Thankful Thursdays

Since we have wordless Wednesdays I think I’ll start thankful Thursdays.  A blog day dedicated to the people in our TTC journeys that deserve some thanks but never get any.

I dedicate today to the rare Walgreens, Walmart, and Dollar Tree clerks that silently scan our pee sticks and send us on our merry ways. 

Thank you for not asking us if we want the result to be positive or negative.

Thank you for not telling us that it only takes one pee stick to get an answer (even though you think we’re crazy for buying 10 sticks.)

Thank you for not reminding us that most of your POAS clientele are teenagers who can only afford one.

Thank you for not incorrectly explaining the difference between an OPK and a HPT, trust me, we could teach classes on this, we don't need your explaination.

Thank you for not talking to us at all, for just looking at the cash register and not making eye contact at all, because honestly when we’re buying our 10 millionth thru 10 million and 20th pee sticks we’re not in the mood for chatting or questionable looks.

"Baby Wanted" Weight

In my last post I mentioned how curves make us more feminine and evolutionarily more “child bearing” worthy.  I think I took this to heart the last few months.  In 4 months of Clomid I gained somewhere between 10 and 15 lbs.  I know this isn’t as many pounds as some inferts, but it only took me 4 months (on a gluten free, dairy free diet by the way!)  If I keep on this track I’m headed toward health problems not a healthy baby…

So I guess I’ll start with why I gained all that weight, or why I think.  I’ll attribute part of it to Clomid being the devil.  Seriously Clomid sucks; hot flashes, mood swings and weight gain are the top side effects, I managed all three. 

Another part of it is that since I’m on a very restrictive diet I can eat very few things, in my mind that means used to mean I could eat how ever much I wanted of the few available choices.  It turns out that isn’t really true if you want to fit into your jeans! 

The last and most ridiculous reason; I didn’t want to shake out the baby.  For a while I had to avoid running because of the huge cysts on my ovaries, but I don’t have that excuse anymore.  I’ve been avoiding high impact work outs because I’m scared I’ll shake the little bean out of there.  I’ve never even had a positive pregnancy test and I’m avoiding high impact workouts to save my non-existent pregnancy, I don’t even want to think about how stupid that sounds out loud… 

So here is my plan.  Get to a healthy BMI of 24 (the experts say this is the “ideal” baby making BMI.)  I have 14 pounds left to lose (I lost 2 last week.)  I got a great new app on my iphone called Lose it, its pretty much a calorie counting program.  I’m also back to high impact workouts, Crossfit three times per week.

As an added motivator Blue and my Europe trip is the month before IVF.  It’s worth it to have a bikini body since post IVF (hopefully twins) I don’t expect to ever be able to wear a bikini again.

So raise your glass water to my last hurrah with a beach bod, and to the optimistic hope that I’ll only get to enjoy it for about two months!

Men have muscles and women have boobs

This fabulous post inspired me to blog about why I think infertility tears relationships apart.  Princess talks about how her husband made an admission in marriage counseling and how it affected her.  The admission was simple; I wish I could fix it.

I’m convinced that most women and men are born with instinctive anchors to their sense of self, especially relating to their sex.  Two of the important ones are the ability to be a mother (for women) and the ability to protect their family (men).

Now I’m not saying that all men and women want these things, but I think that if the person does want them and becomes aware that they can’t have them then they begin to feel robbed of their status as “woman” or “man.” 

The ability to protect their family is a huge part of a man’s pride.  They are born big and strong, they are built to be protectors.  I think this is why men have such a hard time seeing women cry, especially their wives.  I think they feel a need to fix it and protect them from the hurt and yet powerless to make it stop.  Infertility makes everyone involved powerless but I don’t think women take the powerless feeling as hard as men do.  Every time you cry it makes him feel like less of a man, and lets be honest after a few years of that you’re a pretty amazing couple if you’re still going strong!

The ability to bare children, or at least mother is a huge part of a woman’s basic make up.  Even the parts of us that make us outwardly female all stem from our future as mothers, breasts, curves and hips.  Women’s bodies were designed for one thing: to procreate.  If we’re not able to do that what are we good for? Infertility takes our basic sense of being a woman away from us and makes us question our worth.  Even if we have never placed our worth in our bodies before, infertility can turn the whole world upside down and make a confident successful woman feel lower than dirt.

This then turns into a cycle.  

The woman feels sad and debased so she cries.

The husband can’t fix it so he retreats emotionally.

The wife sees the husband retreat and feels like it's because he is disappointed that she can’t make him a father so she cries some more.

And the cycle continues.

I think I’ve identified the cycle and some of the problems, but I have no idea how to fix them.  How can we stop putting all of our worth in our baby making capabilities?  How can we make our husbands realize sometimes protecting us just means we need them to hold and tell us they love us?

I think I need to quit Facebook...

I'm so worked up right now!  I just got a notice on my Facebook news feed that I guy I am friends with liked a picture of 3 fanned out peesticks.  Of course, I'm a masochist and so I clicked on it.

The chick's status up dates for a few days were about how she needed people to pray for her but she couldn't say why (what that she'd loose the baby?), and then a picture of her pee sticks, and then a few different updates about how her DH had a vasectomy and must just have super sperm and maybe they could request a refund?

I want to punch her in the face.  First off gross for posting a pic of your pee sticks on Facebook, yes, I do it on this blog but only because everyone who reads it pees on them as much as I do.  Also the pee sticks weren't even digitals so you had to know what you were looking at to get what a pink plus sign meant.

Second off I want to punch her in the face and take her baby because no child deserves to grow up knowing that they were a mistake.  Guess what dumb girl, the minute you announced the vasectomy to FB and got 59 comments back the secret "accident" status of your future child was let out of the bag!

Thirdly I wish she realized how many women out there are scared to announce their pregnancies before 12 weeks because of multiple miscarriages.  I can tell by the lightness of her test line that she is super early and I think it is so unfair that she doesn't have to have any fears about announcing this early but so many of the wonderful friends I've met through my IF journeys do.

Fourthly I want to punch FB in the face for showing me that some dude I barely know likes someone else's pregnancy photo.  Also I think its time I deactivate my account.

My birth control failed me

My birth control failed me.

No, no, not the high school oh shit the condom broke scare… I wish!

BC was supposed to be my knight in shining armor.  It has failed to live up to my expectations.

For the last two years that I’ve been off of BC I’ve nostalgically thought back to the good old days.  The days where I had complete control of my periods.  The days when my AF cramps hurt but were bearable.  The days where I would spend weeks worried sick if I’d missed one little BC pill. The days before I was an infertile.  

BC is one of the things that helped me get through the disappointment of having to take a TTC break while Blue is deployed.  I got excited every time I thought of how glorious life was going to be once I was back together with my old friend.

Problem is, my old friend is being a real prick.

I first went back on BC just after Blue left.  Dr. BFP prescribed Desogen.  My period started, I started the pills, my period never stopped.  I bled for 3 weeks. 

I shrugged it off as Desogen just being a cheap stand in for my old friend so I called my old OB/GYN and asked her my friend’s name.  She said to get a new prescription for Apree, so I did.  Problem is, Apree is the generic name for Desogen.  The pharmacy wouldn’t fill my prescription because I already had 3 months worth of it.  This all happened on a Friday afternoon and I had already stopped taking the imposter.  All of the doc’s offices were closed so I gave up for the weekend.

Then I found a pack of Nuva Ring from the pre TTC days (for the record it was new, unused and not expired!)  I spent the year before we started TTC on Nuva Ring and thought not as great as my old friend it was at least a first cousin.  So I started the Nuva ring 14 days ago.  Shortly after starting it I finally stopped spotting, problem solved!  NOT!

CD12 I started spotting again, continued on 13 and now 14.  My boobs are sore, I’m bloated.

Now I’m searching the memory banks to see if my old friend ever even existed? 

Here are the things I’m sure of: I never spotted for 10 whole years on BC.  My boobs were never sore on BC.  I called my doc and she said it doesn’t really make sense but we’ll try one more kind just in case.  So I’m supposed to stop the Nuva Ring today.   Have ANOTHER AF and then start some other BC that starts with an L on Tuesday. 

Just to sum things up, instead of one AF while Blue is gone I’ve already had two official AFs about to have a third and all of the rest of the time was spotting except one short, glorious 6 days.

WTF?  Why doesn’t my old friend like me anymore? 

Babies vs. Blue

I saw a movie this weekend that made me think about what is important in life and what I’d be willing to give up to have those things.  It made me realize how important Blue is to me and that I wouldn’t trade him for a hundred babies.

The movie was called The Adjustment Bureau.  I highly recommend it.  I’ll try not to give away much beyond what the previews do, basically the movie questions the idea of fate.  Matt Damon meets the girl of his dreams and has to choose if he’s willing to give up everything to be with her, and if he’s willing to let her give up everything to be with him.

This movie made me question everything I’ve thought for the last two years regarding infertility.  The glaring question to me after leaving the movie was which would you choose if you had the opportunity?  Being dirt poor and madly in love or being rich with all your other dreams fulfilled and loveless?

The answer for me is easy, I choose Blue.

I’ve thought many times during this infertility journey how lucky we are to be able to afford IVF or adoption but that given the chance I’d be dirt poor and fertile any day.  For some reason I never turned this concept on the choice between Blue and babies.

The answer for me is easy, I choose Blue.

I want to be a mother but more importantly I want to be the mother of Blue’s babies.  I don’t care where those babies come from as long as we’re raising them together.

If someone had asked me a week ago what I wanted most in the world the answer would have been easy.  I want to be a mother.  Until yesterday I didn’t realize that sometimes what you want most in the world is what you already have and don’t realize that you are taking for granted.  I have been too focused on the future and not focused enough on appreciating what I have. 

Now if someone asks me what I want the most in the world the answer will be different.  I want to live a full and happy life with my husband.  I sure hope that life includes children but I’d be willing to give up children if I had to choose between them and Blue.

So many spreadsheets, so little time

I feel bad for Blue.  I’m so much nicer, happier and easier to be around when I’m not saddled with worry over baby making.  Poor Blue never gets a reprieve because the only time we break from the madness is when he’s out of town.

I thought I would be more frustrated and resentful of this break than I am.  Instead it has really refreshed me!  If only I could be this stress free while TTC…

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still making spreadsheets and obsessing over things, they’re just more fun things and the stakes aren’t as high.  I currently have four master spreadsheets going: Euro-trip planning, Home decorating projects, workout/weight loss, and Arctic Man planning (a trip that happens every April, more on this another day).

I’m torn on the Europe trip planning.  Part of me really wants to over plan so I don’t miss anything and part of me wants to wing it and just slowly make our way around the Adriatic.  At some point I really need to decide.  At the very least I need to book a flight to and a hotel in Rome, and yet I can’t seem to commit.  Perhaps I have too many spreadsheets going at once?

My home decorating spreadsheet keeps growing.  I hope to finish up the decorating of my living room this weekend and then I’m moving on to the office/sewing room.  I’ll post some pictures when it is all complete!  I decided that I should decorate and organize the room where I do all my projects first so that I’ll enjoy being there more.  Then I want to re-decorate (or decorate since we just moved in) our room and bathroom.  All of these things are in various stages of planning, buying or making.  None of them are complete. 

I’m usually really good at finishing things but I can’t seem to focus lately, maybe because my heart is still in TTC?