I haven't posted in a while. I lost my fertility blogging mojo, I guess.
I still have a lot to tell about how I got here. But I'm feeling at the moment like talking about now.
Now is when I am almost ready to give up and call it good. My baby, my three year old baby, just potty trained himself. So I've finally gotten to reclaim the surface of my bedroom dresser (which was a changing table for the last 4 1/2 years) and the surface of my son's dresser (which was also a changing table) and my purse, which always had to have a diaper and some wipes shoved in, and the top drawer of my dresser, which had extra diapers and swim diapers, and, and, and....
I feel like I might have the rest of my life in view again. The light at the end of the baby-rearing tunnel is in sight. And it's made me kind of excited. About being able to be ME again. Not a nursing, exhausted, diaper-changing, baby-barf smelling shadow of myself.
Don't get me wrong. I have loved bearing and rearing children. I have loved my babies. But I am soooo tired of trying to get pregnant and being disappointed that I am ready to give up right about now.
Almost.
March 16, 2010
February 8, 2010
Clomid Continued
My first month of Clomid ended in a BFN, so my doctor upped my dosage to 100 mgs. This definitely kicked things into gear, if the 5-6 days of serious pain leading up to my ovulations were any indication. I had to be careful not even to lean against anything or let anything touch my belly during those days. Ouch! And my emotionality didn't improve at all. At least it didn't make me angry or agressive as I'd heard had happened with some women.
But the Clomid did seem to be making some improvement. My progesterone level went up to a 2.3 the first month at 50 mgs, then a 3.5 after the first month of 100mgs. It continued to rise a few points every month, indicating that my ovulations were getting stronger, but still I wasn't getting pregnant.
Finally, after the 5th month of Clomid with no pregnancy, I decided to take a break from the meds. I just wasn't feeling like myself and the pain was pretty bad. But my ovulations had at least improved. I was finally up to a 10.2!
But the Clomid did seem to be making some improvement. My progesterone level went up to a 2.3 the first month at 50 mgs, then a 3.5 after the first month of 100mgs. It continued to rise a few points every month, indicating that my ovulations were getting stronger, but still I wasn't getting pregnant.
Finally, after the 5th month of Clomid with no pregnancy, I decided to take a break from the meds. I just wasn't feeling like myself and the pain was pretty bad. But my ovulations had at least improved. I was finally up to a 10.2!
February 7, 2010
Clomid
Clomid is the universal, catch-all drug prescribed to most women with infertility. It may or may not relate at all to what is going on with her body, or what cannot be diagnosed, but if she can't get pregnant and it's been at least 12 months, her doctor will probably prescribe her Clomid.
Technically, Clomid is really only to be used to induce ovulation in women who don't ovulate at all. But it is also given to women who have poor quality ovulations or whose ovulations are uncertain. This was the case with me. I have always had regular periods, and I have always been able to tell when I ovulated. I would have a twinge of pain, maybe for 5-10 minutes, right in the ovary that was ovulating that month.
But after a series of blood tests, carefully timed to check the hormone levels in my body at ovulation, the doctor said it wasn't clear whether my ovulations were of good quality. My progesterone level was only 1.5. It should be 10 to indicate that ovulation has occured, and, though this idea is controversial among fertility specialists, a level of 10 progesterone must be achieved in order to sustain a pregnancy.
I had only been TTC for six months at this point. And doctors, as a rule, don't consider you infertile until you have TTC'ed for a whole year. But I was already 30 years old, and I had carefully tracked my cycles for six months, and we'd tested everything else, and I was VERY persistant. So my doctor prescribed me Clomid.
The first month I took 50 mgs. It made me kind of loopy. By that I mean that I was hyper emotional. I would cry at the slightest thing. Not things that were real, things that should make me cry. But random things, like Hallmark commercials or long distance commercials. Or when teaching my history students about the Emancipation Proclamation. It was kind of embarrassing.
Another side effect was that my ovulations became much more painful. Instead of a few minutes of pain, I began to have several days of pain and swelling and tenderness leading up to ovulation. It was uncomfortable. But at least it made it much more clear when "all systems were go."
Technically, Clomid is really only to be used to induce ovulation in women who don't ovulate at all. But it is also given to women who have poor quality ovulations or whose ovulations are uncertain. This was the case with me. I have always had regular periods, and I have always been able to tell when I ovulated. I would have a twinge of pain, maybe for 5-10 minutes, right in the ovary that was ovulating that month.
But after a series of blood tests, carefully timed to check the hormone levels in my body at ovulation, the doctor said it wasn't clear whether my ovulations were of good quality. My progesterone level was only 1.5. It should be 10 to indicate that ovulation has occured, and, though this idea is controversial among fertility specialists, a level of 10 progesterone must be achieved in order to sustain a pregnancy.
I had only been TTC for six months at this point. And doctors, as a rule, don't consider you infertile until you have TTC'ed for a whole year. But I was already 30 years old, and I had carefully tracked my cycles for six months, and we'd tested everything else, and I was VERY persistant. So my doctor prescribed me Clomid.
The first month I took 50 mgs. It made me kind of loopy. By that I mean that I was hyper emotional. I would cry at the slightest thing. Not things that were real, things that should make me cry. But random things, like Hallmark commercials or long distance commercials. Or when teaching my history students about the Emancipation Proclamation. It was kind of embarrassing.
Another side effect was that my ovulations became much more painful. Instead of a few minutes of pain, I began to have several days of pain and swelling and tenderness leading up to ovulation. It was uncomfortable. But at least it made it much more clear when "all systems were go."
February 6, 2010
The Waiting Game
Waiting is the one universal thing that all TTC women have in common. Everyone's story is different: PCOS, IVF, male infertility, deviated uterus, endometriosis, blocked tubes....there are all kinds of diagnoses (and lack thereof), but the one thing we all share is having to wait, WAIT, WAIT, WAAAAAAIIIIIIIITTTTT. First you wait for your period to end. Then you wait for signs of ovulation, then you wait for your OPKs to indicate it's time to BD, then you BD like crazy, and then comes the most awful wait of all....the dreaded two week wait (2WW) before you can find out if you're pregnant. It is the longest 14 days of any human's life. But who am I kidding? No one who is TTC waits the full 2 weeks. Most start testing 7 days past ovulation (DPO) if there is even the slightest indication that she may be pregnant (or not). Sore boobs? I better test! Strange CM? I better test! Spotting? I for SURE better test. Then when the HPT comes back negative, she tests again 9DPO. And then again at 11DPO. And again until she either runs out of tests or money for more tests or until AF proves without a shadow of a doubt that she is NOT pregnant.
It's maddening. Every twinge of the body is scrutinized for the possibility that it may mean something significant is going on. Most of the time it means nothing. And when AF shows up, you cry, get depressed, get discouraged, get determined again, and start the whole process over.
Again.
And Again.
And Again.
There is more crying, more frustration, more confusion, more depression, but ultimately you have no choice but to either give up and decide you are not going to bear children, or to do it yet again.
And you want a baby. You want a baby DESPERATELY by now. So you are willing to do it again and again and again. And then again.
It's maddening. Every twinge of the body is scrutinized for the possibility that it may mean something significant is going on. Most of the time it means nothing. And when AF shows up, you cry, get depressed, get discouraged, get determined again, and start the whole process over.
Again.
And Again.
And Again.
There is more crying, more frustration, more confusion, more depression, but ultimately you have no choice but to either give up and decide you are not going to bear children, or to do it yet again.
And you want a baby. You want a baby DESPERATELY by now. So you are willing to do it again and again and again. And then again.
January 12, 2010
TCOYF
I'm not sure who recommended it to me or how I found it--probably it was someone on FF (Fertility Friend)--but early in my TTC journey, I bought the Bible of fertility: Taking Charge of Your Fertility (TCOYF). This book laid out everything clearly, concisely, and with pictures. Even the grossest stuff had clear drawings and actual photographs to help a woman figure things out. Through this book I learned:
To chart my BBT
To notice signs in my body that indicated ovulation was imminent
To examine my cervical mucus (CM)
To test my cervical texture
To evaluate my cervical opening
(all of which tell you where in your cycle you are)
Other methods of determining the highest phase of fertility
What positions are more likely to help egg and sperm unite
What your hormones should be doing at various times of the month
What problems you might have and what the symptoms are
What procedures are available to treat said problems, both medical and natural
And several hundred other important and useful bits of information relating to how a woman's reproductive cycle should work, can go wrong, and may be fixed.
If you are reading this and you don't have TCOYF, get it. GET IT NOW! And read the whole thing. You'll know more about your cycle after you read this book than your doctor. And make your man read it with you. It's good for him to know what is going on with you and to be able to support you in the things you'll need to do to get pregnant. 'Cause there are going to be some weird ones. And some inconvenient ones. And yes, sadly, some very unromantic ones. But you've got your whole life to be a sex kitten. Right now you're a baby making machine, and he needs to be the engineer.
To chart my BBT
To notice signs in my body that indicated ovulation was imminent
To examine my cervical mucus (CM)
To test my cervical texture
To evaluate my cervical opening
(all of which tell you where in your cycle you are)
Other methods of determining the highest phase of fertility
What positions are more likely to help egg and sperm unite
What your hormones should be doing at various times of the month
What problems you might have and what the symptoms are
What procedures are available to treat said problems, both medical and natural
And several hundred other important and useful bits of information relating to how a woman's reproductive cycle should work, can go wrong, and may be fixed.
If you are reading this and you don't have TCOYF, get it. GET IT NOW! And read the whole thing. You'll know more about your cycle after you read this book than your doctor. And make your man read it with you. It's good for him to know what is going on with you and to be able to support you in the things you'll need to do to get pregnant. 'Cause there are going to be some weird ones. And some inconvenient ones. And yes, sadly, some very unromantic ones. But you've got your whole life to be a sex kitten. Right now you're a baby making machine, and he needs to be the engineer.
Support
Round about the time my doctor sort of wrote me off, I joined Fertility Friend, a website designed to help women trying to concieve. It offered free charting (measuring your basal body temperature every day to determine if/when you ovulate) as well as tons of information on fertility, and it had message boards and buddy groups you could join to get feedback, answers, and support from other women going through the same thing as you.
If you haven't gone through fertility or know someone closely who has, you won't know that NO ONE knows (and most don't care) how hard it is to want a baby and not be able to have one except someone who has been there. As soon as you get married, people start asking you, "So, when are you two going to start a family?" A seemingly innocent question, but after months and months of negative pregnancy tests (BFNs), it's a question that stings. And some people think they're being funny when they say more pointedly, "So what's the deal? Where are the babies?" And then there are the people who think they are offering you great advice when they say, "Stop worrying about it so much and it will happen," or "You guys just need to practice more, hahaha." But those comments just make you feel more inadequate and more stressed. But probably the worst is the glazed look in your friends' and family memebers' eyes when you start talking about fertility stuff again, like they just can't bear to hear it anymore. Sigh...
So when you find a site like Fertility Friend, where you can complain and cry and vent and people not only listen but actually understand, it is a GOD SEND.
If you haven't gone through fertility or know someone closely who has, you won't know that NO ONE knows (and most don't care) how hard it is to want a baby and not be able to have one except someone who has been there. As soon as you get married, people start asking you, "So, when are you two going to start a family?" A seemingly innocent question, but after months and months of negative pregnancy tests (BFNs), it's a question that stings. And some people think they're being funny when they say more pointedly, "So what's the deal? Where are the babies?" And then there are the people who think they are offering you great advice when they say, "Stop worrying about it so much and it will happen," or "You guys just need to practice more, hahaha." But those comments just make you feel more inadequate and more stressed. But probably the worst is the glazed look in your friends' and family memebers' eyes when you start talking about fertility stuff again, like they just can't bear to hear it anymore. Sigh...
So when you find a site like Fertility Friend, where you can complain and cry and vent and people not only listen but actually understand, it is a GOD SEND.
January 5, 2010
Step Three: Educating Yourself
My first OBGYN was labeled a "fertility specialist." He was a nice man, not overly young or terribly old. He had a decent bedside manner. He wasn't insulting to me, acting as if I were just a stupid patient. He seemed to understand that I really wanted to get pregnant and wanted to help. To a certain extent.
He did run the usual, "Well, we like you to wait a year before we really get worried; it can take a normal, healthy couple a full year to get pregnant" bit past me. But I wasn't having that. I was already 30, for Pete's sake. My primary child-bearing years were long gone, and I was facing the iffy ones, with the "good luck with that" ones only 5 years away.
So at my insistence, he agreed to start diagnostics after only six months of TTC. First were several rounds of blood tests. They wanted to check all my hormone levels. And they wanted to be sure that I was actually ovulating, though I've always had regular cycles and been able to feel a twang of pain when I ovulated. Blood tests are no fun. The needles are no fun, especially when you have tiny, deep, squirrelly veins like I do. But I got so many tests done that within a few months, I was over my fear of them. And I even figured out where my one or two good gushers were.
Next came Big Daddy's turn. His was the "leave a deposit in this cup" type of test. We both had visions of "Forget Paris" as he drove the cup over to the doctor's office with it tucked in his coat pocket.
Then came the HSG. This procedure, where they check to see if a woman's tubes are open is the ultimate in the joke, "this may feel a little uncomfortable." First they have you lay spread eagle on an xray table, which is always very relaxation inducing. Next they insert a balloon into your cervix and blow it up to make the hole bigger. Imagine sticking a carrot up your nose and you'll get roughly the same feeling of comfort. Then they shoot contrast dye through your uterus and up your tubes and see if it comes out the other end of the tubes.
After the HSG came back completely normal, both tubes open, and Big Daddy's test came back with flying colors, and my hormone levels all looked good aside from low progesterone, they didn't really know what else to test. It did appear that I was ovulating, though it couldn't be determined if the ovulations were good quality because of the low progesterone. So the next thing my OBGYN did was what every OBGYN does if they can't explain why you're not getting pregnant--they put you on Clomid, a fertility drug.
And it was about this time that I realized that fertility science is still in the dark ages. No one knows anything. If you don't happen to come up with one of the big two or three female issues liked blocked tubes, endometriosis, or PCOS, and your man doesn't come back with serious sperm issues, they just kind of shrug their shoulders, prescribe you some drugs, and send you on your way telling you to "relax more" and to "be more patient."
Thanks, doc. Thanks a lot. So I decided to start being my own doctor, my own fertility specialist. If no one was really interested or able to help me figure things out, I guess I was going to have to do it on my own.
He did run the usual, "Well, we like you to wait a year before we really get worried; it can take a normal, healthy couple a full year to get pregnant" bit past me. But I wasn't having that. I was already 30, for Pete's sake. My primary child-bearing years were long gone, and I was facing the iffy ones, with the "good luck with that" ones only 5 years away.
So at my insistence, he agreed to start diagnostics after only six months of TTC. First were several rounds of blood tests. They wanted to check all my hormone levels. And they wanted to be sure that I was actually ovulating, though I've always had regular cycles and been able to feel a twang of pain when I ovulated. Blood tests are no fun. The needles are no fun, especially when you have tiny, deep, squirrelly veins like I do. But I got so many tests done that within a few months, I was over my fear of them. And I even figured out where my one or two good gushers were.
Next came Big Daddy's turn. His was the "leave a deposit in this cup" type of test. We both had visions of "Forget Paris" as he drove the cup over to the doctor's office with it tucked in his coat pocket.
Then came the HSG. This procedure, where they check to see if a woman's tubes are open is the ultimate in the joke, "this may feel a little uncomfortable." First they have you lay spread eagle on an xray table, which is always very relaxation inducing. Next they insert a balloon into your cervix and blow it up to make the hole bigger. Imagine sticking a carrot up your nose and you'll get roughly the same feeling of comfort. Then they shoot contrast dye through your uterus and up your tubes and see if it comes out the other end of the tubes.
After the HSG came back completely normal, both tubes open, and Big Daddy's test came back with flying colors, and my hormone levels all looked good aside from low progesterone, they didn't really know what else to test. It did appear that I was ovulating, though it couldn't be determined if the ovulations were good quality because of the low progesterone. So the next thing my OBGYN did was what every OBGYN does if they can't explain why you're not getting pregnant--they put you on Clomid, a fertility drug.
And it was about this time that I realized that fertility science is still in the dark ages. No one knows anything. If you don't happen to come up with one of the big two or three female issues liked blocked tubes, endometriosis, or PCOS, and your man doesn't come back with serious sperm issues, they just kind of shrug their shoulders, prescribe you some drugs, and send you on your way telling you to "relax more" and to "be more patient."
Thanks, doc. Thanks a lot. So I decided to start being my own doctor, my own fertility specialist. If no one was really interested or able to help me figure things out, I guess I was going to have to do it on my own.
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