Back Again

So I suck at blogging when I'm not feeling well.  Seriously.

Health-wise, last week may go on record as one of my least favorites.  When I feel like being dramatic, I want to say, "That was the worst week ever!"  However, I continually remind myself that I have, in fact, had much worse weeks, and last week was just a drop in the bucket.  That's not to say that it wasn't incredibly eventful.  Along with being diagnosed with a cyst, I also managed to catch the flu.  Between the two ailments, I spent the last nine days sleeping every chance I could.  I canceled my classes one day and left work early the next.  To stay productive, I managed to read a lot of books and play a lot of Sudoku.  I'm finally feeling more like myself, but now I have so much catching up to do in terms of grading, housework, and blogging.

In regards my cyst, thankfully, I am feeling much, much better.  When I went to the doctor's office last Tuesday however--not so much.  By looking at my ultrasound, I could tell that my cyst was effing massive--or what looked effing massive to me.  It was certainly bigger than a fully developed follicle.  During that appointment, my doctor once again warned me against jogging, using a StairMaster, or any kind of excessive exercise because the cyst could rupture or contort.  Yeah, that kind of freaked me out.  Once I arrived at my office later that day, I sat down at my desk and cried from exhaustion.  My department head could see how uncomfortable I was, so he urged me to cancel my class and head home.  I felt so embarrassed to have to come to him with a "woman problem", but my boss assured me that this was a "person problem", and I shouldn't be sorry.  Have I ever mentioned that I have the best boss in the world?  Because I do.

A week later, the cyst has decreased in size and is giving me much less discomfort.  I occasionally feel a slight cramp or tinge on my right side, but altogether, I'm feeling much better than I did a week ago.  The biggest downside to the cyst, though, is that we are skipping fertility treatments this month.  No Clomid.  No progesterone.  No nothing.  Much like when I had a cold in February, when the doctor gave me this news, I was feeling so uncomfortable and tired that I really didn't feel too bad that things were coming to a halt this month.  On the plus side, I actually don't have to worry about scheduling insemination around my trip to Houston!  Score!  Kevin and I are kind of excited to have a month off to be normal--and try to have a baby the "old fashioned" way.  After all, once treatments start up again, it looks like we'll be using IUI. 

I will definitely try not to disappear again; I have far too much to talk about!

Freak Out

Well, it happened.  I had my first "Charlotte at the Highland Fling" moment.  The moment when my hormones freak out at the most inopportune time, and I make an ass out of myself in public (or in my case semi-public.)

I started out my St. Patrick's Day with a 7:30 ultrasound and blood draw.  A week after my last visit, I still hadn't gotten my period, so my doctor brought me in to see what was up.  During that visit, the ultrasound revealed that I developed a cyst on my right ovary.  Thankfully, it was a cyst filled with fluid, not composed of cells.  Apparently that's okay.  As I was getting signed-out of the office, the nurse practitioner assured me that I was okay, and they were going to run the usual tests, including a pregnancy test.  When she said that, I perked up and asked, "You mean that's still an option?"  "Oh yeah, it's possibility."  And with that, my hopes went up.

Kevin's family had come into town for the weekend to celebrate his birthday and St. Patrick's Day, and while I was very excited to see them, I was feeling a little (or maybe a lot) tense that I had a doctor's appointment on the weekend of their visit.  Of course, I was also prepping myself for how I would handle the inevitable phone call from my doctor's office.  Would my family be surrounding me when I received the news that last week's blood test was wrong, and I was in fact pregnant?  How do I handle that situation?  Or do I go off privately to take in whatever news they give me?

While my mother-in-law and I were out running errands to prep for our St. Patrick's Day dinner, the nurse practitioner called, and without saying it directly, I knew that I had another negative pregnancy test.  She also advised me that with the cyst I should "take it easy" and "not overexert" myself.  Granted, I think it's pretty cool when a doctor gives me orders to rest and relax, but at the same time, I was just a little freaked out by what "don't overexert yourself" means.  I had been feeling fairly uncomfortable for the last two or three weeks, feeling as though I had a weight attached to my right ovary.  In fact, on Tuesday during my first class, I nearly fainted as I was lecturing about grammar; that was a ton of fun. Also, as usual I was having the same old PMS symptoms that could easily be pregnancy symptoms.  Suffice to say, I was disappointed that all of these symptoms were simply due to a cyst.

I really thought I was doing a good job of holding it together.  I was trying not to be overwhelmed by everything that I was on my mind, but I'm sure that I was a little quieter than usual.  Then, as my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and I were baking cupcakes, an HP commercial comes on that features a brief moment from the movie Up.  As he usually does, Kevin starts to tease me about the opening montage to Up--you know, the first eight minutes that details the love story of Carl and Ellie.  I wept like a baby when I first saw that movie (I mean come on!  That is one of the most beautiful love stories ever told--and in such a short amount of time!), and Kevin likes to rib me any time that movie is mentioned.

Source: iwastesomuchtime.com via Caitlin on Pinterest

Normally, I laugh along with him and proudly proclaim that yes, dammit, I did cry during the first eight minutes of Up, and I am not ashamed of it!  This time, however, I remembered one key component of Ellie and Carl's love story:  they were never able to have children.

In an instant, I went from scooping out cupcake batter to crying over my baking.  As the tears started to flow, I thought, "Is this really happening?  Am I really doing this?  My family is here.  Everyone is standing around me.  I need to stop crying--but I don't think I can."  No one realized that I was seriously crying, and Kevin continued to tease me.  It took me a few moments before I could choke out the words, "Stop it."  Then--silence.  I continued to cry while everyone tried to act as normally as possible, meanwhile wondering what the hell had happened.

Once I calmed down enough so that I could speak again, I asked Kevin, "Don't you remember what happens during the first few minutes of Up?"  Kevin looked at me as though I had lost my mind.  I started to choke up again, so I whispered, "Carl and Ellie couldn't have children."  His face just fell.

That damn HP commercial came on every commercial break after that, and every time, Kevin and I tensed up.  I don't at all blame him for teasing me.  It's what we do.  He makes fun of me for crying at movies, and I tell him that he should cry more often.  We balance one another out.  Neither one of us could have foreseen that I would have such a strong reaction to the mention of the movie this time.

So now I can cross "hormones going crazy" off my TTC check-list.  I really cannot wait until I can use pregnancy for that excuse.  Right now, it feels as though my body is giving me all of the negative things that accompany pregnancies--but I don't get to feel any of the joy.

On a positive note, I did eat the best St. Patrick's Day meal of my entire life.  Our friend, Chris, make a fantastic corned beef and cabbage, and our potatoes totally rocked!  I'll never forget what the priest said at my grandfather funeral--whose birthday was March 17-- about him:  "Frannie was proud to be Irish, and he felt sorry for anyone who wasn't."  Like my grandfather, I do so love being Irish, and it's great to have such a great day celebrate it!

I never quite know how to conclude these sadder posts, so I'll just say, as usual, keep me in your prayers.  I'll be seeing my doctor in a couple days, and I'm sure I'll feel better then.  For now, I'm going to follow my doctor's advice and take it easy.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

For the occasion, here are a few of my favorite pictures from Ireland:

Dublin Pub.  Also my great-grandmother's maiden name.

At St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin

Heck yeah!

With my family at the River Liffey in Dublin

"May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,

may God hold you in the palm of His hand."

Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone!  Erin Go Braugh!

Happy birthday, Dezi!

Whenever people ask me what kind of dog Desdemona is, I usually say, "Oh, she's God's little creation," or "Well, she's a box puppy."  When Dezi was about eight weeks old, she and her little brother were left in a box at Wal-Mart in Waco, Texas.  Three of my former roommates found her, took pity on her, convinced someone else to give her little brother a home, and kept Dezi for themselves.  They even named her Desdemona for the sheer irony that well, she's black, and the character Desdemona is well...not.  When Dezi was about eleven months old, I moved into the house where she was living--and the rest is history.  It took me a little while to feel as though Dezi was my dog and not my roommates' dog, but I can assure you that I fell in love with this little dog the minute I met her.  Later that year, as everyone moved in separate directions, I asked if I could keep Dezi, and eight years later, she's still such a great part of my life.

When I try to explain how I feel such a connection to my dog, one story in particular always comes to my mind:

Six days before my wedding day, my Aunt Eileen was admitted into the Mayo Clinic due to complications from scleroderma and emphysema; throughout the day, we kept getting reports that her condition was worsening, and by the end of the night, she had been intubated and placed on a ventilator.  Going to bed that night, I was sure that one way or another my aunt was not coming to my wedding.

The next morning when I awoke, I felt--empty.  I felt as though a piece of my family was missing, and I knew that as soon as I got out of bed, I would be greeted with the news that Eileen had passed away.  I braced myself to face the day, but I had one thing stopping me:  Desdemona.  Throughout the night she had slept so closely to me, pressed up against me so that I could not escape her touch.  As I tried to get out of bed, Dezi would not budge.  She stayed completely still and pinned me to where I was laying.  It was as though she was saying, "Just be still.  Stay still for a minute, Mom, before you have to go out and face the day.  I'm here.  Just stay here with me for a minute."  So Dezi and I stayed in bed and cuddled for another thirty minutes.  I knew in my heart that Eileen was gone, and Dezi knew just how sad I was.  So she stayed with me, comforted me, filled up my emptiness.

To this day, Dezi is the same way.  She doesn't always grasp when I'm physically sick, but when my heart is hurting, Dezi is always by my side.  On the days that infertility has been especially rough, my dog takes care of me, cuddles with me, and gives me so much love when I need it.

I can't even being to explain what a blessing this little dog is to me.  She's warm, affectionate, and loving.  Pretty much anyone who meets her falls in love with her.  It's no wonder that she's had at least five "mommies", but I'm glad that I get to be her last.  Oh, and for the record, we're pretty sure she's a mixture between a corgi, Scottish terrier, and maybe a labrador or skipper key.

Happy birthday, Desdemona!  I love you, little puppy!

Book Club Friday: The Hunger Games

 

In case you live in a hole...The Hunger Games opens next Friday!!  Hooray!!

For my full review of the book, be sure to check out this post.  

So that I can be an uber-fan, I will be re-reading The Hunger Games this week in preparation for the movie premiere.  Also, I can be one of those annoying people who screams out, "That's not what happens in the book!"  Luckily, I have been incredibly impressed with the trailers thus far, and because Suzanne Collins served as a screenwriter for the film, I have a feeling we won't be disappointed with this film adaptation.  My friend, Becky, is trying to convince me to attend the midnight premiere of the movie; unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), I think she is incredibly close to convincing me to go.  I guess I will have to just suck it up and deal with the screaming teenagers.

Thank you to my book swap buddy, Jessica at Pretty Physicist, for reminding me that I need to re-read this book before the movie premiere.  Also, thanks again to Heather at Blonde Undercover Blonde for hosting Book Club Friday.  Hope you and Baby BUB are doing okay!

If you've read the books already, re-read them for the movie.  If you haven't read the series yet, you can finish this book in plenty of time before the movie premiere.  Either way, go read The Hunger Games!  And enjoy!

Happy Birthday to the Husband!

Yesterday, I came across across a Yahoo! news article entitled, "The 9 Secrets of Happy Couples."  Normally, I never agree with Yahoo's articles, but since this one made me look good--I'll totally agree with it!

In some form or fashion, Kevin and I meet each of these nine criteria.  We have pet names for one another, and the amount of inside jokes we have together is just ridiculous.  Sometimes, I feel bad for our families because when we're around them, we practically speak in a code that filled with The League, Futurama, and Modern Family inside jokes.  We actually compete as to who is going to give the other the best Christmas gifts--which we affectionately termed "winning Christmas"--and not a day has gone by in my marriage when Kevin has not made me laugh.  Even when I get angry with him, he manages to crack a joke, and I can't help but soften.

Above all, we really have made it through "for better or worse" (which ironically was not in our marriage vows.)  We've had many happy times in our marriage in our beautiful home on Long Island with our two furry kids.  We've also been able to travel to some wonderful places together, including Scotland, Ireland, New England, Canada, Texas, Colorado, and a whole bunch of other spots.  But every day has not been sunshine and roses. While some men may have pulled a Trey MacDougal and given up when infertility became difficult, Kevin had stuck by my side and been the shoulder I needed to lean on.  If kids are not a part of our future, I still know that my life will be rich with love and happiness, all because of this man.

Happy Birthday, Honey!  I'm honored to spend this birthday with you and many, many more to come!  I love you!

 (FYI--this was the first picture Kevin and I ever took together.  We were in a musical called Bat Boy.  He was the bat boy; I was a hooker.  This picture was also the first look his mother ever got of me. Yeah, she passed the photo around to her friends.  That was a nice first impression.) 

Another Blood Test...

This morning, I had my "two weeks after ovulation blood test"--aka pregnancy test.  In all honesty, between the disappointing post-coital test and my low progesterone levels, I was not at all expecting to be pregant--which I am not.  I cried a little when I called my husband with the news, but all in all, I'm not nearly in as big of a depressed shame-spiral as I was last month.  I think I might be all cried-out from two weeks ago.  Also, when I learned that I would need to take progesterone, I was on my way to getting my hair cut.  When my hairdresser asked me why I was so quiet, I choked up and shed a few tears in the middle of my haircut.  So today, after work, I think I'm going to enjoy a glass of red wine--because I can--and chill out.

Once again, I am very much looking forward to getting my period.  How many women can actually say that?  My PMS symptoms aren't as strong as they were last month, so because of my progesterone levels, I am a little concerned that it's going to take its sweet time getting here.  I was having some ridiculous cramps this morning, but after an adjustment from my chiropractor, I feel much, much better.  Also, my student conferences are ending today, so I will not have to sit in an uncomfortable office chair for ten hours a day anymore.

As this cycle is ending, I do have a whole new--and different--set of anxieties cropping up.  With this last post-coital test, it looks as though we are definitely going to have to do IUI with this next cycle.  After counting out the days in my last cycle, I most likely would ovulate during the first week in April.  Wednesday through Saturday of that week, I will in Houston, attending a conference with my father--and without my husband.  I essentially have a two day window during which I would not be able to be inseminated.  (As a note, I think "inseminated" is going to be added to my yucky words list.  It doesn't creep me out as much as "mucus", but I'm not a huge fan of saying it.)  I suppose I can say lots and lots of prayers that I do not ovulate April 4-7; hopefully God takes those kind of specific requests.

Thank you again to those of you who have offered prayer and encouragement.  This wasn't the month--and that's okay.  It's coming...

Bachelor Rant

Never before had I been more excited to watch the "Women Tell All" episode on the Bachelor.  Aside from all of Courtney's antics, I was most excited to see the women just rip Bed to shreds.  I mean, seriously, the guy went skinny dipping with one woman while he was dating ten other women.  He said marriage vows to that same woman when he still had four women left.  He was nasty to Casey when she left, he became defensive when Emily expressed concern about Courtney, and he didn't even walk women out of the rose ceremony until it was down to the last four women.  I mean--seriously!  Even though at the beginning of this season I was optimistic about Ben's turn as the bachelor, when he let Shawntel go, I was pretty much done then.

I am terribly disappointed with the way the women treated Ben--and for that matter Courtney.  Don't get me wrong, Courtney deserved what was coming to her.  She said a lot of nasty things about the women, and in general acted pretty weird.  However, what I don't like is that the women seemed to hold Courtney solely responsible for what happened in her relationship with Ben.  Why did they accuse Courtney of not respecting them when she went skinny dipping with Ben--and yet they never even mentioned the incident when Ben was questioned?  It's takes two to tango, and Ben made his own decisions.

Emily seemed to be the only one with a good head of her shoulders and recognized that maybe Ben isn't the best husband--or even boyfriend--material.  She pointed out how his reaction to her concerns was cold and unnecessay, and yet, when Ben was in the hot seat, she just poked fun at herself for rapping.  Seriously women--let this man know that his actions were totally inappropriate!  Then, Nikki gushed about how he was one of the greatest men she's ever known, and Jamie offered to date him once he broke up with his final choice.  Ladies, respect yourselves enough to know that Ben is not an example of a true gentleman.  I'm sure much of their discussion was edited by the producers, so as to make viewers think that Ben is an okay guy and thus get people to watch the finale.  I still would have liked to have seen a bachelor that not a single woman respected at the end of the season.

With that, I will be watching next week's episode for the sole reason of seeing idyllic scenes of Switzerland and counting down the days until Emily's turn as the Bachelorette is upon us!

So what are your thoughts?  Is this the worst season of the Bachelor ever?

Progesterone

On Friday, I went to get my blood drawn so that the doctor could determine if my body was producing the necessary hormones to sustain a pregnancy.  I think I became way too confident after last month.  After all, everything--except for the fact that I did not get pregnant--went almost perfectly.  Last month, one dose of Clomid produced a good-sized follicle, and my progesterone and estrogen levels were "fantastic".  This month, not so much...

One of my favorite nurses called me on Friday to tell me that while my estrogen levels looked great, my progesterone was at a 3.  Apparently, that is a low number.  Thus, over the weekend, I had to take vaginal progesterone suppositories.  Unfortunately, the directions on the box tell me nothing other than how to insert it, and whenever I google taking progesterone, I never get the answers that I need.  For instance, how long does it take for the progesterone to dissolve?  What if it doesn't dissolve after 6 hours?  How do I know if I've inserted it correctly?  I'm going to write a post later on once I learn more about using the suppositories.

Because this cycle has been fraught with some disappointments, I'm a little ready for my period to get here, so we can just try again.  Thankfully, I have wonderful people in my life who have given me the encouragement that I need to stay positive.  Right now, I'm not having any pregnancy symptoms...but I'm not having any PMS symptoms either.  We shall see what the next week holds...

It's Okay

Sometimes, when I'm feeling a little blue, I have a tendency to blame myself for having PCOS.  I think, "If only I had a better diet, then I wouldn't have PCOS.  If only I exercised more, then I wouldn't be infertile.  If only I didn't stress myself out so much, if I were just a little less busy, then my ovaries would be working normally.  If only...if only...if only..."

Then, on days like today, I realize that I have done nothing wrong, and I just drew the short end of the stick when it comes to fertility.  How do I know this?

If this woman can get pregnant, then there really is no logic when it comes to fertility.