So I got my blood test this morning to confirm my non-pregnant status. The nurse told me to expect a call confirming my negative result after 2:30 and then they'd call in my Provera prescription. My phone rang around three and the nurse says, "Well, you're not pregnant...however..."
Wait!! What??!! There's a however?! What could the however possibly be?
"You ovulated." What?! My cycle day 12 ultrasound revealed many, unfortunately tiny eggs. I humored the doctor with a cycle day 20 ultrasound just to be sure, only to find even more unfortunately tiny eggs. And now on cycle day 32, you're telling me that, lo and behold, 100 mg of Clomid actually worked but too late for any of us to actually notice?!
Motherf%cker.
"You have to wait another week to see if your period arrives naturally, come in for another pregnancy test and then we can give you the Provera." Arrggghh....hell! I flash back to the past week or so....could I even be pregnant? No. I got wicked sunburn last week, on my inner thighs no less, and so sex was so not happening. I don't have a shot at being pregnant. And now I just have to wait another stupid week to get the ball rolling (I know, I know, it's a lesson in patience, blah blah blah, I don't wanna hear it right now).
I don't actually say any of that. My response is more along the lines of "Okay, thanks."
Here's the weird thing. I'm actually annoyed that I ovulated. I know what you're thinking, I should be grateful. But this is my blog so I get to be honest. I'm annoyed. For a couple reasons. First, we missed the big O so I never got to have the IUI. That part makes me want to kick my ovaries for d!cking around for the first 20 days. Second, and I've been pondering this part for awhile, (insert my whispering voice here) I don't think the Clomid is my answer. I don't know why. It's just a gut thing. I don't think Clomid is what's meant to give me a baby. I have no real rationale for this nor medical expertise, it's just my big hunch. And so I'm kind of aggravated because this means I have to spend more time taking Clomid since it actually did its job and made me ovulate. I have to spend more time on the treatment that I don't believe is the answer for me. I had already changed my mindset to one more month of Clomid and then moving on to the next step. I had done all of my reading up on injectables and had my game face on.
Now, I don't need anyone to leave me comments about how I'm negative and I should be counting my blessings. I know and I'm counting. I know that the fact that the Clomid worked is medically a good thing. I know the risks of injectables, especially with PCOS. It's just that I had already processed and accepted the fact that the Clomid didn't work. I'm a planner and I had already made my plan. Planners are not impressed when they have to change their plans. I had moved on from this cycle. And now....I have to make sense of things again.
OK, God. I understand that I don't get to control everything. Point made. And I guess thank you for the pleasant surprise of ovulation. I'm sorry it's taking me awhile to appreciate it. I promise to be on board with your plan by next week.
Showing posts with label PCOS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PCOS. Show all posts
Monday, June 16, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
A Day of Hope
March 21st- the best infertility day I’ve had yet…the day I went to my first RE appointment. I opted to go by myself. My husband doesn’t get tons of days off and I didn’t want him to use one on this visit when I knew I might need him with me for future appointments.
I didn’t realize how nervous I really was until I was waiting in the room for the doctor. My legs started jiggling and just wouldn’t stop. I read every poster in the room at least twice. I was practically rocking in my chair. A nurse popped her head in to say the doctor would be a little longer because someone just came in for an ultrasound. I asked her if I could get a magazine to distract myself. It turns out reading month old entertainment gossip isn’t all that distracting.
When the RE arrived, he reviewed all of my paperwork, examined my charts, explained the basics of both fertility and infertility and made a tentative plan with me right there on the spot. Then, he did my first ultrasound and before I left I had bloodwork done. I accomplished more in one hour then I had in the previous 8 months.
The ultrasound was interesting. Having what amounts to a sex toy with a condom on it put inside you by someone you’ve known for 45 minutes is an experience. He looked at my left ovary and said, “There’s a cyst. It looks like you very well may be ovulating.” He looked at my right ovary and said, “There are more cysts.”…….pause…….in my mind, the pause means I think he thinks polycystic ovarian syndrome.
“And…?” I ask. He mentioned the possibility of PCOS and said we’d talk more in his office. Then he was quiet again.
There’s such power in silence. So many muted words rushing through the air. Oh nos! were zipping back and forth across the room while the What ifs? circled lazily above my head. I stared at a ceiling tile as they all came to rest on the sheet draped across my legs.
We went back to the office and the doctor said that for now PCOS was probable and we’d be more certain when all my lab work was back. And, you know what? It was oddly comforting to know that something was wrong, even if it was just probable. Something with a name, that other women also dealt with and that had treatment options. Somehow it was reassuring. It had crossed my mind a few times in the prior weeks that the label (or non-label) of unexplained infertility made me uncomfortable. I'd had visions of a doctor shrugging his shoulders apologetically and announcing that he didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. That diagnosis wasn't tangible enough for me. PCOS felt more certain...something my inner control freak could address and make plans for.
As I left, the doctor told me I no longer had to temp. For a moment, I felt panic. No temping? How will I know if I ovulate? He reassured me that now it was his job to monitor and worry about that, and then he said,
"Every morning when you take your temperature, it's a reminder that your body is not doing what it should be. You start your day off with that message. You don't have to put yourself through that anymore." His tone was gentle, yet matter of fact. I loved him. A stranger, a man, understood what it was like to be in my shoes.
As I went to leave the office, I stopped at a bulletin board. Every possible inch of it was covered in birth announcements. Beautiful, tiny babies created with the help of the very office I was standing in. I was flooded with hope. Tears filled my eyes and I forced myself to walk away before I embarrassed myself by being that girl bawling in the hallway.
I was, and continue to be, overwhelmed that people take on the job of reproductive endocrinologist. This includes the nurses and office staff. I am in awe of them. I try to imagine being in their shoes, giving the news to a hopeful couple that a procedure has failed, taking the call from a pregnant woman who has begun bleeding, holding the hand of a woman trying again after yet another miscarriage. I bear the weight of only my own story while they shoulder the burden of so many women's heartbreaking journeys.
Without a doubt, they are doing God's work.
I didn’t realize how nervous I really was until I was waiting in the room for the doctor. My legs started jiggling and just wouldn’t stop. I read every poster in the room at least twice. I was practically rocking in my chair. A nurse popped her head in to say the doctor would be a little longer because someone just came in for an ultrasound. I asked her if I could get a magazine to distract myself. It turns out reading month old entertainment gossip isn’t all that distracting.
When the RE arrived, he reviewed all of my paperwork, examined my charts, explained the basics of both fertility and infertility and made a tentative plan with me right there on the spot. Then, he did my first ultrasound and before I left I had bloodwork done. I accomplished more in one hour then I had in the previous 8 months.
The ultrasound was interesting. Having what amounts to a sex toy with a condom on it put inside you by someone you’ve known for 45 minutes is an experience. He looked at my left ovary and said, “There’s a cyst. It looks like you very well may be ovulating.” He looked at my right ovary and said, “There are more cysts.”…….pause…….in my mind, the pause means I think he thinks polycystic ovarian syndrome.
“And…?” I ask. He mentioned the possibility of PCOS and said we’d talk more in his office. Then he was quiet again.
There’s such power in silence. So many muted words rushing through the air. Oh nos! were zipping back and forth across the room while the What ifs? circled lazily above my head. I stared at a ceiling tile as they all came to rest on the sheet draped across my legs.
We went back to the office and the doctor said that for now PCOS was probable and we’d be more certain when all my lab work was back. And, you know what? It was oddly comforting to know that something was wrong, even if it was just probable. Something with a name, that other women also dealt with and that had treatment options. Somehow it was reassuring. It had crossed my mind a few times in the prior weeks that the label (or non-label) of unexplained infertility made me uncomfortable. I'd had visions of a doctor shrugging his shoulders apologetically and announcing that he didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. That diagnosis wasn't tangible enough for me. PCOS felt more certain...something my inner control freak could address and make plans for.
As I left, the doctor told me I no longer had to temp. For a moment, I felt panic. No temping? How will I know if I ovulate? He reassured me that now it was his job to monitor and worry about that, and then he said,
"Every morning when you take your temperature, it's a reminder that your body is not doing what it should be. You start your day off with that message. You don't have to put yourself through that anymore." His tone was gentle, yet matter of fact. I loved him. A stranger, a man, understood what it was like to be in my shoes.
As I went to leave the office, I stopped at a bulletin board. Every possible inch of it was covered in birth announcements. Beautiful, tiny babies created with the help of the very office I was standing in. I was flooded with hope. Tears filled my eyes and I forced myself to walk away before I embarrassed myself by being that girl bawling in the hallway.
I was, and continue to be, overwhelmed that people take on the job of reproductive endocrinologist. This includes the nurses and office staff. I am in awe of them. I try to imagine being in their shoes, giving the news to a hopeful couple that a procedure has failed, taking the call from a pregnant woman who has begun bleeding, holding the hand of a woman trying again after yet another miscarriage. I bear the weight of only my own story while they shoulder the burden of so many women's heartbreaking journeys.
Without a doubt, they are doing God's work.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Well....here I am
Where I never really thought I'd be....creating a blog about trying to make a baby. It's actually surprising for two reasons. One, I am technologically impaired so I never even thought about creating a blog. Two, the husband and I are having a hard time creating a kid. I know, right? It's shocking. I never thought I'd be in this position.
This position started creeping up just this past holiday when I realized it had been a while since I had a period. I had gone off of the pill in July and was just "seeing what would happen". No charting, no temping, just seeing what would happen. A laissez-faire attitude seemed like the best way to approach this whole thing. So I got 2 periods, maybe the cycles were a little long but I wasn't concerned because I had just come off the pill. Things weren't necessarily supposed to just go right back to normal. But then right around the hecticness of getting ready for Christmas, it hit me that I hadn't had a period lately. When was the last one? Not in the past couple weeks...rewind...not at all in December...rewind...ummm, it was in the beginning of November. Hmmmmm.
The holidays wrap up, still nothing. I make an appointment with the gyno, he gives me the magic pills. Progesterone works and the 85 day cycle finally comes to a close. I bought the babymaking bible, Taking Charge of Your Fertility.
I took charge!...I studied my bible, I bought my basal body temp thermometer, I joined Fertility Friend and started charting, I bought my Mucinex/green tea/Evening Primrose Oil. And nothing. My body didn't seem to do any of the stuff that the bible said it would do because I am a beautiful, fertile woman blessed with the ability to create a child. Nope. Nothing. Damnit.
This position started creeping up just this past holiday when I realized it had been a while since I had a period. I had gone off of the pill in July and was just "seeing what would happen". No charting, no temping, just seeing what would happen. A laissez-faire attitude seemed like the best way to approach this whole thing. So I got 2 periods, maybe the cycles were a little long but I wasn't concerned because I had just come off the pill. Things weren't necessarily supposed to just go right back to normal. But then right around the hecticness of getting ready for Christmas, it hit me that I hadn't had a period lately. When was the last one? Not in the past couple weeks...rewind...not at all in December...rewind...ummm, it was in the beginning of November. Hmmmmm.
The holidays wrap up, still nothing. I make an appointment with the gyno, he gives me the magic pills. Progesterone works and the 85 day cycle finally comes to a close. I bought the babymaking bible, Taking Charge of Your Fertility.
I took charge!...I studied my bible, I bought my basal body temp thermometer, I joined Fertility Friend and started charting, I bought my Mucinex/green tea/Evening Primrose Oil. And nothing. My body didn't seem to do any of the stuff that the bible said it would do because I am a beautiful, fertile woman blessed with the ability to create a child. Nope. Nothing. Damnit.
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