After I wrote my last post, I came up with an idea of a project for George and me to do to remind us how not so utterly wretched our lives are. For the next 30 days we are each writing five things for which we are thankful that day. Four days in, I must say, it's harder than I would have thought. The first five were easy -- food, job, husband, home, health, etc. After that it has taken some thought. It has forced me to think about all the little things in life that give me pleasure. All those things I just brush them aside to focus on the more dramatic "horrible" things. One of mine from today is that I'm thankful for the gentleman who plays hymns on his guitar in the subway station. I love hearing them because they are always songs I know and I really think about the lyrics. It always give me a lift while I am rushing through the station. I wonder how many other people know the songs are hymns and not just a pretty tune and if someone else gets a little lift like I do.
Another thing that I'm thankful for which I haven't put on my list because I don't quite know how to do it, is that I am thankful I am not dying or really sick. My sister's roommate from her first year at college has cancer and doesn't have long to live. She is so very, very young and has twin four-year old girls. It's just so sad. It makes you think how when you think life is just horrible, it could be so much worse and be thankful, really thankful, for what you have.
5.25.2012
5.22.2012
Day #53: Counting One's Blessings
George and I had a long "discussion" last night. This stemmed largely from the fact that I was venting to him about yet more difficulties with the insurance, and, instead of supporting me and giving me the encouragement I needed at that moment, I could tell he was thinking, "Why doesn't she just quit. It would all be so much easier." He admitted as much when he told me he was thinking, "This is going to break us." I told him it very well might if he wasn't able to give me the support I needed.
I truly just don't know what to do. I believe that at some point we will get pregnant, but George just wants it to be easy peasy, and since it has been anything but, he would love nothing more than to just give up. He recognizes that I'm not there yet, so he keeps on trucking, but he has absolutely no hope. This just makes it all the harder for me because I need to have the hope for the both of us, and when I have limited supplies of hope to go around, I don't know that I can do that. How do we go on then? Do we just quit because George doesn't want to do the drudgery? Will that help or hurt our marriage? I have my doubts that it would make things better. On the other hand, how long can I be the only one who cares about this? It weighs me down like a steel cloak I carry around on me all day long. It makes me tired. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. No matter what I do, it won't go away. George says he has been as affected by all this as much as I have been. I have my doubts on that and told him so because he's not that one dealing with it minute to minute of every single day. I doubt it's all he thinks about all day long. I doubt it curls at the corners of every little thing he does. He doesn't want to hear it, though.
This whole messed up process has me questioning whether I married the right man after all. Is this the way it's supposed to be? Are you supposed to love a man who calls the life you have together a "major suckfest"? What happened to struggling with one's partner through thick and thin? Wasn't that part of our vows? Nowhere did it say that life would be easy. In fact, I think if one asked married couples everywhere, they would agree that life isn't ever easy, but it's the good times that make the hard times bearable. I think George missed that memo.
I admit the good times are in short supply these days. George is worried that his temporary work is coming to a rapid close. The medical bills are adding up because our wretched insurance just keeps screwing us over and over again. Add TTC on to that and the fact that I was supposed to be having our little baby right about now, and anyone would agree that all adds up to a suckfest. On the other hand, though, we've got each other and I know my husband loves me. We have food on the table and enough money in the bank to pay for what we need. I have a job which pays me enough to support us both, if need be, and pays for our insurance, sucky though it may be, it could be a lot worse. We have a warm, dry home. I have a wonderful sister who will give me the brutal truth, whether I've asked or not. I have three crazy nephews and a beautiful niece who make me happy whenever I see them. I have my health and am able to train for triathlons, run the streets of Newburyport in the early morning hours, bike the back roads to Newbury on my way to acupuncture, swim laps in the pool down the road. The weather over the weekend was beautiful and I was able to plant my vegetable garden. I have gorgeous flowers blooming away on the deck and an adorable little cat who definitely prefers George, but will snuggle with me in the wee hours of the morning after he gets up. I think it's those things, the little and the not so little, that help mitigate the suckfest. We just need to keep that in mind. We need to keep remembering to think of those things that give life a little joy. Maybe if we start feeling thankful for what we have, instead of dwelling on what we don't have, we can change our perspective just a bit.
I truly just don't know what to do. I believe that at some point we will get pregnant, but George just wants it to be easy peasy, and since it has been anything but, he would love nothing more than to just give up. He recognizes that I'm not there yet, so he keeps on trucking, but he has absolutely no hope. This just makes it all the harder for me because I need to have the hope for the both of us, and when I have limited supplies of hope to go around, I don't know that I can do that. How do we go on then? Do we just quit because George doesn't want to do the drudgery? Will that help or hurt our marriage? I have my doubts that it would make things better. On the other hand, how long can I be the only one who cares about this? It weighs me down like a steel cloak I carry around on me all day long. It makes me tired. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. No matter what I do, it won't go away. George says he has been as affected by all this as much as I have been. I have my doubts on that and told him so because he's not that one dealing with it minute to minute of every single day. I doubt it's all he thinks about all day long. I doubt it curls at the corners of every little thing he does. He doesn't want to hear it, though.
This whole messed up process has me questioning whether I married the right man after all. Is this the way it's supposed to be? Are you supposed to love a man who calls the life you have together a "major suckfest"? What happened to struggling with one's partner through thick and thin? Wasn't that part of our vows? Nowhere did it say that life would be easy. In fact, I think if one asked married couples everywhere, they would agree that life isn't ever easy, but it's the good times that make the hard times bearable. I think George missed that memo.
I admit the good times are in short supply these days. George is worried that his temporary work is coming to a rapid close. The medical bills are adding up because our wretched insurance just keeps screwing us over and over again. Add TTC on to that and the fact that I was supposed to be having our little baby right about now, and anyone would agree that all adds up to a suckfest. On the other hand, though, we've got each other and I know my husband loves me. We have food on the table and enough money in the bank to pay for what we need. I have a job which pays me enough to support us both, if need be, and pays for our insurance, sucky though it may be, it could be a lot worse. We have a warm, dry home. I have a wonderful sister who will give me the brutal truth, whether I've asked or not. I have three crazy nephews and a beautiful niece who make me happy whenever I see them. I have my health and am able to train for triathlons, run the streets of Newburyport in the early morning hours, bike the back roads to Newbury on my way to acupuncture, swim laps in the pool down the road. The weather over the weekend was beautiful and I was able to plant my vegetable garden. I have gorgeous flowers blooming away on the deck and an adorable little cat who definitely prefers George, but will snuggle with me in the wee hours of the morning after he gets up. I think it's those things, the little and the not so little, that help mitigate the suckfest. We just need to keep that in mind. We need to keep remembering to think of those things that give life a little joy. Maybe if we start feeling thankful for what we have, instead of dwelling on what we don't have, we can change our perspective just a bit.
5.18.2012
Day #49: Hello, Again
It has been quite a while since I wrote. I don't know why I took the break. Maybe I didn't feel like writing here was helping me all that much. At least not helping me to the extent I thought it might. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I've been feeling pretty good over the last several weeks -- that is until the Great Mother's Day Meltdown. Who knows? Maybe because of the GMDM, I am here once again, trying to work through all the crap that gets bottled up inside and ends up erupting while sitting in a packed church.
We tried Clomid last cycle. The side affects weren't all that bad, except for some crazy hot flashes and horrid headaches. I guess it's just a glimpse of what life will be like when I enter menopause. Despite the very, very strong ovulation pains which I took to mean that maybe I had extra robust eggs this month, I didn't get pregnant. So it is on to the next cycle and another month of Clomid. I feel like I am spinning my wheels on this one, but there's really not much else I can do. It's all just a waiting game. Also, given the nature of my insurance, even if I wanted to take a more invasive step, I can't because it's just too much money.
I also started acupuncture. I feel like I am grasping at straws here, but I figure this is my one chance, and I've got to give it an honest try. George isn't happy about the cost. Admittedly, it's not cheap, especially when one goes every week, but I keep wondering if maybe it will work. I had hardly any spotting this past cycle, which I don't know whether to attribute to the Clomid or the acupuncture, but it is something. Of course, the lack of spotting also made me think I might be pregnant and caused me to run out and buy a pregnancy test. Thankfully, I didn't use it because when I next went to the bathroom, I had proof that I wasn't pregnant. That's a few bucks saved at least. George and I finally agreed to doing it for one full cycle and then reassess the situation. I guess this means, I won't be doing any herbal treatment. I don't even want to start that discussion with him.
Also during my hiatus, I did a (very) mini triathlon. I finished; that was my goal, and I'm glad I met it. To finish it all off, I signed up for another one in about two months. I'm hoping that with my focus on something other than babymaking, I can somehow make a baby. I know I'm not going to be able to completely forget about my cycle, but I'm hoping it won't be so all-consuming. At times I think I should just quit all this nonsense and just go about life, and if I get pregnant, I get pregnant, and if I don't ... well, I'll just have to cross that bridge and come out on the other side. I know me, though, and there is no way I could just let it all go. Not check my CM, not count days, just be like I was just a year ago. In some small way, I think training for the triathlon will give me something else to obsess over. We shall see if that works out the way I want it to.
Sometimes I feel like I am all alone in this. I know I have George, I have my sister, and I have my friends who are all more than willing to be there for me, but I feel that deep down inside they really don't want to discuss this same crap over and over and over again. Rehash the same old stuff, get the same old result. I get sick of it all and I'm the one putting myself through this. Would I want to deal with this on a voluntary basis? Nothing would make me happier than to leave it all behind and never give it a second glance. Why don't I, then? It's this dream I have. I don't want to give up on it unless I have to. I'm hoping I know when enough is enough and the dream has died and I hope it is before the person that I once was, that my husband fell in love with, is gone.
I think that's it for catch up. I'm going to try and be more regular about all this because even though no one reads it, it does help me get all the stuff I keep inside out so I can deal with it and move on and hopefully avoid a GMDM part deux.
We tried Clomid last cycle. The side affects weren't all that bad, except for some crazy hot flashes and horrid headaches. I guess it's just a glimpse of what life will be like when I enter menopause. Despite the very, very strong ovulation pains which I took to mean that maybe I had extra robust eggs this month, I didn't get pregnant. So it is on to the next cycle and another month of Clomid. I feel like I am spinning my wheels on this one, but there's really not much else I can do. It's all just a waiting game. Also, given the nature of my insurance, even if I wanted to take a more invasive step, I can't because it's just too much money.
I also started acupuncture. I feel like I am grasping at straws here, but I figure this is my one chance, and I've got to give it an honest try. George isn't happy about the cost. Admittedly, it's not cheap, especially when one goes every week, but I keep wondering if maybe it will work. I had hardly any spotting this past cycle, which I don't know whether to attribute to the Clomid or the acupuncture, but it is something. Of course, the lack of spotting also made me think I might be pregnant and caused me to run out and buy a pregnancy test. Thankfully, I didn't use it because when I next went to the bathroom, I had proof that I wasn't pregnant. That's a few bucks saved at least. George and I finally agreed to doing it for one full cycle and then reassess the situation. I guess this means, I won't be doing any herbal treatment. I don't even want to start that discussion with him.
Also during my hiatus, I did a (very) mini triathlon. I finished; that was my goal, and I'm glad I met it. To finish it all off, I signed up for another one in about two months. I'm hoping that with my focus on something other than babymaking, I can somehow make a baby. I know I'm not going to be able to completely forget about my cycle, but I'm hoping it won't be so all-consuming. At times I think I should just quit all this nonsense and just go about life, and if I get pregnant, I get pregnant, and if I don't ... well, I'll just have to cross that bridge and come out on the other side. I know me, though, and there is no way I could just let it all go. Not check my CM, not count days, just be like I was just a year ago. In some small way, I think training for the triathlon will give me something else to obsess over. We shall see if that works out the way I want it to.
Sometimes I feel like I am all alone in this. I know I have George, I have my sister, and I have my friends who are all more than willing to be there for me, but I feel that deep down inside they really don't want to discuss this same crap over and over and over again. Rehash the same old stuff, get the same old result. I get sick of it all and I'm the one putting myself through this. Would I want to deal with this on a voluntary basis? Nothing would make me happier than to leave it all behind and never give it a second glance. Why don't I, then? It's this dream I have. I don't want to give up on it unless I have to. I'm hoping I know when enough is enough and the dream has died and I hope it is before the person that I once was, that my husband fell in love with, is gone.
I think that's it for catch up. I'm going to try and be more regular about all this because even though no one reads it, it does help me get all the stuff I keep inside out so I can deal with it and move on and hopefully avoid a GMDM part deux.
4.25.2012
Day #26: Happy (Belated) Birthday to Me!
My 39th birthday was almost one week ago. That means that I have exactly one year to get this baby-making project completed. On the one hand it sounds like forever ... twelve months of lackluster sex, twelve months of tension, twelve months of depression, the list could go on and on. On the other hand, though, it doesn't sound nearly long enough. I fear that twelve months won't be long enough for me to get the baby I want. I fear that instead of being resigned to and ready to embrace a life without children, I'll just feel empty and even more depressed than I was the twelve months prior. I wish I knew the answers.
I wasn't expecting much from my birthday. Well, I guess I should really say I wasn't expecting much happiness from my birthday. I was very pleasantly surprised. Unexpectedly, my husband got the day off, and we trekked up to New Hampshire to do a hike we had been wanting to complete for two years. It was bittersweet without our beloved dog, Iceman, blazing the trail, but overall, it was so much fun. It was wonderful to be outside on a gorgeous day and to not once dwell on the fact that I was that much older and that much less likely to get pregnant at all. It was such a relief.
Then the weekend came. George and I had a very long discussion on Sunday morning about this whole TTC mess. He admitted that he has lost any hope that we will ever have a child. He also admitted that he is only keeping on because I seem to want this so badly. What does one do with that? I'm sad that he had no hope, seeing as I feel that all we have going for us at this point is hope. I'm the first to be negative about this whole process, but at the beginning of any given cycle I'm always thinking that maybe this will be our time.
George is afraid that one year down the road we still won't be pregnant and our marriage will just be in tatters from all the stress it has endured. He's afraid that one year from now we won't recognize each other and will have become shells of our former selves. I'm afraid of that too. I already feel a bit like a hollow version of what I used to be. The past eight months has made me this way. How do I justify pressing on when I know he is not wholeheartedly in the game? I feel guilty for not being in a place where I feel I can just throw in the towel. I don't know if I will ever get there, but I know I'm not there yet. After all, I still have hope, and maybe that's what it comes down to.
I wasn't expecting much from my birthday. Well, I guess I should really say I wasn't expecting much happiness from my birthday. I was very pleasantly surprised. Unexpectedly, my husband got the day off, and we trekked up to New Hampshire to do a hike we had been wanting to complete for two years. It was bittersweet without our beloved dog, Iceman, blazing the trail, but overall, it was so much fun. It was wonderful to be outside on a gorgeous day and to not once dwell on the fact that I was that much older and that much less likely to get pregnant at all. It was such a relief.
Then the weekend came. George and I had a very long discussion on Sunday morning about this whole TTC mess. He admitted that he has lost any hope that we will ever have a child. He also admitted that he is only keeping on because I seem to want this so badly. What does one do with that? I'm sad that he had no hope, seeing as I feel that all we have going for us at this point is hope. I'm the first to be negative about this whole process, but at the beginning of any given cycle I'm always thinking that maybe this will be our time.
George is afraid that one year down the road we still won't be pregnant and our marriage will just be in tatters from all the stress it has endured. He's afraid that one year from now we won't recognize each other and will have become shells of our former selves. I'm afraid of that too. I already feel a bit like a hollow version of what I used to be. The past eight months has made me this way. How do I justify pressing on when I know he is not wholeheartedly in the game? I feel guilty for not being in a place where I feel I can just throw in the towel. I don't know if I will ever get there, but I know I'm not there yet. After all, I still have hope, and maybe that's what it comes down to.
4.16.2012
Day #17: To Test or Not To Test, That is the Question
I am not a tester. This partly has to do with the fact that I am cheap and pregnancy tests are not. It also has to do with the fact that I hate seeing those tests come up negative. When I was temping religiously, I pretty much knew if my period was on its way. The low temps combined with sometimes four or five days of spotting (something none of my doctors find at all odd ...) was all the writing on the wall I needed. So far, I have not been wrong.
I wish I could remember exactly how I felt the time I was pregnant for those few days. That would help me, especially now that I have not been temping. Over the weekend I started to really think (I mean really, really think) that I could be pregnant. The main things that were leading me to this conclusion were that my weird ovarian pain never subsided after ovulation, I started feeling periodic little pully twinges in my abdomen, I didn't have my usual run of multiple days of spotting, and, the really logical reason, it's my birthday on Thursday and finally getting pregnant would be the best gift ever. Especially if it ended up with me holding a little baby.
Late Friday night, I had some spotting just before bed. It was 7 DPO, so, basically, right on target for my period showing up five or six days hence. Then, oddly, I didn't have anymore spotting all weekend long, and I started to get hopeful. I didn't mention my great white hope to George because I have done that so many times before only to issue the bad news later on. So I kept my hopes, along with the fact that I'd had any spotting at all, to myself and day by day I started to get excited. This morning I had some more spotting, though. My hopes were pretty much dashed, and I told George the situation. On the way in to work, I consulted my past charts hoping they would show me that even though I had a couple days of spotting, it was different that all those other months, and I might just be pregnant after all. The charts didn't give me any hope.
All these things did not lead me to throwing in the towel on this cycle, though. As I sat at work I pondered the possibility that I just might be pregnant after all. I came up with the idea of going out to buy a pregnancy test at CVS (something I have never done before), just to make sure. After mulling it over for an hour, I decided that I had to; I felt like I was being led to do this which, in turn, meant that the results just might come out in my favor. So I went out and spent $20 on two fancy digital tests (I bought the ad line on the packaging that said I could get a positive result five days before my period is due hook, line, and sinker), went back to work and read the instructions so that I wouldn't make any mistakes in the execution. I walked down the hallway to the bathroom telling myself over and over again, "I expect it to be negative. Don't get depressed when that's the result." There I was in the bathroom (thankfully, it is not a multiple stall bathroom) looking at that stupid little hourglass and willing it to say what I wanted. Well, it didn't listen ... Not Pregnant ... that's what I saw. Despite the fact that it's easier to read, I think it's actually worse seeing the negative result in the digital form rather than just the lonely little pink line. You can't squint your eyes and try to make it say something it's not. You can't bring it to the window to get a better look. There's no question at all.
So I put the test back in the wrapper and threw it out in the bathroom trash. There went all my ideas of surprising George with it when I got home. There went the fun back and forth we would have when he would inevitably say, "Why did you test? You were pretty sure you weren't pregnant this morning." And I would respond, "I just had a hunch," like all good mothers do. There I went, back to work.
I wish I could remember exactly how I felt the time I was pregnant for those few days. That would help me, especially now that I have not been temping. Over the weekend I started to really think (I mean really, really think) that I could be pregnant. The main things that were leading me to this conclusion were that my weird ovarian pain never subsided after ovulation, I started feeling periodic little pully twinges in my abdomen, I didn't have my usual run of multiple days of spotting, and, the really logical reason, it's my birthday on Thursday and finally getting pregnant would be the best gift ever. Especially if it ended up with me holding a little baby.
Late Friday night, I had some spotting just before bed. It was 7 DPO, so, basically, right on target for my period showing up five or six days hence. Then, oddly, I didn't have anymore spotting all weekend long, and I started to get hopeful. I didn't mention my great white hope to George because I have done that so many times before only to issue the bad news later on. So I kept my hopes, along with the fact that I'd had any spotting at all, to myself and day by day I started to get excited. This morning I had some more spotting, though. My hopes were pretty much dashed, and I told George the situation. On the way in to work, I consulted my past charts hoping they would show me that even though I had a couple days of spotting, it was different that all those other months, and I might just be pregnant after all. The charts didn't give me any hope.
All these things did not lead me to throwing in the towel on this cycle, though. As I sat at work I pondered the possibility that I just might be pregnant after all. I came up with the idea of going out to buy a pregnancy test at CVS (something I have never done before), just to make sure. After mulling it over for an hour, I decided that I had to; I felt like I was being led to do this which, in turn, meant that the results just might come out in my favor. So I went out and spent $20 on two fancy digital tests (I bought the ad line on the packaging that said I could get a positive result five days before my period is due hook, line, and sinker), went back to work and read the instructions so that I wouldn't make any mistakes in the execution. I walked down the hallway to the bathroom telling myself over and over again, "I expect it to be negative. Don't get depressed when that's the result." There I was in the bathroom (thankfully, it is not a multiple stall bathroom) looking at that stupid little hourglass and willing it to say what I wanted. Well, it didn't listen ... Not Pregnant ... that's what I saw. Despite the fact that it's easier to read, I think it's actually worse seeing the negative result in the digital form rather than just the lonely little pink line. You can't squint your eyes and try to make it say something it's not. You can't bring it to the window to get a better look. There's no question at all.
So I put the test back in the wrapper and threw it out in the bathroom trash. There went all my ideas of surprising George with it when I got home. There went the fun back and forth we would have when he would inevitably say, "Why did you test? You were pretty sure you weren't pregnant this morning." And I would respond, "I just had a hunch," like all good mothers do. There I went, back to work.
4.13.2012
Day #14: Just Keep Trying
When I started TTC way back when, I found the website babycenter.com and discovered a thread that was dedicated to TTC over 35. I quickly fell into a friendship with this core group of infertiles and became acquainted with the struggles they had been experiencing for months and even years. Of the core group of six women, three already had children and were encountering secondary IF. Then there were the three of us who didn't have any children. My two childless cohorts had both been trying for years to get pregnant and were about to try IVF for the first time. Needless to say, neither of those attempts ended up working.
One of the women, Rachel, is now on her third round of IVF. Today she just had three embryos transferred into her uterus. She wrote today that she had a hard time being hopeful because she is pretty prepared for it not to work. I understand her perspective. I don't allow myself to get all that hopeful anymore. There's always a glimmer, but I try to squash it as much as possible just to enable me to keep my sanity. I am really hopeful for Rachel, though. I really want this time to be successful for her. First of all, our group needs a little bit of good news, plus, I just can't imagine the strength she has to muster to keep on trying time after time. It's bad enough when you have to have timed sex and all the unpleasantness associated with it, but when you add all the shots and procedures into it, less the sex, I just can't imagine. So much effort, time, and energy, not to mention money, spent for nothing.
So this is my prayer to those little embryos out there somewhere inside a woman I have never met, "Please get comfortable and stay. Your mother really has been through the wringer and wants you so very, very much." I hope somewhere out there someone is praying for me.
One of the women, Rachel, is now on her third round of IVF. Today she just had three embryos transferred into her uterus. She wrote today that she had a hard time being hopeful because she is pretty prepared for it not to work. I understand her perspective. I don't allow myself to get all that hopeful anymore. There's always a glimmer, but I try to squash it as much as possible just to enable me to keep my sanity. I am really hopeful for Rachel, though. I really want this time to be successful for her. First of all, our group needs a little bit of good news, plus, I just can't imagine the strength she has to muster to keep on trying time after time. It's bad enough when you have to have timed sex and all the unpleasantness associated with it, but when you add all the shots and procedures into it, less the sex, I just can't imagine. So much effort, time, and energy, not to mention money, spent for nothing.
So this is my prayer to those little embryos out there somewhere inside a woman I have never met, "Please get comfortable and stay. Your mother really has been through the wringer and wants you so very, very much." I hope somewhere out there someone is praying for me.
4.10.2012
Day #11: RE Stands for Really (Not) Encouraging
Today I had my appointment with the Reproductive Endocrinologist. Let's call her Dr. Cool (as in not warm; I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this one). First of all, I was a few minutes late since the information desk told me to take the wrong elevator. When I arrived, I was then shuttled off to talk to the insurance guru who was all stressed to tell me what I already knew ... that I had no insurance coverage for infertility treatment. The poor girl was so relieved that she didn't have to break the news to me. I think she's probably had to deal with many an hysterical, infertile woman and was girding herself for a similar experience with me. Anyway, after that brief interlude, they brought me back to the front desk and I checked in six minutes late for my appointment. There was a little nurse standing at the ready to take me right back to Dr. Cool's office where I was told that since I was late they were going to do vitals after so that Dr. Cool's schedule wouldn't be affected by my tardiness. I didn't even go into the whole saga of the misdirection and the insurance summit. It just seemed to be more effort than it was worth.
Dr. Cool then started to tell me how she had looked over my chart in preparation for our appointment, and we've been trying for two years so far? Wrong, Dr. Cool. It may seem like two years, but it has actually only been eight months. It was not starting well. Then she referred to my husband as Leon when discussing his SA. Wrong again, Dr. Cool, but you get points for trying to refer to him by name and the thought of him going by Leon did kind of make me smile. At that point she gave up and just went through my pre-appointment questionnaire. In the medical history section, she spent a solid five minutes trying to convince me to go on anti-depressants. She told me that there are options out there for people who are TTC, and that one shouldn't live depressed. I told her I was doing fine, that I see a therapist and the past few months have been difficult, but it was not anything that I couldn't handle. She also talked me into going to see yet another GI doctor. I told her about my horrible experience with Dr. Crazy Name, and she thought I needed a better doctor and someone who would take the time to look into the problem instead of dismissing it. I appreciated her willingness to advocate for that, although, I don't think I have any GI problem. She did say that Celiac or Crohn's could affect fertility, so I am willing to shell out another $50 to see if I get any further than I did last time. After that, she went into the whole explanation of IUI (not using the name) and saying that, given my age, it was best to be more aggressive in the treatment straight out of the gate. After explaining the whole process (I felt like saying, "Lady, TTC has been my life for the better part of the past year, do you honestly think I am completely unaware of this process?" I didn't though. I was a good girl and sat there and nodded.), I told her that I didn't have insurance coverage for any infertility related treatment until September and that I was unable to go that route at this time. So it is on to Clomid. She sent off a prescription to CVS, told me to try for three months and then come back to see her.
I don't know if it was because I got off on the wrong foot arriving a little late, or what the story is, but I feel that this was a bit of a waste of time. I guess it's because I knew what she was basically going to tell me before I even walked in the door. It's that I'm old and that's all there is to it. Of course I could have done without the whole, "At age 40 only one out of every twelve or fifteen eggs is good," comment. That was a little harsh to hear. I knew it was bad, but didn't know it was quite that bad. Given those statistics, though, that means that I should be hitting the jackpot in about 4-6 months! Of course then there is the 40% miscarriage rate of a 40 year old woman that she informed me of. Good times all around, I would say.
I'll take the Clomid and see where it gets me. She wants me to do OPKs so that I know when I am ovulating and then have sex every other day around that time. So much for taking it easy for the next few months. Let's face it, though, I wasn't all that good at that.
Dr. Cool then started to tell me how she had looked over my chart in preparation for our appointment, and we've been trying for two years so far? Wrong, Dr. Cool. It may seem like two years, but it has actually only been eight months. It was not starting well. Then she referred to my husband as Leon when discussing his SA. Wrong again, Dr. Cool, but you get points for trying to refer to him by name and the thought of him going by Leon did kind of make me smile. At that point she gave up and just went through my pre-appointment questionnaire. In the medical history section, she spent a solid five minutes trying to convince me to go on anti-depressants. She told me that there are options out there for people who are TTC, and that one shouldn't live depressed. I told her I was doing fine, that I see a therapist and the past few months have been difficult, but it was not anything that I couldn't handle. She also talked me into going to see yet another GI doctor. I told her about my horrible experience with Dr. Crazy Name, and she thought I needed a better doctor and someone who would take the time to look into the problem instead of dismissing it. I appreciated her willingness to advocate for that, although, I don't think I have any GI problem. She did say that Celiac or Crohn's could affect fertility, so I am willing to shell out another $50 to see if I get any further than I did last time. After that, she went into the whole explanation of IUI (not using the name) and saying that, given my age, it was best to be more aggressive in the treatment straight out of the gate. After explaining the whole process (I felt like saying, "Lady, TTC has been my life for the better part of the past year, do you honestly think I am completely unaware of this process?" I didn't though. I was a good girl and sat there and nodded.), I told her that I didn't have insurance coverage for any infertility related treatment until September and that I was unable to go that route at this time. So it is on to Clomid. She sent off a prescription to CVS, told me to try for three months and then come back to see her.
I don't know if it was because I got off on the wrong foot arriving a little late, or what the story is, but I feel that this was a bit of a waste of time. I guess it's because I knew what she was basically going to tell me before I even walked in the door. It's that I'm old and that's all there is to it. Of course I could have done without the whole, "At age 40 only one out of every twelve or fifteen eggs is good," comment. That was a little harsh to hear. I knew it was bad, but didn't know it was quite that bad. Given those statistics, though, that means that I should be hitting the jackpot in about 4-6 months! Of course then there is the 40% miscarriage rate of a 40 year old woman that she informed me of. Good times all around, I would say.
I'll take the Clomid and see where it gets me. She wants me to do OPKs so that I know when I am ovulating and then have sex every other day around that time. So much for taking it easy for the next few months. Let's face it, though, I wasn't all that good at that.
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