If I don’t have hope that Clomid is going to work (and maybe naively, I do), then how could I possibly go through this process and keep my sanity intact? I’m not saying that if this doesn’t work I’ll be completely surprised, but I have to hope it will. And I do. In fact, I hope it works in the first very round. Doubtful? Yes. But I’m going to hope for it anyway.

I guess what I’m saying is this: in my opinion, if you’re going through fertility treatments, you have to be positive. If you aren’t, and you’re reminding yourself constantly that this probably won’t work, we’ll have to try something else – well then, you’ll drive yourself crazy. I am telling myself that Clomid is going to help me get pregnant so that I can have something to hope for while on Clomid. Otherwise, what would be the point?

To all of my new blogging friends who are at any step in the fertility treatments process, how did you handle comments like this? Did you keep positive thoughts through each type of treatment?