Cup o' Mud

I've replaced my morning coffee with a steaming cup of dirt, and yes, I can tell the difference.

Okay, so it isn't technically dirt. It's herbs. Expensive herbs! Herbs that are supposed to kick my reproductive system into high gear, and improve the impacts of the acupuncture! Herbs that are specially formulated for me, and my energies! Of course, none of that changes the fact they are herbs that make chicory look like an appetizing alternative.

Really, I don't remember eating dirt as a kid, but this is what I picture it tasting like. I mean, this is a little spicier than dirt, so maybe it's the dirt that people would serve to company on on Christmas visits, but it's still dirt nonetheless.

My acupuncturist told me the best way to drink the herbs is to put them in as little water as possible, so I wouldn't have that much to drink. Yeah, that is exactly the opposite of what anyone should do. Just a little bit of water makes it into a paste. That means not only do I get the full effect of the taste, but I end up with a nice herby film all over the inside of my mouth. NOT GOOD.

Obviously, my acupuncturist never drank Slimfast when it first came out and was like drinking quicksand. The procedures I followed then are exactly what I follow now. First, more liquid than needed. That gives the powder more of a chance to dissolve. And if it doesn't dissolve in the first cup? Fill a second. Never, never, suck the sludge. Rookie mistake. Second, always be stirring. The second the liquid stops moving, the powder starts congealing. And once that happens, you might as well just spackle a wall with it rather than drink it. Third, take long constant sips so you never actually have it in your mouth. The minute the liquid stops, you will taste it. That is the last thing you want. Oh, and fourth, drink it topless, because with all of this going on you are bound to dribble it on your shirt.

I just hope these herbs work better than the Slimfast did. I think they will though. After all, not even Slimfast tasted like dirt...

Fighting Kind

Well, nothing new over here.

I spent the last week thinking really hard about taking my supplements but never quite got my act together. I also sent a few desperate texts to Erin about my carb-centric diet and an urgent need to lose weight. And, of course, I’m still not pregnant.

But that sounds so negative! And I really don’t want to be negative – it’s against my nature. I don’t want to get caught in the fertility-focused trap of only seeing what isn’t in my life.

The truth is I have a pretty great life, not perfect, but great and full and fun with an abundance of lovely people. While I can’t make myself pregnant, I can make the most of my current situation.

I’ve long held the belief that real change comes from a place of kindness. And kindness is pretty much the opposite of “I must, I should, I have to.”

To an outsider the idea of struggling to take vitamins must seem so lame. Even the voice inside my head says, how hard can it be? But that is not the voice of a friend. When a friend is struggling, we don’t sit back and point out all their flaws and shortcomings and screw ups. We take them where they are and offer comfort and encouragement. We help them find a new path.

This quote has been circulating all over the Internet this week:

"Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."
~Alice Walker

All of us here are fighting a battle and creating a new path. Let’s not forget to be kinder than necessary to ourselves.

The end of bliss

The end of my month of bliss is rapidly approaching -- I'm on Day 27 as I write this on Tuesday. I admit I checked my Period Tracker app to find that out, but checking an app is a lot less involved than charting temperatures and peeing on a stick every morning.

I gotta say that I sure felt a lot less stressed out about the baby-making thing this month, even with the announcement of my sister's pregnancy. It was really nice not to even think about it. And really throwing myself into the bliss, I even pushed diet and exercise aside and instead have been drinking loads of coffee and wine and eating giant chunks of white, processed carbs at every meal. So needless to say, weight loss didn't happen this month -- quite the opposite, I'm sure, if my tight pants are any indication.

If all of the Just Relax-ers were right, all of this relaxing and not thinking about it should have resulted in a big ol' embryo in my uterus, right? I almost want to not be pregnant just so I can flip the Just Relax-ers the bird. Reality tells me there's no way I'm pregnant. I'm experiencing my customary pre-period cramping and acne flareup. Nothing smells weird. My boobs don't hurt. It's business as usual over here.

So because of that, even though my month of bliss really was blissful, I am kind of looking forward to getting back to consulting The Machine about ovulation and popping the thermometer in my mouth first thing every morning in order to chart my temperature. But with a new attitude.

The month of bliss was educational. It helped me realize I don't want to live life constantly looking at the calendar and worrying about cervical mucus and Is this the month?? I'm going to try not to do that during the next cycle, even though I know that charting temps and peeing on sticks inherently causes that kind of behavior. I need to not obsess. It becomes all-consuming and ruins everything.

Part of me still thinks that if I just keep charting and peeing, I'll end up pregnant. I hear all the time Oh, it took So-And-So's cousin a long time to conceive too, and I wonder, Was she charting and peeing on sticks, too?

Another part of me is pretty sure I need a doctor to run a few tests to figure out what's going on. Once I have my new insurance card in-hand this month, my husband and I will be making separate appointments to have our equipment checked. I have a feeling that then, we'll know what we're really dealing with.

Same Old, Same Old

In the past eight weeks I have had three and a half periods.

For those of you without access to a uterus, that is a lot.

In March I had periods exactly two weeks apart. Then, I had 24 blissful days of non-period, and then what can only be described as a "whopper." I would say more, but you really don't want me to. Last week I had spotting EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. It was nothing to write home about (if anyone actually writes those kids of letters), but just there.

I figured that my body was maybe resetting itself. After all, I've changed my diet, thought about exercising more, am taking more pills than Charlie Sheen, and paying a woman to stick needles into my face. Wouldn't all that be enough to make my cycle go a little screwy? I figured it would soon right itself and help me on my way to reproductive bliss.

How wrong I was.

Today I went to see my gynecologist, just to check in since I am making all these changes, and to talk about the weird periods. She decided to do a quick pelvic (again, not saying more), and discovered that my lady bits weren't making changes, but instead were making an ovarian cyst.

Yep, an ovarian cyst, just like all the previous ovarian cysts that led me to buying this book and making all these changes in the first place.

So, what do I do now?

I don't know.

I just don't know.

Part of me says try harder. Part of me says this is over.

Most of me wishes this was just wasn't so complicated.

Oh, and that I would stop having so many damn periods.

Tick-Tock

My birthday is next month. I’ve never been one to have a life plan or to hear the tick-tock of my biological clock. But I’m writing about fertility on a weekly basis. So, I’m thinking about it more than ever before.

This is probably a good thing since I would otherwise actively not be thinking about it in hopes that this whole not-getting-pregnant thing would just go away. Ignoring problems always solves them. Right?

Anyway, I’m thinking about what I want to accomplish in this next month. The last two weeks have been rather fertility unfriendly. For sure I knew I was off track when certain bodily fluids returned to less shocking colors. Too few supplements. Too much caffeine. Way too much sugar. (I think crack-cocaine is the secret ingredient in those mini-Cadbury milk chocolate Easter eggs with the candy shell. It just doesn’t make sense that they are so much better than M&Ms even though they are essentially the same damn thing.)  

So I’m back to getting myself on track. I’m going to print up some of my incentive charts and start again. Tonight, I even went for a swim in an effort to add exercise. (Is there anything more humiliating than putting on a bathing suit?) And I’ve decided that before my next birthday, I’m going to at least call the doctor’s office and make an appointment. I think my last annual exam was in September 2009, so it’s time.

What's important

What I never want to happen is for anyone to tell me they are pregnant with a heavy heart. No one should feel guilty or anything but elated for themselves and the child growing in their womb when they find out they have conceived.

My honest feelings about friends who get pregnant are a jumble of jealousy, happiness, sadness, disappointment in my internal reaction, and worry for my friends. I make every effort to express only positive, congratulatory emotions in regards to new pregnancies. I don't construct strange rules in my mind, restricting friends from announcing their pregnancies or births on facebook or not calling me with their happy news -- the world doesn't revolve around me and my inability thus far to get pregnant.

So does that change when my sister tells me she is pregnant?

No.  

Is it harder or easier to hear news like that?

It's harder.

Would I ever wish anything but ultimate happiness for my sister, her husband, and their future baby?

Never, not in a million years, ever, ever. My sister had a miscarriage the night before my wedding five years ago, and still managed to be my matron of honor. Shortly after that, she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. This will be a high-risk pregnancy. So in the infertility world, she has done her time; paid her dues. She deserves this.

But I still couldn't write last week. I found out Monday, and on Tuesday, when I would normally draft my post for this blog, I couldn't do it. I wasn't thrashing and crying and moaning and wondering Why or When or How; I was just numb. I don't even understand my own reaction, so I had to turn away from the numbness and focus on something else.

I will be an aunt, and my husband an uncle. My parents are elated -- this is their first grandchild. Yes, as the oldest daughter, I'd have loved to give them their first grandchild, but I can't expect everyone to wait and wait and wait as month after month the pregnancy tests are negative.

And as I am in the middle of my month of bliss -- my month off of peeing on ovulation sticks and taking my temperature and charting every damn thing that comes out of my vagina -- I am finding that I am enjoying life more. Shocking, I know. Remove an obsession and life gets put into perspective again. I almost feel like Kids: Who needs em? If they happen, awesome. If not, guess who has two thumbs and is taking a trip around the world?

That might be an exaggeration.

My new insurance kicks in mid-month, and then I'll be returning to an OB I really like, to have a long talk and figure out what exactly is going on here.

The Needling Question

Every time I tell someone that I am having acupuncture, they ask the same question. I probably don't even need to tell you what it is...

Oh c'mon, you know what it is. Say it with me: "does it hurt?"

The answer? Kind of.

I mean, if someone is sticking you with a needle, you're going to feel something. You're actually SUPPOSED to feel something, that's how the acupuncturist knows she's hit the right spot. It isn't really a pain though, it's more like a jolt. Not pleasant, but not horrible. And once you've felt it, and it's clear the needle is in the right place, it goes away and you don't really feel anything -- at least nothing painful. Instead you just start feeling incredibly relaxed, and very heavy in your body. I always feel it in my hands first, like they are filled with sand and sinking into the table. Then the rest of my body falls with them, and I drift off to sleep. I know from the clock that I am only asleep for a short time, but it feels much longer. Oh, and if the needles are electrified? Then the sleep is even deeper.

Yeah, that's right, sometimes she runs a current through the needles. Specifically, she does it when I am supposed to be ovulating. I think it's a way to threaten my follicles into behaving. You know, a "keep being difficult and I'll turn up the juice" kind of message. Really though, I don't think they would be that threatened. It's more buzzy than shocky -- kind of like a "personal massager." And I wasn't kidding when I said it makes me fall into a deeper. She hits the switch and I am gone. No dreams. No twitching. Almost like I'm under anesthetic.

The fact that I fall asleep, and that I feel such deep relaxation during and after acupuncture gives me hope that the "Making Babies" program might work. When I started on the supplements I didn't really notice a big difference -- except heartburn. When I changed my diet I didn't really notice a big difference -- except missing wine. When I tried, and failed, to do the visualization (a topic for another time) -- I almost chucked the book out the window. The acupuncture though, it makes me think the authors of Making Babies might just know what they are talking about.

Or maybe I'm just a masochist and never knew it...

Either way, I love those needles.