Old Faithful

I needn't have worried about Day 3 falling on Christmas, because my trusty old vagina waited until Christmas Day for Day 1. This has happened several years in a row, so I ought to have suspected this year would be no different.

Normally this would be beyond irksome, but this year, of course, it's pretty good news because it means I get to go for Day 3 testing tomorrow. Day 3 testing is nothing new for me and I don't expect it to reveal anything interesting, but I do wonder about the many other tests they're going to run at the same time.

No one wants anything to be wrong with themselves, but I hope there's something wrong with me just so I can have an answer, finally. Of course, I want it to be something extremely fixable, too. I'm particular that way.

There will be more tests later in my cycle, so I won't have the full story until near the end of January, but, oh ... I wait with bated breath.

getting the ball rolling

What's that saying? The one about how if you have a problem with everyone, maybe you're the problem? After all, the common denominator is you.

I don't have a problem with everyone, but I do have a problem with most doctors. I've only ever had one doctor who helped me out. This was probably six years ago now, when I thought I was having panic attacks. She ran every test under the sun, and the results were super helpful. Turns out I wasn't having panic attacks; my heart is just a little jacked. Unfortunately, that doctor closed her practice.

I just saw a new doctor, and ... I am afraid to get my hopes up, you guys. I went in with my 7-page infertility questionnaire, told her it'd been over two years and two miscarriages, and said I wasn't interested in hearing about how I needed to have a third miscarriage in order for her to be concerned. She told me she wouldn't have said that, anyway. This may have to do with me being 34 years old now.

She is running 19 tests. Many of them are specifically for the repeated miscarriages. 

And she's running the progesterone test, guys. Why has it taken me this long to find a doctor who would run a series of progesterone tests? I've always suspected progesterone was the issue.

I'll also get a heart check-up to make sure I'm OK to actually carry a child since it puts stress on the heart.

Of course, I need to wait for the start of the next cycle before I can do any of these tests. Many of them need to be taken on Day 3 of my cycle. And when do you suppose Day 3 is projected to fall for me, since my cycle has been spot-on for the last several months? That's right. Christmas Day. This Murphy's Law shit is the story of my life. I've just called and confirmed that yes, all of the labs will be closed on Christmas. As they should be. So I will probably have to wait until the following cycle.

It's ok, really. I do feel very rushed to get my results, but it's been over two years already. Another month won't hurt.

rite of passage

Today our anonymous submitter from April has another piece for us to read. It's about something most of us in the (in)fertility game have done at least once, often a few times. Results vary. Personally, I'm enjoying the injection of a little humor, as I'm currently entertaining Aunt Flo. Hope you enjoy, too.

Last week, I got to experience something all new to me in the world of babymaking: I took my partner's sperm sample for testing. You know, just in case I'm not the only one with the infertility problem here (Yeah. Right).

A few days before our appointment, I made sure to get specific details from the lab on the who/what/when/where/and how of sperm sample delivery. According to this office in particular, the sample can be retrieved from home or there in the office, but it must be checked in for testing within one hour. I knew this would be the tricky part because my partner usually clocks in to work at 7:50AM, which means he leaves the house by 7:35AM, but the lab only opened at 8:30AM and was a good 30 minutes away from our house. I'm no math whiz and even I knew that meant I would need to have my game face when it came to delivering the goods.

So the morning of the appointment everything at home went off without a hitch. My partner and I wished each other a great day and I was on my way. As soon as I was on the road, this crazy James Bond 007 feeling came over me. It was like I was on a top-secret mission, dodging bullets, jumping cars to get this prized possession to an undisclosed location. The whole drive, I held the sample cup in between my legs because the sample needed to be kept at body temperature. I was kind of like a mother chicken. I felt like I needed those Baby on Board decals covering every inch of my car. DON'T PEOPLE KNOW I'M IN A HURRY??!? THIS IS A SPERM EMERGENCY!!! I probably studied the clock on my dashboard more than I did the road in front of me.

I ended up arriving at the testing facility with 15 minutes to spare. I have no idea how that happened. "Yes!" I thought, "Mission: Accomplished!!!" I was the first and only patient in the office. The receptionist handed me worksheet after worksheet to fill out. I felt like yelling at her "THIS SPERM ONLY HAS 15 MINUTES, YOU KNOW!?!??!!?!" but I didn't want her to press the secret under-the-desk buttons that you use when a crazy person is nearby and you want to summon the SWAT team.

The whole appointment only took about 10 minutes, but it seemed like the most valuable 10 minutes of my life. We haven't received the results yet because of last week's holiday. Until we do, I'll be on the edge of my 007 seat.

one word of advice

If you happen to be home alone and want to watch something funny, and you also happen to be infertile, may I suggest you refrain from watching "What to Expect When You're Expecting"?

Sweet Baby Jesus.

I admit it was a dumb move on my part, ordering that movie from Netflix in the first place. But I honestly thought it was going to be a funny ha-ha "look how much pregnancy sucks but being a mom is cool" movie. And it was some of that but it was also a lot of oh my god miscarriage and trying-for-two-years and IVF and bad eggs and adoption and ... I sobbed. It was really ugly. I should have turned it off and I didn't because I'm a glutton for punishment.


Lesson learned. No movies about pregnancy/adoption/infertility/babies. Not yet.

no news is just that

I took a couple cycles off from tracking and am about a week out from Big Red. I just decided I needed the mental break, besides which we went on a vacation, which makes tracking difficult. Lots of people say Maybe you'll make a vacation baby! Maybe we did, but I never have before, and I've been on a few vacations since we started this process. I've only ever conceived while tracking.

So I think I'm gonna let the Catholics take a stab at this. Have you guys heard of Napro Technology? It kind of cracks me up that they call it that ... it's just natural reproduction ... technology? They're all about reproduction strictly via sex, and to get there they're all about solving the underlying medical issue that is preventing conception.

Which -- isn't that what all doctors, regardless of religious affiliation -- ought to be doing?! Besides causing infertility, a number of underlying problems can cause other health issues, too. But none of the doctors I've seen have wanted to find out what's going on. They've wanted to throw Clomid at me, or have me try IVF. But getting them to run diagnostic tests has been nearly impossible.Why?! It makes me want to go back to school and become a gynecologist. If only it weren't for that whole poking around in the vagina thing.

Anyway, Christina tells me the doctor I am particularly interested in seeing does not mess around when it comes to miscarriage, so I take it she doesn't share the "it's not a problem until you've had three miscarriages" belief. Which would be a relief. It's just hilarious in a demented way, all my stupid doctors telling me after the first miscarriage: Now, you're gonna be worried about trying again, but everything will be just fine next time. And then when it wasn't they didn't say It will be fine next time again. Assholes.

In related news, I've kept up with Weight Watchers and the cardio kickboxing, and have lost 16 pounds since my highest weight this year. Halloween candy isn't doing me any favors, but I'm doing my best to stick with the program. I'm lighter than I was both times I got pregnant before, so that's good. I hope next cycle's BBT chart looks a lot more normal, but I won't get my hopes up.

chart pt. 2

Just more charting for those fertility nerds who are into this stuff. I admittedly haven't been the best charter, but with the numbers I've continued to log, Fertility Friend has changed its estimate of my ovulation date to Day 13. As a reminder, last week it'd said my probable ovulation date was Day 17. If I strictly follow Making Babies guidelines, it would be Day 19.

In reality, I'm on Day 29, not 27. Not sure how I screwed that up. Oh, and I checked -- not pregnant. Not surprising.

There are so many problems with charting, especially if your hormones are whacked and even more so if you're a sometimes-insomniac. The only way to know for sure if I even did ovulate would be to have an ultrasound. We're still working out the kinks in our new insurance, so yeah. No doctor's appointments until that's all figured out.

I've started taking The Supplement That Shall Not Be Named (TSTSNBN) and I'm curious to see if it affects the chart during my next cycle. I've also just joined Weight Watchers.

*sigh*

charting

Here's my BBT chart this cycle ...

That spike actually happened on Day 20 but I messed up the chart, so yeah.

The Machine said my LH surged on Day 14, but I didn't get a temperature spike until Day 20. It makes me wonder if I am ovulating at all this cycle, and if I am if I'm ovulating a cruddy egg.

It's annoying.

Anyway. My order of Pregnitude (or as it shall henceforth be known, The Supplement That Shall Not Be Named) is due to arrive Thursday, and I'm sort of excited to see what it will do for me. It's supposed to improve egg quality, help induce ovulation, and help you lose weight.

Here's a link to an interesting post on myo-inositol, the active ingredient in TSTSNBN. Tell me what you think ...


**update** fertility friend thinks I ovulated on Day 17. This is in direct conflict with what Making Babies says, which is that ovulation has occurred once your temperature jumps at least .4 degrees higher than the highest temperature over the previous six days. That only appears to have happened on Day 19. Today's temp fell back down to 98.2.

meh

It's Day 15 and I've just reached my peak fertile hurry-up-and-bone day.

Yep. God only knows what all is happening up in my Lady Parts, but we certainly have a surge of luteinizing hormone, and that's something, at least. Our new insurance kicks in about a week and a half from now, and then I suppose I can go harass some more doctors about my defunct vagina.

Meanwhile, a number of irritating things are happening. Nothing major, just minor annoyances that add up to make me feel bitchy. I'm sorry this isn't one of those uplifting infertility blogs where the girl just keeps plugging away optimistically until her vagina is like, FINE BITCH, you can have a baby.

Nope. It's not. Because I let things get to me. Let's list them! All the things! Ok, here we go.

- Weight loss. Dudes. Losing weight is hard. I've been on this diet that's making me a little stabby. You eat a combination of lean protein and complex carbs SIX TIMES A DAY. Planning for meals on this diet is stressful. And I am not especially enjoying the food. Meh.

- One of my facebook friends who announced her pregnancy at the same time I was miscarrying this last pregnancy. Normally I find her funny and awesome, but now I am inexplicably irritated by her. Today she said she is going to Disneyland and will be 25 weeks pregnant at the time and asked what shoes she should wear. I don't think anyone is going to have anything particularly insightful to say to her about this. You'll be pregnant. Wear comfortable shoes, for godssakes.

- Pregnitude. Really, Pregnitude? Ya couldn't come up with a better name than Pregnitude? As if being infertile weren't already demeaning enough, companies come up with the most irritating names for their products. That said, I've just ordered a box of Pregnitude, since lately the internet has been singing its praises. Let's face it: I will try fucking anything at this point. 

- Exercise. Exerting myself is not my favorite. Yes, I am lazy.

- Cleaning the shower. Worst chore ever.

- Former infertiles who forget everything about what it was like to be infertile because now they have babies and everything's awesome. It's really not their faults, because I would be exactly the same way. Who wants to dwell on the past when now you have a baby? Let's just call this what it is: Jealousy.

- Do I plan a vacation or not plan a vacation? Is it presumptuous of me to assume I might be pregnant at the time of said vacation? Yes, maybe. Is it possible to take a vacation if I'm pregnant? Sure. Problems, though: I don't want to be sick on vacation, and I don't want to fly in the first trimester (advice from Making Babies), and -- oh yeah -- I don't want to miscarry on vacation. But I will hate myself if I don't go on vacation, so fuck it. We're going.

- Articles with headlines like: "Father's Age is Linked to Risk of Autism and Schizophrenia." There's no turning back time, folks! Time to throw the dice and see how they land.

I'm sure that is quite enough bitching and moaning for today. I hope to return shortly and report on the wonders of Pregnitude ...

please hold

Hurry up and wait is the order of the hour. It's a good news/weird news week.

For starters, my OB (the bitch with a capital C) is leaving the medical group I go to so she can be a full time mommy. How nice for her. That sentence wasn't dripping with acidic sarcasm. In opposite land.

Anyway, it's fine, because as I say, she's a total cuntwozzle and I am just gonna pick a different OB in the same practice. Probably.

Probably, because yesterday my husband's old company acquired his new company, and our insurance is going to change. Things can only get better in that department -- nothing can be worse than "We're sorry your vagina doesn't work, now here is zero dollars to help with that."

So in anticipation of better coverage, I canceled a physical I'd scheduled at the fertility clinic on Tuesday, along with a round of blood tests that would have cost a couple grand. I'm OK with waiting another month or so.

In other fertility clinic news, they keep having this ignoramous call me and tell me things, when she clearly has no idea what she's talking about. It's becoming grating. She called Monday to tell me one of the doctors says two miscarriages in a row does not equal "a pattern of miscarriages." In their world, perhaps. Anyway, because of that, they do not feel any additional testing is warranted. I didn't argue with her because as I said, she knows nothing. I'd planned to attack the NP doing my physical for information yesterday, but that'll have to wait.

Finally, I pored over Making Babies and upped my vitamin intake to the level the book recommends. I will probably ovulate this cycle, despite the miscarriage, if the CM I'm seeing is any indication. I'm seeing more than normal, and I can only attribute this to the vitamins. I'm taking a lot more folic acid, and I've added vitamin C, NAC, and coQ10 to the mix.

The ignoramous on the phone says they don't generally recommend trying to conceive again directly following a miscarriage blah blah I've heard it all before. I wonder if three miscarriages equals a pattern? Hm. I'm not interested in finding out but I also wonder if it's possible two miscarriages in a row really isn't a pattern and there's maybe nothing wrong with me. I can clearly get pregnant; staying pregnant is the trick. I'm still losing tiny bits of weight at a time and am down about ten pounds, so hopefully that helps whatever might be jacking me up.

In any case, that's what's up right now. There probably won't be much to report until we get the insurance thing worked out. Til then!

(insert curse word)

Since what Making Babies calls my "early pregnancy loss" and what others may term "chemical pregnancy" or the charming "disintegration":

• I ordered an ass-ton of new vitamins. Because what if vitamins are the problem? Sure.

• I rescheduled a physical with the fertility clinic. Blah blah I hate everything. 

• A woman from the clinic told me "we don't test for progesterone" when I suggested that might be the problem. She is dead now because I killed her. 

• I composed a list of tests I want done, including progesterone testing. I am bringing it to my next appointment. If they won't order them, I am blowing the place up. Which I think is perfectly reasonable. 

•  My dominating emotion this go-round has been anger, if that's not readily apparent. I'm a true joy to be around. 

• I'm still not talking about it. I don't want to talk about it. After the first miscarriage I talked the fuck out of it and now if I have to talk about it I might hurt someone. 

Yep.

Second verse, same as the first

I may have just had a beer, which is not on the Dr. A diet plan, but allow me to explain.

Last Tuesday, I was scheduled to have a physical with a nurse at the fertility clinic I've recently begun using. I woke up and took a pregnancy test, just in case. And it was positive.

This moment in time -- this two-pink-lines moment -- was such a sweet plink on my timeline. Good god, second pink line. You could not have arrived at a more fortuitous moment in time. You are saving me thousands of dollars in doctor's bills. You are the indicator of the son or daughter I fully expect to come tearing out of my vagina in nine months.

I woke up my husband. He was astounded. I went to the drug store and bought various different types of pregnancy tests. I tested a total of five times and got a positive result each time. So I bought a baby name book. We discussed plans for the nursery.

And, of course, I canceled my physical. The doctor's office wanted me to have a blood test to confirm the pregnancy, so I blithely headed to a lab for a draw that afternoon.

This is where the sequence of events becomes droll and irritating and grey and possibly even infuriating.

The doctor's office called me back. Yes, you are pregnant, they said. But your HCG level is only 28.

HCG levels are supposed to double or triple every 48 to 72 hours.

I tested again on Friday. They called on Saturday. Your HCG level is only 32.

I tested again on Monday. I started bleeding Monday afternoon. I took a home test and it was negative. The doctor's office called Tuesday and the HCG level was 8. I informed them that I already knew I was miscarrying.

What a fertility clinic will never call this (because they want to keep you as a client) is a chemical pregnancy. Christina says: I hate that phrase. I hate it, too. It's demeaning. It's a real pregnancy but the difference is it's never seen on an ultrasound. It's an early miscarriage. It's a blessing in one way; I won't have to spend any number of hours hunched over on a toilet this time. But it's absolutely still a miscarriage.

Miscarriages are what happens to other women. Two miscarriages in a row is what happens to other women who have shitty fucking luck; not you. God, or the universe, or whoever it is you think is looking out for you out there: He or She would never let this happen to you. You don't deserve it, certainly. It's not fair, at all. You'd be a good mom, your deity knows.

But there it is, draining out of you. Draining out of me, a bright red river. Again.

I'm not sure what I should feel, and I'm not sure what I do feel. I feel a swarm of things that are buzzing around my head, really, and when I pluck one out of the air it's often something like: Rage, self pity, helplessness, seething anger.

Whether I am allowed to feel strong emotion about an early miscarriage, I'm not sure. I do, though. I did. I will. I don't know, really. I am confused. They said You miscarry once, then you get pregnant again and it's fine, and it wasn't fine. No.

I told my family and a few close friends, but most friends I didn't tell. If you are one of them, I'm sorry. Maybe you are one of them but you'll never read this, and that's OK, too. I can't discuss this over and over and over with everyone. I know you get it, or hope you do. I wanted to be pregnant at the same time as my other friends who were pregnant and I can't talk to them about it. They'll read it here: Hi, girls.

The only option is keep going, keep going, keep going. The woman from the clinic on the phone talks of next steps and tests and appointments and money and I answer with a voice that's small in my chest and I know it's the only option. 

Things I needed to hear

We had our consultation with the fertility specialist, Dr. A, and we really liked him. I went in to the meeting feeling irritable and left feeling hopeful. So that's definitely something.

And that's despite the fact that he spent at least 20 minutes talking about how I need to lose weight. He said it in the nicest way possible, really. And it's not like it was surprising news. I'd been planning to ask Dr. A about how my weight might be affecting my fertility, in case he was one of these docs who's too embarrassed to discuss it. Turns out, he's not.

He pointed out that weighing too much can result in higher miscarriage rates and make it much more difficult to become pregnant in the first place. He said losing weight would double my chances of conception. So really, I have no excuse now. None.

Other highlights:

- I'll be having a number of tests run. They include: a physical, a heart check-up (I have an arrhythmia and enlarged heart valve), a bunch of blood tests to check hormone levels and for STDs, at least one ultrasound to check endometrial thickness, and probably a hysterosalpingogram and a hysterosonogram (which: yikes).

- My husband will donate more sperm to the cause even though we finally found out his motility and count are way above normal -- information my gynecologist mysteriously refused to tell us.

- Dr. A suspects PCOS. He says treatment would likely be metformin and clomiphene.

- Dr. A emphasizes eating of whole foods (not packaged), getting plenty of sleep, exercise, keeping caffeine and alcohol consumption fairly low, and limiting toxic exposure to stuff like pesticides, solvents, beauty salon crap, etc.

- Dr. A has freed me from lying around in bed, waiting for sperm to magically swim to the right place. For that matter, he's freed me from the missionary position. BAM!

-  Sex should be happening every 1.5 to 2.5 days mid-cycle. He says every day is fine, but he refrains from telling people that because he's worried they'll get divorced. Ha!

Finally, Dr. A says my "chances are excellent." I know we haven't run any tests yet, but I feel relieved and hopeful, nonetheless.

A few pre-appointment thoughts

My consultation is next Tuesday. I'm still nervous, but possibly more annoyed than anything else. The whole "it's not fair" thing. Nope, life isn't fair, is it sweetheart?

So here are the thoughts I'll just bullet-point for today, since they're a bit jumbled for now.

• I hope that whatever treatment and tests I need don't exceed what's in our health savings account. Although we will pay whatever we need to, if we exceed the HSA funds, we are on the hook for all costs since infertility treatments aren't covered. Well, of course they're not! Why would they be?! Don't get me started. 

• I still need to get my records from my OB sent over. In speaking with the fertility clinic's rep, she asked if I had copies of previous test results or if I knew the numbers on the results. Which made me hate my OB just that much more. She basically refused to tell me the results of our tests a number of times, despite me repeatedly asking her. Just another instance of doctors believing they know better than their patients, and that patients are on a need-to-know basis. What a bitch. 

• I feel like I'm being dragged into this by my ankles, while I clutch desperately for a handhold. 

• I could have been born a boy. Sometimes I think about that when I'm fed up with being a woman.

• I stopped taking my temperatures, even though I know it's valuable information for the doctor. I think I'm just pissed off about the whole thing. I give up. Fuck taking temperatures. It's never helped me before. Fuck laying around for half an hour after sex. I have a friend who got pregnant after having sex, then drinking fourteen pina coladas while sitting in a hot tub. But I have to lie in bed with my legs in the air? Fuck that. 

•  It's funny who in my life cares (or seems to care) about this stuff and who doesn't.

• These pre-appointment moments are filled with "what extremes would I go to" hypothetical scenarios. Surrogacy, egg donation, sperm donation, adoption, IVF. You begin to wonder. 

•  This was never in the plan for me or my friends. Don't ask me what was; I just know infertility was not. I resent its presence. 

•  On the other hand, I'm brilliantly lucky to be able to seek treatment for this. I am grateful for that.

• I'm tired. 

Scheduling

For those (most, if not all) commenters who suggested I make the appointment with a fertility specialist immediately, I must explain something. We have probably not met, or else you perhaps do not know me well because if you did, you would know I live in 1) a perpetual state of denial and 2) a perpetual state of procrastination. So making the appointment before my period started was simply impossible. I'm not saying I did the right thing; I'm just explaining my neuroses.

So what happened was I started my period late Thursday night. Friday I went on a camping trip (which: what could be better? Camping while on your period? Obviously good times). Saturday I came home. Sunday I recovered from not sleeping on the camping trip. Monday I sorted out my insurance questions. Tuesday I scheduled a "new patient consultation" at a local clinic. The appointment is two weeks out, on the 26th.

Which leaves us at today: Wednesday.

I think we should play a game called "What's Your Damage?" We should guess what my problem is (if we are so inclined). For those who are familiar with symptoms/temperatures/fertility monitors, it might be fun. So here's my list of "ailments."

- been trying 2 years, with 1 miscarriage.
- 33 years old
- overweight
- fertility monitor says I ovulate
- basal temps suggest I do not ovulate, and there's no rise in temp in the second half of the cycle.
- cycles range from 24 to 32 days
- periods are not debilitating -- crampy first two days, then fine.
- no family history of infertility
- husband's sperm has been checked and is fine

So, whatcha think? I think high possibilities are progesterone deficiency and/or PCOS. Worst-case nightmare material = I am out of eggs/eggs are not viable.

Questions? Thoughts?

Live Now

No, I'm not dead. Yes, I am still infertile. 

I haven't been blogging here, because I felt like I haven't really had anything of use to add to the conversation. I am still not planning on getting pregnant, and in fact have been taking pregnancy tests just to make sure hell hasn't frozen over, pigs aren't flying, and I am not somehow knocked up. 

So, why am I blogging today*? 

I actually have something to say. Advice, if you will. Something I think will actually help anyone dealing with infertility. No, it's not about how to get a baby in your belly. If I knew that I would be writing a book and encouraging people to buy it and blog about it. Instead, it's about keeping your brains in your head, while trying to get a baby in your belly. 

Are you ready? 

It's pretty simple. 

Don't put your life on hold while trying to get pregnant. 

I know, that seems simplistic, and a little ridiculous. After all, how can anything be more important that the pursuit of parenthood? You are probably thinking you aren't putting your life on hold, you are pursuing the next level of your life. You are probably thinking I just don't get it. 

If you have read this blog though, or my other blog, I think you know I do. 

I am now 37 years old. I started trying to have a baby when I was 32. The five years in between were sucked into the vortex of infertility and adoption. I look back on the past five (almost six) years and I see a lot of regrets. More and more I see that a lot of them have nothing to do with infertility, but things I didn't do because of it. I didn't take job offers. I didn't buy nice clothes. I didn't plan trips. I didn't lose weight (I was sure I would get pregnant and then just gain it all back). I didn't take on projects I thought would take a lot of my time: like learning to play an instrument, or writing a book. I avoided family and friends who were fertile because I was not. I put myself on hold, making infertility the main focus of my life. I missed out. 

I don't want you to miss out too. 

If friends are planning a trip to Borneo in two months, GO. Don't think "I might be pregnant then, I better not." Worst case scenario you have to cancel and you are possibly out money. It will be worth it. It will also be worth it if you take up a hobby, take a job, go back to school, buy clothes that can in no way be worn as maternity clothing, and spend time watching children you love, even if it hurts at the time. 

It won't be easy. It will all be worth it. 

Live. And remember you are not alone. 

*This post was inspired by Mo over at Mommy Odyssey. 

Get on it

There are no changes since last week.

Temps are still too low. Ovulation is unlikely to have occurred. Aunt Flo should arrive shortly.

And my plan to wait until July has been booted out the window.

Because I'm making an appointment with a fertility specialist as soon as I get my period.

And I'm nervous as hell about it. 

Ovulation ... ?

Because my life follows Murphy's Law, I became rather ill during what The Machine told me were my most fertile days. We managed to get some good "work" done before I turned into the walking dead, and then I waited for ovulation.

And waited. And waited.

And then my temperature spiked on a morning after I'd slept fitfully. This was three days after my last peak fertile day, according to the fertility monitor. The previous night I'd slept two hours. I can't be sure if the temperature spike can be attributed to illness, or actual ovulation.

The next day the temperature dropped back down to pre-ovulation numbers. In case you're not familiar with how tracking basal temps works: Your temperature is supposed to spike when you ovulate, and then basically stay high for the rest of that cycle. If the temperatures drop back down, that's usually an indication of low progesterone, according to Making Babies. That's something I've suspected for a while.

But I gotta say, I am suspicious of that temperature spike. I don't think it's genuine. Next cycle's temperature chart will be more telling, as long as I don't come down with The Crud again. But honestly, I don't think I ovulated.

MB says the most common anovulatory condition is PCOS, and that 10 percent of women have it. I've never been diagnosed. Post-miscarriage the ultrasound showed only one unruptured cyst, but that's been seven months now. Who knows what my ovaries have been up to since then.

Most women with PCOS have weight issues (yes), hair in unwanted places (hello mustache), and insulin resistance. I've been tested for insulin issues a number of times -- my sister has Type 1 diabetes and I'm overweight, so doctors probably assume I'm a ticking time bomb. But the results have always come back normal.

However, there are actually two faces of PCOS; one that involves insulin resistance, and another that involves hyperandrogenism -- elevated androgen levels result from unruptured cysts. I don't know if I've ever been tested for that, but you can bet I'll be asking for it. 

MB says the best at-home remedies for PCOS are eating well and exercising. Unfortunately, "eating well" for PCOS means something close to the Atkins diet. The disease responds well to it. And the book says, encouragingly, that the majority of women with PCOS can get pregnant naturally. 

So, as usual, I'm basically self-diagnosing. Something else entirely could be causing my temperatures to be off. In any case, I'm still planning to give it one more cycle, and then it's off to the doctor. I'll reluctantly give low-carb eating a shot for the next month and keep trying to knock off the pounds. Diet, exercise, and The Crud helped me lose another few pounds since last week, so I'm on the right track. 

Soy

I realized the other day that there is soy in my hippie-dippy, outrageously expensive, organic, "made with whole foods" prenatal vitamins.

And then I noticed soy is also an ingredient in what I believed to be a healthy dark chocolate bar I'd purchased.

And you know ... maybe soy is fine in the form of non-GMO soy lechithin, but I still don't want it in anything I'm eating. I just don't. If that makes me a crunchy hippie or a bandwagoner, so be it.

Are you up on the evils of soy? If you're in this (in)fertility game, you probably already know what I'm talking about. And if you don't, this might be worth a read.

In short, soy is an estrogen mimicker. Estrogen is a hormone that already occurs naturally in your body. You don't need or want more of it because it will jack you up. Especially if you're like me and you've got a few pounds to lose -- excess fat already equals excess estrogen. The last thing you want to do is put more of it in your body.

Here's an interesting post about soy from Naturally Knocked Up; I know she won't touch the stuff with a ten foot pole.

Foods soy is in: Tofu, edamame, soy milk. Fermented soy products like tempeh and soy sauce are supposed to have a decreased estrogen-mimicking effect, but I'm not sure I even want to risk it.

*****

So enough preachiness for today. Nothing much is new over here. I lost one more pound. I'm still guzzling raspberry leaf tea. I've been taking my morning temps; they're rather low and flat-lined so far. And I started The Machine back up. It's telling me ovulation is approaching. I'm waiting for it to confirm that it actually happens. Fingers crossed.

Balls out

I knew I likely hadn't ovulated for at least two months, so starting my period four days early wasn't entirely surprising.

What was surprising was that instead of wallowing, loading up on chocolate, and uncorking the closest bottle of wine, I enthusiastically drafted my Plan of Attack for this cycle. I touched on it in the previous post, and boy howdy, it is in action.

New pee sticks for the fertility monitor have been ordered and are en route. My thermometer and the Making Babies book are bedside. I've just guzzled my second enormous mug of raspberry leaf tea today, and my innards are buzzing with vitamin B12. I've taken to walking around the neighborhood twice a day, and now my neighbors just peer at me quizzically while they water their lawns. I've lost five pounds over the last several weeks; not huge, but I'll take it. Fruits and veggies are my friends and I've managed to mostly avoid gluten and sugar (excepting a couple of transgressions on Mother's Day, but who can blame me?). This week I started a dairy detox.

Basically, I'm not fucking around here.

And as I mentioned previously, I'm giving it until July before I put my fertility issues in the hands of a specialist. If I need to go back to a doctor, I'm not jacking around with my regular OB anymore.

But if the universe is willing, I think I can make this happen on my own. I got a surge of hope, and I'm clinging to it like a life raft.

Love Letter

Dear Baby-Longing Mama, 

I've been thinking about you, soul sister. 

It's May and almost Mother's Day and it feels like everywhere you go someone is holding a swaddled newborn in their arms. 

I know you would rather pretend it doesn't matter, but it's OK to let your heart break a little. It's OK to let yourself feel the brokenness of wanting something you're not sure you'll ever have. 

Nobody wants to dwell in what is difficult, but you can say this is hard. You can take a moment to sit in the sadness and the anger and not get stuck. 

The thing itself ~ the not having what you want ~ it doesn't define you. There's not a woman on earth whose life has turned out exactly as she imagined. 

While I don't know precisely what will happen, I really think everything is going to work out. I have to believe this suffering is making way for something beautiful. 

It's just hard to see it right now from our point of view. 

All my love,
C

PS: Nothing new in my neck of the woods.

Anovulation

Through a series of observations, like:

1. Ovulation tests
2. Monitoring of cervical mucus
3. Observance of non-pregnant status

... I have determined I am not ovulating.

I've also diagnosed myself with Lotsa Fatitude with Extreme Estrogen, which I believe is causing my anovulation. Making Babies says fat releases lots of estrogen. If there's too much fat on your body, you might as well be taking a birth control pill.

I've given myself til July to rectify the issue. If it's not solved by then, I'll be seeing a doctor again.

Plans are:

1. Walking 5 miles a day
2. Drinking buttloads of raspberry leaf tea
3. Taking buttloads of B vitamins, among other supplements
4. Abdominal massage, as recommended by Making Babies
5. Dust off The Machine (my very fancy ovulation predictor)
6. Track basal temps

I've quit coffee and am slowly cutting out "acidic" foods. I've removed gluten, sugar (although I've flubbed here and there) and most starches from my diet. Next up is dairy, then alcohol (*sob*).

So, two months. We'll see what happens. It's frustrating, and I'm getting anxious, and I don't want to be anxious.

Due Date

My due date was on Sunday, April 22.

For some reason, there was a plethora of births this month, and more to come. I guess everybody was getting busy in August.

It was floating there on the bottom of my consciousness for the first couple weeks of the month, and then it felt like I was a nail and it was hammering me into the ground and I did, of course, have my own special little breakdown on and off for several days.

I don't want to self-indulge. I don't want to express my want for a baby; it's obvious. I don't want to cheapen anyone else's experience or my own. 

I just want to acknowledge the coulda-been-baby that would've been keeping me up all night, this week, if everything had gone as planned.

And I want to acknowledge the women in my life who have miscarried. I had no idea what you'd been through. If I'd known, I'd have shown more compassion and poured more wine. There's so little importance placed on miscarriages in our culture, for some reason. And perhaps even some kind of shame attached to it. I don't want to examine why, I just want to say: I get it now.

Guest Post: Combining Western and Eastern Medicine

There's been a lot of radio silence on good ol' Tired & Stuck, so today I'm bringing in a post from a gal I met on the Internet just over a year ago. I'd been a fan of her blog for some time, without realizing she is also "fertility-challenged." Since that discovery, we've bonded over our hatred of our periods, cramps, and mysterious lady defects. She's got a much more take-charge attitude when it comes to making a baby a reality for herself; I admire that and aspire to be more like her. 

She has offered to write this anonymously, as she and her partner are not ready to make this part of their lives public. But, she promises to follow up with further posts later on so we can read about how everything worked out.

I've been a follower of Tired & Stuck since day 1 and I've always found the stories posted here to be of huge interest to me. Even though I wasn't necessarily trying to conceive at the time, I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I was part of the I-want-a-baby-WHY-CAN'T-I-HAVE-A-BABY??!? club. (I'll explain that part later.)

Erin was gracious enough to let me do a guest post because, although I'm not following the Tired & Stuck methodology, I AM trying to get in on that sweet baby action. And if you readers are anything like me, you get big sighs of relief when you come across experiences similar to your own.

So before I get to the good stuff, let me lay out all the details, TTC-style.

-Early 30's.

-5th cycle TTC

-No previous pregnancies

-Left ovarian cyst

-Small uterine fibroids

-Endometriosis

So where do I start...?

I began having excruciatingly difficult periods around 3 years ago. I ended up going off the pill because I attributed my constant upset stomach and tiredness to birth control. Unfortunately, it was actually birth control that was keeping things somewhat in check. After doing tons of symptom research with my lab partner, Dr. Google, I kept ending up at the same answer: Endometriosis.

I was in my doctor's office on a regular basis for one ailment after another, all related to my period. Since most of my symptoms had to do with "the back end", my doctor scheduled me for a colonoscopy. A few days after I had the procedure done, the specialist called with my results: Endometriosis. (Yes. Endo in my colon. I get the best of both worlds.)

Up until now, I've avoided the laparoscopy route. Partly because I know there's a chance the adhesions will come back, and partly because I would have a whopper of a copay. And if I'm going to fork over that kind of money, I better be walking out of that hospital with a baby in my arms.

For the most part, I'm pretty old fashioned and "Western mediciney", and have always solved my ailments with a handful of Tylenol. And I also always assumed that my general practitioner would give me the 100% A+ right answer whenever I had a problem.

But it was when I got to a virtual dead-end (ie., surgery) that I started looking elsewhere.

Acupuncture and Traditional Chinese Medicine.

A friend referred me to a local fertility acupuncturist whom she had heard great things about. Even though I was doubtful about this "hippie" stuff, I figured it couldn't hurt.

Well...

I am not exaggerating when I say I could tell a noticeable difference after the FIRST VISIT ALONE. All of my endometriosis symptoms had significantly decreased. My upset stomach was gone. I had energy. It was GREAT.

I've been maintaining my acupuncture appointments on a weekly basis. And I also make sure to take any herbal supplements my acupuncturist gives me. Since I'm not really sure which of the two has the magic touch, I gladly do them both.

A few weeks ago, my OBGYN gave me a prescription for Clomid. And naturally, I zoomed home and read every TTC thread on the planet to see what side effects I should expect, what the success rate is, how it will effect my ovulation and hormones, etc. And of course, the internet didn't fail in presenting a myriad of horror stories related to Clomid.

Luckily, it's been a breeze for me (so far).

Within two hours of taking my very first pill, I could feel lightning bolts from my ovaries, going down my legs. However, it sounds a lot worse than it was and I fell asleep shortly after the sensation started. That night and the next night I slept like a log. Seriously. I was comatose.The following days it was like I was in a Nyquil haze.

Those were the only symptoms I had while actively taking the Clomid.

At 4 days after taking my last pill, some new symptoms kicked in. I noticed that I had been light-headed and dizzy and almost felt like I was going cross-eyed. And I had horrible indigestion on-and-off for a couple of days. Upset stomach, heavy pressure on my chest, knot in my throat, and even burps. Weird symptoms considering it's supposed to be working on my baby-maker, not my digestive system. (It sounds bad, but it was definitely manageable.) 

At my acupuncture appointment (day 7 of cycle), my ovaries were very tender when my doctor put the needles in. When I mentioned it, he said it's probably due to the Clomid and "all the action going on in there". That made me feel good, like maybe my ovaries weren't being jerks anymore. He then rigged up some Frankenstein-style machine to my ovary-area needles and ran a VERY light current through them. It was very mild and I could barely even feel it at all. However, once it had been working for a few minutes, I was getting the lightning bolt feeling again. This time, it went from my right ovary down my right leg, and from my left ovary up my torso.

This shooting pain took place every few seconds and the whole thing lasted several minutes. It was much stronger than the time before. I noticed I was tense, and as soon as I made myself relax, the pain lessened significantly. I asked my doctor what the electric stimulation is supposed to do. He responded that it brings a lot of blood to the area, which makes things nice and healthy.

I liked that answer.

On the afternoon of cycle day 12, I thought I noticed CM. -Which was unusual because I pretty much stopped noticing that stuff when I started the pill a million years ago. So I decided to do an OPK just for shits and giggles. Lo and behold - a smiley face. Looks like the CM actually increased for me (contrary to what most women experience, based on the fertility threads I've read). I tested again the following morning. And again, a smiley face. Yay! My insides are working! That second day I felt light stabbing pains near both of my ovaries all day. Mittelshmerz is not something I've experienced before. So, again - Yay!

On cycle day 16 I noticed the only annoying side effect I've experienced so far. Hot flashes. I had actually been looking forward to getting these infamous hot flashes because I'm always cold and I figured it would warm me up. Unfortunately, these hot flashes didn't warm my whole body. Instead, it just felt like I threw my cheeks on the barbecue. I even had a low temp of 99.4, which totally confirmed the burning in my face.

So here I am today. Cycle day 18. And I feel great! I'm still surprised that so far, it seems like Clomid has made my body NORMAL. My guess is that I had some kind of hormone deficiency going on and I needed this extra boost. I really feel super hopeful! And now that I have these tricks up my sleeve, I feel like I'm ready to show infertility who's boss.

Day 2

When I decided I wanted kids, I knew I wanted two. I'm into replacement-rate population growth and I feel like someone has to offset the number of kids being born to morons with kids born to people like me: Educated morons.

But at this point my desire is as such: I want one kid. If I can have just that one kid, I'll be happy as a clam. I won't complain if I can't have two. I'll take the one kid and do my best with her. I just want the one chance to see what happens when you combine mine and my husband's DNA.

I am having difficulty getting past the feeling that our inability to have a kid is my fault. I honestly feel like if I could just lose weight and be healthy, this wouldn't be an issue. Lots of people say Yes, but many women who are much larger than you have conceived, and I know this, but I still think what I do.

And then I think What kind of lousy person can't make weight loss happen for herself when she wants something so badly? Seriously. It makes me hate myself for being so weak. Which makes me want a cookie. It's a vicious cycle.

I am working on it, actively. Every day I think about it. I am constantly coming up with new schemes and plans, believing one has to work, eventually.

Relax; la deuxième partie

Thank you Google Translate, first of all. I'm no Francophone -- I know bonjour, merci, and adieu. Oh, and baguette. Definitely baguette.

Speaking of which, if you're ever in France, never actually speak to the French unless they are speaking to you first, and if you are speaking to them, always say bonjour first. This is some kind of ingrained weird French thing where if you don't say bonjour they basically hate your fucking guts, regardless of whether or not you are a stinking American (said in French accent).

Related: Why are we all so fricking terrified of the French? We are terrified of rude people, is that it? And why are the French so off-putting? I mean, stereotypically, anyway. I've known perfectly nice French people, and I assume they are the exceptions.

I'm off topic, as usual. What I'm writing about today is this book I'm reading. It's called "Bringing Up Bebe; One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting." I realize it's utterly ridiculous for me to be reading this, since I have zero children and my womb is still empty. I should be reading more books about how to have sex and make babies, right? (Speaking of which: Kudos to the asshole anonymous commenter in my last post who asked if I'm "fucking enough." There aren't enough capital letters in the universe to express how I felt when I read that comment. But I'm going to give it a shot, anyway. DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME I'M SUPPOSED TO BE HAVING SEX IN ORDER TO CONCEIVE A CHILD?! I THOUGHT IF MY HUSBAND AND I HELD HANDS AND RUBBED OUR EYEBALLS TOGETHER THAT WOULD DO THE TRICK. NO?? If my sarcasm does not make it clear, I will now be blunt: Fuck the fuck off, and do not come back.)

Well, I figure one way or another, I'm having a kid. Doesn't matter how. And I have been hearing and reading so much about this book, that I just had to read it. The author says French kids are well-behaved. They sit quietly at tables in restaurants and eat regular food; not deep fried "kid food," they are polite, and overall they are the masters of the universe. I wanted to know how and why. Because American kids are nuttybars. Everywhere I go people's kids are going batshit insane. There is no quiet meal. There is no peaceful play. Everything is crazypants.

And I'm learning a lot. Some of it I agree with and some of it is bull shit. But early on in the book, something the author said struck a chord with me. She wrote about how American women obsess over things. Everything, really. And pregnancy, especially. An American woman gets pregnant and she's got to read every damn thing ever written on the topic to make sure she doesn't do anything wrong and eats all the right stuff and does the right exercises and buys all the right things. Unsurprisingly, the French are much more laid back about pregnancy (and everything, really. It's difficult to imagine a French person getting overly-excited about anything).

And I realized I, myself, have been crazypants over this whole having a baby thing. Sure, it's been a long time since I initially started trying, and yes, there was a miscarriage, and holy shit yes it does make me anxious being 33 and not having any babies. Zero. I had to go and read every book and every web site and every blog ever written on the topic. I know way too much about every possible female reproductive issue that exists. I know way too much about cervical mucus. I charted temperatures and peed on sticks every day for months and, perhaps not least of all, I started this blog with two other women who were (and still are) in similar situations.

I've toned it down considerably, and it makes me feel so much saner. Things work out; they just do. Even if it doesn't seem to work out, it does. I haven't even been able to read any more books on fertility. I scaled my read-list of fertility blogs down to a select few women who I feel close to now. Ironically, they've almost all managed to get pregnant, although not all have stayed that way. I don't chart temperatures, and when it comes to the dreaded mucus, I simply take note and carry on. There is certainly no peeing on sticks, except for once a month when I do break down and take a pregnancy test. My period usually starts about ten minutes later.

My whole point, if there is one in this diatribe, is we all need to relax. I know. I've gone and said it. I'm not saying to put your head in the sand and act like pregnancy is just going to happen out of the blue. I'm just saying all this over-learning and obsessing isn't helping anything. At all. It turns us into basket cases. I want to relax for a few more months, and if nothing's happening, it's time for plan B. But I'm not going to obsess over plan B. I can't. Plan A made me nuts and there's no more room for more insanity in my brain than I've already shoved in there. So let's relax for a bit, eh? Oui? 

Second guesses

Because I am not above gloating, I just want to say I told you so. I told you Snooki was pregnant. You cried foul, and now I'm saying How you like me now? 

The key to determining whether a celebrity is pregnant is you have to ask yourself: Self, does anyone in their right mind give a shit about this person? If the answer is No, then that person is pregnant. If the answer is Yes, then 50% of the time, that person is pregnant. If the person is gay, subtract 20 percent. If the person is unmarried, add 20 percent. If the person is over age 35, chances are 90 percent.

I'm glad we had this talk.

Now, FYI, Uma Thurman is pregnant. She is 41. This will be her third child. More power to her.

The baby thing is inescapable. There's no use in trying to block it out; it's ever-present. Avoiding baby-related things is futile -- everyone who hasn't been in your situation will never understand why you feel the way you do, and they will think you are 1) An asshole for trying to avoid baby-related things and 2) Self-centered.

It's best not to admit that baby-related things make you feel like you might scream uncontrollably. They won't understand.

They might think they do, but they don't and can't, and it's not their fault. The best of friends who have never been through this don't get it, but at least they accept you for the crazy person you've become and they are well-stocked with wine.

I wonder: Maybe I am not supposed to have kids. Maybe I just want kids because everyone else has kids. Maybe I just want kids because I want to give my parents and my father-in-law grandkids. Maybe I just want kids because my husband wants to be a father. Maybe I would be an unfit mother. Maybe this is natural selection or evolution or the Earth's way of saying please stop overpopulating.

I wonder: Maybe I only care because I think I am supposed to care.

But then it wouldn't hurt so bad.

That whole setting myself up for disappointment thing

Well, it didn't happen this cycle, even though I had some kind of ridiculous faith that it would. It's a tad bit worrisome. People who miscarry are most fertile in the three months following a miscarriage, and I'm on month 4. Yarrrrgggggh.

By the way, Drew Barrymore is pregnant. You're welcome. Also, so is every-fucking-body else, and their best friends and their dogs and cats.

Pregnancy's for the birds, anyway, don't you think? I've been hearing tons of pregnancy horror stories lately. I heard three late-term miscarriage (technically stillbirths I guess) stories recently. I mean, these are people who know people that I know. The degree of separation is much too small for my comfort. 

You want to think that if you can just make it through the first trimester unscathed, you're good. But that's not necessarily the case. Which is terrifying.

Anyway, there are good stories out there, too. Really good stories that aren't necessarily mine to tell, but fall within the miracle realm. Those kinds of stories make me really happy. They make me want to keep trying.

A little magic

If all the ladies I know in real life who wanted to be pregnant at this moment were suddenly pregnant, there would be around eight of us.

It astounds me that I personally know this many people who have tried for years to get pregnant, with limited success. I say "limited" because a couple of us have miscarried, which seems to imply the ability to at least become pregnant. Some of us have had surgery, some of us are taking weird medications, some of us have undergone IVF, some of us have adopted, and some of us have given up. Our physiological issues run the gamut, and some of us are not sure what exactly our physiological issues are; we just know whatever we've been trying, it ain't working.

Just recently I began feeling that old feeling I used to have. The opposite of hopelessness. A quasi-confidence that this will work out for most of us. I started to fantasize about how it would be if myself and my fertility-challenged friends all conceived at the same time. We'd be pregnancy buddies, and then mommies together, and what could be more perfect than a triumph like that?

These are dangerous thoughts. Hopeful thoughts usually lead to disappointment somewhere around Day 30 of my cycles. I'm not sure if I should try not to be hopeful. Actually, I'm not sure if I can quell it.

I suspect part of the reason for my new hope is my niece, Ava, who's 9 weeks old today. I've been taking care of her a few days a week while my sister works, and unsurprisingly, I have grown attached. I read a book that said you should talk to your baby. About anything and everything. So I talk quietly to her, and I tell her about everything. I tell her about her uncle, and her grandparents, and her mommy and daddy, and I tell her about my cats and how some day I plan to give her a cousin. And I'll be damned if that kid doesn't smile. She seems to enjoy being spoken to, and it usually lulls her to sleep. She's successfully removed a chunk of my heart and she keeps it with her, wherever she is.

Ava has renewed my hope; it's pretty certain. If a miracle like her is possible, then I suppose just about anything can happen.

What I'm Keeping

For the past few weeks I have eaten like crap, drank copious amounts of Diet Pepsi and wine, not taken a single vitamin, and sung "pregnant women are smug" in my head every time I have encountered into someone with an obviously functioning reproductive system. I have basically wallowed in my infertility by setting fire to all of the work I had done trying to "fix" it.

But, now, it's probably time to move on. After all, just because I'm infertile doesn't mean I want to die young. Or fat. Or angry.

I am re-evaluating all of the things I was doing in the name of trying to get pregnant, and deciding what I want to keep in the name of having a healthier, and happier life. I can tell you right now though, all of the supplements are definitely not the "keeper" list. Neither is visualizing my uterus -- f it doesn't want to co-operate with me, the less I want to think about it. Oh, and the only sticks I am peeing on are the ones I will have to when camping.

I am going to recommit to healthier eating, especially cutting down on carbs in favor of protein and vegetables. I find when I do that I am not as hungry, and I feel better. So, while habit will tell me to reach for a bagel, it will now have to deal with the fact I will go for yogurt and fruit instead. And I am once again cutting back on wine and Diet Pepsi. Actually, in the case of the Pepsi I am attempting to cut it out again. I've read too much about other health effects to not feel like I'm drinking battery acid every time I pop open a can.

I am still torn on whether or not to continue with the acupuncture. On one hand, I really love it, and found it to be the high point of all of my fertility trials. On the other hand, the woman I was seeing is A) expensive, and 2) specializes in fertility. If I want to continue with it I need to find someone cheaper, who every time I see her isn't going to remind me of my rotten eggs. Maybe someone who specializes in weight loss...

So, that's my plan for now. Maybe next month I will try to stop singing the "smug" song too, but for right now, I'm holding on to that tune. I'l work on the not dying angry stuff later...

FML

Snooki is pregnant. 

I rest my case.

Where's a vat of tequila when you need one?

What food can do to you

I subject my facebook friends to my hippie leanings on practically a daily basis, and today it's your turn.

There is no way I can possibly stress enough the importance of avoiding genetically modified food, and food that has been treated with pesticides, especially if you are trying to get pregnant. This stuff wreaks havoc on the human body. I can point you toward any number of resources if you're interested in more information on this stuff. For today what I've got is a 12-minute video of an interview with a farmer from Iowa whose pigs became sterile when they were fed genetically modified corn. When he brought this to the attention of the seed manufacturer, Monsanto, he was figuratively slapped down like an annoying fly. This company and others like it care about one thing, and one thing only: Making as much money as they can. They don't care how this could affect generations of humans.

Please, please, please avoid genetically modified food and choose organic whenever possible. And please be aware that genetically modified corn is in almost every processed food that exists in the form of corn syrup and other additives.

The GMO corn this guy fed to his pigs contained something that mimics estrogen. How in the world can we maintain a healthy hormonal balance when we're, in essence, unknowingly adding extra hormones into our bodies? 

The "Why" Of It

I am having my worst period in recent memory right now. It's like my uterus is trying to make a break for it now that it knows I'm not going to try and grow anything in it any more. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up tomorrow to a crudely scrawled note reading "take care, Toots, taking the ovaries with me." Part of me would be willing to buy them a bus ticket.

I will never know why I wasn't able to get pregnant, which is why I think it took so long for me to reach the end of the line. All of my plumbing allegedly works. Yes, I was told I had "polycystic ovaries" but I have come to learn that really means "we aren't quite sure what's wrong, so here's something you can tell your friends." There are women with polycystic ovaries who get pregnant all the time, without any help. Some of the most fertile people I know have polycystic ovaries.

My husband's junk works too. In fact, when the fertility doctor first looked at his sperm counts he said they were "impressive." For a minute I thought Ryan was going to order a t-shirt to let the world know. I still feel bad that he will not have a biological child, because out of the two of us he really does have some traits the world of the future will need. He says he doesn't care, and I know he's telling me the truth, but there's still a part of me that feels I failed him in some way. I'm hoping that will go away as this process goes on.

I don't know if having a clear reason would really help though. I know women who know exactly why they can't get pregnant, and it doesn't seem to make it any easier. In the end, reason or not, we all feel left out and cheated, and then we have to decide what to do with those feelings.

Right now I'm drowning mine in Midol, and allowing myself to wallow until the bleeding stops. I figure I'll get back to "operation positive attitude" in two to three days.

I mean, unless my uterus gets out before then...

*Thank you all for your positive comments (and in one case really yummy cinnamon bread) after last week's post. Your support means a lot to me.

Moving On

It is time for me to make peace with the fact I will never bear a child.

Typing that is hard. Really hard. It makes it more real. I guess that's why I haven't done it until then.

I actually came to this realization about six weeks ago, about the last time I posted on this blog. I was in the middle of a total nervous breakdown, depressed to the point of feeling like the whole world would be better off without me. It wasn't my normal depression, there was something much worse -- an edge to it. It was distinctly hormonal. I googled prometrium and found it can have a profound effect on those with depression. And in that moment? I knew I had to be done.

It isn't just that one medication had a bad side effect. It was the culmination of all the things I have done in the past five years in the attempt to get that double line on a pregnancy test. It was the multiple ways I have beaten the shit out of myself -- physically and emotionally -- to achieve this goal. It was the fact that for half a decade I have focused on little but this, and the realization that I could be using that energy to another end.

I am not saying that this is an "all at once" change in attitude. To be honest, I am still ambivalent. I still have all the different tests in my cabinet, and I can't help but notice the consistency of certain bodily fluids. There is still that voice in my head saying "well, maybe if you..." but it slowly be drowned out by the bigger voice saying "this can be the end, and you will be okay."

I am sure there are some of you saying "well, she has a baby, so it's easier for her." It may be, because I've never been in anyone else's shoes. I don't know how hard it has been for them, only how hard it has been for me. And it has been hard. My body has failed me at something it was supposed to do; something that would affirm me as a woman; something that so many other people so maddeningly easily can do. It makes me angry, and sad, and makes me doubt there is a God.

That's why it's time for me to move on.

It's time for me to focus on the positive -- the "cans" instead of the "cannots."

If you want, I can continue sharing my journey here -- moving beyond a different kind of "Tired and Stuck."

I think it will be a good one.