On Aug 30th, 2010, I became pregnant. Well, the embryo and the spare that would become my girls was transferred back into my body.
Coincidentally, I've felt like crap all day. Could barely get out of bed, everything is stiff, and even 2 hours later after my acupuncture appointment, I still felt like I hadn't actually woken up yet.
And last night I got a headache. Got another one earlier but took some aspirin and I'm starting to feel just tired rather than exhausted and achy.
Wish I could make some big connections between the date and feeling crappy, but since I really haven't been dwelling, I'm going to have to chalk it up to coincidence or the beginnings of some sort of illness.
In diet news, not doing so good. I saw 233.9 on the scale a couple of days ago but today I bounced back up to 237 (aka, the starting weight for this particular weight loss endeavor). I'm not really good at this when the deadline is vague, seems so far off, and there's only a couple of pounds to lose. It's too easy to tell myself that this one cookie doesn't matter. So I end up telling myself that more often than I should.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Beyonce
Congrats girlfriend.
Dear "serious" news outlets,
I don't give a hoot about Beyonce or the VMA's or any of that crap. Yes, it's lovely that a happily married woman is going to increase the size of her family. But when I'm watching coverage of hurricane Irene's carnage, do you have to show me the beaming, gorgeous woman rubbing her baby bump? Seriously, she is doing it so all the photographers can get a good shot and it's a bit cheesy.
When I finally have a bump, would you be so kind as to send camera crews and thousands of audience members to my house to applaud and tell me how wonderful it is? Because if it actually happens here, it's an accomplishment worthy of some frikkin applause.
Sincerely,
Your favorite FUBAR'ed infertile
Dear "serious" news outlets,
I don't give a hoot about Beyonce or the VMA's or any of that crap. Yes, it's lovely that a happily married woman is going to increase the size of her family. But when I'm watching coverage of hurricane Irene's carnage, do you have to show me the beaming, gorgeous woman rubbing her baby bump? Seriously, she is doing it so all the photographers can get a good shot and it's a bit cheesy.
When I finally have a bump, would you be so kind as to send camera crews and thousands of audience members to my house to applaud and tell me how wonderful it is? Because if it actually happens here, it's an accomplishment worthy of some frikkin applause.
Sincerely,
Your favorite FUBAR'ed infertile
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
The long road was supposed to be short
Well, it's coming up on that time. That time when I start thinking in terms of "one year ago today...."
I never wanted to be years into this journey. I really didn't. I figured that after over 4 years of trying naturally, then finding out we were good candidates for IVF, well, I thought I was gonna be one of the lucky ones. I started the fertility treatments when I was nearing the end of age 34. It really never occurred to me that I would find myself well into age 36 still prepped at the starting line, waiting for the pistol to shoot. But here I am. Butt in the air, feet ready to launch, hands on the track, and the pistol still ain't shooting.
And at the start of this journey, we had a false start. That first IVF attempt was stopped just before egg retrieval because of a hormone surge. I was arrogant enough to believe that that was it. That was our challenge. That was going to be the extent of our troubles along this journey.
And when the second attempt resulted in twins and extra embryos, oh boy did my arrogance soar! We had a false start, and to make up for it, the universe was giving me twins, woot!
You can see the arrogance simply in the title of this blog. I never bothered to write about the infertility part of it (other than a basic recap at the beginning of the blog) and instead, I had intended to become a mommy blogger. Blogging about the daily life of raising twins, starting from the very, very beginning of pregnancy.
Here I am, coming up on the one year anniversary of the creation of my girls. Aug 25th was egg retrieval and embryo creation day. Aug 30th was transfer day. A year ago, progress was being made. The pistol was firing and my feet were launching my body off of those starting blocks.
And now, I've been smacked by the officials for my arrogance that the race was ready to be run and told to get my butt back in those starting blocks. I really wanted to be jumping over a hurdle or two by now. To at least be a few steps closer to the finish line. But no. Not my destiny.
If I'm still poised here at the end of December, the anniversary of losing my girls, well, that's a blog post I hope I don't have to write.
I never wanted to be years into this journey. I really didn't. I figured that after over 4 years of trying naturally, then finding out we were good candidates for IVF, well, I thought I was gonna be one of the lucky ones. I started the fertility treatments when I was nearing the end of age 34. It really never occurred to me that I would find myself well into age 36 still prepped at the starting line, waiting for the pistol to shoot. But here I am. Butt in the air, feet ready to launch, hands on the track, and the pistol still ain't shooting.
And at the start of this journey, we had a false start. That first IVF attempt was stopped just before egg retrieval because of a hormone surge. I was arrogant enough to believe that that was it. That was our challenge. That was going to be the extent of our troubles along this journey.
And when the second attempt resulted in twins and extra embryos, oh boy did my arrogance soar! We had a false start, and to make up for it, the universe was giving me twins, woot!
You can see the arrogance simply in the title of this blog. I never bothered to write about the infertility part of it (other than a basic recap at the beginning of the blog) and instead, I had intended to become a mommy blogger. Blogging about the daily life of raising twins, starting from the very, very beginning of pregnancy.
Here I am, coming up on the one year anniversary of the creation of my girls. Aug 25th was egg retrieval and embryo creation day. Aug 30th was transfer day. A year ago, progress was being made. The pistol was firing and my feet were launching my body off of those starting blocks.
And now, I've been smacked by the officials for my arrogance that the race was ready to be run and told to get my butt back in those starting blocks. I really wanted to be jumping over a hurdle or two by now. To at least be a few steps closer to the finish line. But no. Not my destiny.
If I'm still poised here at the end of December, the anniversary of losing my girls, well, that's a blog post I hope I don't have to write.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
My stupid hair
When I was pregnant, one of the major changes was that I lost about half of my hair. It fell out at a drastic rate, we broke a vacuum because of the clogs. I used to have extremely thick hair. Like Claudia Schiffer thick. I've always worn it long because if it's not below my shoulders, it just gets really really big, but wearing it long weighs it down so it actually hangs.
After the pregnancy, I've had fairly average hair. And I haven't been able to figure out a damned thing to do with it. All of the hair holding devices I own are for extremely thick hair so they just fall out.
I did a video shoot at a hair salon a couple of months ago and when we finished the shoot, I went ahead and got a haircut. I told her what was up, that I don't know what the hell to do with it now. So she says "Oh, well you see all of these flyaways on top of your head? It's growing back. That's all new hair growth." Swell.
So here I am, unpregnant for 8 months now, and 50% of the hair on my head is 4 inches in length, and the other 50% is about 15 inches in length. It feels really weird to run my hand through my hair and have this sudden drop off in thickness about 4 inches out from my head.
I took a picture so you can see that I'm not exaggerating. From that one lock of hair, my fingers are holding the few strands that survived the pregnancy. The hundreds of other hairs that stop about 4 inches out are hairs that fell out of my head during the pregnancy and are now growing back.
In other "how my body is now really funky" news - those jeans that I finally outgrew at the end of my pregnancy, that I couldn't button a few days before I lost the girls, yeah, those jeans. I can now pull them off over my fat butt without unzipping or unbuttoning them.
I guess I really have lost weight. Yay?
After the pregnancy, I've had fairly average hair. And I haven't been able to figure out a damned thing to do with it. All of the hair holding devices I own are for extremely thick hair so they just fall out.
I did a video shoot at a hair salon a couple of months ago and when we finished the shoot, I went ahead and got a haircut. I told her what was up, that I don't know what the hell to do with it now. So she says "Oh, well you see all of these flyaways on top of your head? It's growing back. That's all new hair growth." Swell.
So here I am, unpregnant for 8 months now, and 50% of the hair on my head is 4 inches in length, and the other 50% is about 15 inches in length. It feels really weird to run my hand through my hair and have this sudden drop off in thickness about 4 inches out from my head.
I took a picture so you can see that I'm not exaggerating. From that one lock of hair, my fingers are holding the few strands that survived the pregnancy. The hundreds of other hairs that stop about 4 inches out are hairs that fell out of my head during the pregnancy and are now growing back.
In other "how my body is now really funky" news - those jeans that I finally outgrew at the end of my pregnancy, that I couldn't button a few days before I lost the girls, yeah, those jeans. I can now pull them off over my fat butt without unzipping or unbuttoning them.
I guess I really have lost weight. Yay?
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Evil Laughter
I just got the mail. Guess what I got in the mail?
Ok, I'll tell you.
I got a patient satisfaction survey from my IVF clinic. Excuse me, from the clinic that I'm now stuck with since they overtook the clinic I actually liked a year ago.
Muwahahahahaha!
This piece of junk mail will not be going in the recycle bin.
Ok, I'll tell you.
I got a patient satisfaction survey from my IVF clinic. Excuse me, from the clinic that I'm now stuck with since they overtook the clinic I actually liked a year ago.
Muwahahahahaha!
This piece of junk mail will not be going in the recycle bin.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Shameless Plug
Hey all!
I'm not usually one to advertise, but I'm gonna get over that shyness for today.
While I used to identify myself as a videographer, this last year has seen pottery overtake video in how I spend my time and professional efforts.
When Christmas shopping season is upon us, I hope you guys will give my shop a quick look and see if there's something there that might be a good gift for one or more of your loved ones.
And I'm bringing this up in August because if anyone has any special requests, or would like something specific made, I need to get to started on those things within the next month to make sure they are ready before the holidays.
And that's my shameless plug for the day! Everyone check out my shop!
PS - I made a coupon for all of you. 10% off every item in my shop, 1 use per person, valid until November 30. Enter the coupon code "IFSUCKS" for your 10% off during checkout!
I'm not usually one to advertise, but I'm gonna get over that shyness for today.
While I used to identify myself as a videographer, this last year has seen pottery overtake video in how I spend my time and professional efforts.
When Christmas shopping season is upon us, I hope you guys will give my shop a quick look and see if there's something there that might be a good gift for one or more of your loved ones.
And I'm bringing this up in August because if anyone has any special requests, or would like something specific made, I need to get to started on those things within the next month to make sure they are ready before the holidays.
And that's my shameless plug for the day! Everyone check out my shop!
PS - I made a coupon for all of you. 10% off every item in my shop, 1 use per person, valid until November 30. Enter the coupon code "IFSUCKS" for your 10% off during checkout!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Stop the insanity
I have a confession to make. The last few days, I've been doing the infertility dance of stupidity.
Here's the deal. After my FET, I had a period. 2 weeks later, I had another one and we started BCP in hopes of moving forward with a fresh IVF cycle. And two weeks into that, we stopped the IVF cycle, went of BCP and had yet another period. Yes, that's three, count them three periods over a 4-5 week time frame.
At the end of that period, the hubs and I did what husbands and wives do. And a week later, I had some very faint pink tinge on my toilet paper.
And all I could think was "implantation bleeding?" That was 3 or 4 days ago. Guess what I've been doing the past 3 mornings!
Ok. The rational person in me says "I'm being really stupid here". I mean seriously, the timing of the deed was at the tail end of a period, so wrong time of the month under normal person circumstances. I don't ovulate anyway so the odds of me ovulating when my body has been put through so much crap for the last three months, yeah, no way I would have actually ovulated. And hubby's contribution doesn't do its job either. So that's three reasons why it would be absolutely impossible for us to get an accidental freebie. Wrong timing, wrong female, wrong male.
But like every other infertility female out there, I'm imagining all sorts of symptoms. Like a mild cramp across my uterus. The fact that my nose has been really stuffy the last couple of days. And I just got a McDonalds cheeseburger and after 2 bites, I went "blech" and gave it to the hubby (my tastebuds suddenly hated all processed foods when I was pregnant before).
All sticks confirm that I'm out of my mind. But this is also why I bought the cheapies in bulk. I'll probably go through another half dozen or so in the next week and absolutely confirm that my imagination is my worst enemy.
And as stupid as I know I'm being, I have a hunch I'm not the first to do this dance, and I won't be the last. What kind of infertility dances of stupidity have you guys done?
Here's the deal. After my FET, I had a period. 2 weeks later, I had another one and we started BCP in hopes of moving forward with a fresh IVF cycle. And two weeks into that, we stopped the IVF cycle, went of BCP and had yet another period. Yes, that's three, count them three periods over a 4-5 week time frame.
At the end of that period, the hubs and I did what husbands and wives do. And a week later, I had some very faint pink tinge on my toilet paper.
And all I could think was "implantation bleeding?" That was 3 or 4 days ago. Guess what I've been doing the past 3 mornings!
Ok. The rational person in me says "I'm being really stupid here". I mean seriously, the timing of the deed was at the tail end of a period, so wrong time of the month under normal person circumstances. I don't ovulate anyway so the odds of me ovulating when my body has been put through so much crap for the last three months, yeah, no way I would have actually ovulated. And hubby's contribution doesn't do its job either. So that's three reasons why it would be absolutely impossible for us to get an accidental freebie. Wrong timing, wrong female, wrong male.
But like every other infertility female out there, I'm imagining all sorts of symptoms. Like a mild cramp across my uterus. The fact that my nose has been really stuffy the last couple of days. And I just got a McDonalds cheeseburger and after 2 bites, I went "blech" and gave it to the hubby (my tastebuds suddenly hated all processed foods when I was pregnant before).
All sticks confirm that I'm out of my mind. But this is also why I bought the cheapies in bulk. I'll probably go through another half dozen or so in the next week and absolutely confirm that my imagination is my worst enemy.
And as stupid as I know I'm being, I have a hunch I'm not the first to do this dance, and I won't be the last. What kind of infertility dances of stupidity have you guys done?
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Song Lyrics That Make Me Cry Round 1
Let's see if I can start some sort of regular feature on this blog! I think I'm going to go with .... song lyrics!
Ya know how when you go through a breakup, suddenly every song on the radio takes on a new meaning, as if it totally relates to your situation? After losing my girls, and going through this infertility BS, yup, I'm doing that same thing.
So, here we are, with song lyrics that can make me cry.
First - Won't Go Home Without You by Maroon 5. In particular, the chorus. Every time I hear it now, I'm right back in that hospital bed, deciding whether to die with my girls, or to go home without them.
And as a bonus track, this being the first installment and all, I give you Maybe This Time from Cabaret!
Ya know how when you go through a breakup, suddenly every song on the radio takes on a new meaning, as if it totally relates to your situation? After losing my girls, and going through this infertility BS, yup, I'm doing that same thing.
So, here we are, with song lyrics that can make me cry.
First - Won't Go Home Without You by Maroon 5. In particular, the chorus. Every time I hear it now, I'm right back in that hospital bed, deciding whether to die with my girls, or to go home without them.
Every night you cry yourself to sleep
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"
Hard to believe that
It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you
And as a bonus track, this being the first installment and all, I give you Maybe This Time from Cabaret!
Maybe this time, I'll be lucky
Maybe this time, he'll stay
Maybe this time
For the first time
Love won't hurry away
He will hold me fast
I'll be home at last
Not a loser anymore
Like the last time
And the time before
Everybody loves a winner
So nobody loved me;
'Lady Peaceful,' 'Lady Happy,'
That's what I long to be
All the odds are in my favor
Something's bound to begin
It's got to happen, happen sometime
Maybe this time I'll win
Friday, August 12, 2011
I didn't want smaller pants
On my way home today, I stopped at Payless to grab a new pair of shoes. I've pretty much worn through my current pair and we gotta replace those things every so often!
Next door was a plus sized store. Checked through my little entertainment coupon book to see if I had a coupon for that store, and yup I did.
I have a full supply of jeans that I've purchased over the years, all the same size. A while ago, I gave away my smaller sized clothes because someone was in need, and I hadn't been able to wear them in a couple of years. I held on to 2 pairs of those smaller jeans, just in case, but honestly never expected to wear them again.
And then the year of loss began. At the beginning of last summer, I was 266lbs. I lost about 15lbs before getting pregnant, and never got fully back up to the 266 again. Then of course I was suddenly unpregnant and lost a few more pounds in those weeks when I couldn't stand to eat. And then this most recent whoosh of weight loss from the super diet from hell.
All in all, I'm almost 30lbs lighter than I was a year ago. I've been wearing my big pants when working in the pottery studio (because they're gonna get muddy and don't need to fit right), and I've been wearing those 2 other pairs of jeans out in public.
But now those two pairs of jeans are starting to sag. My skinny jeans are officially too big for me. So I bit the bullet, shopped for a new pair of jeans, a pair that actually fits so I can go to a restaurant with my parents without feeling like a complete schlub.
But you know what? While it might seem really thrilling to be forced to buy new pants because you've gotten smaller, it really sucks for me. If all goes according to plan, I'm going to lose another 8lbs (thus really needing the new pants for a month or so) and then immediately start growing again. We're not in a good financial place, so spending money on pants that I want to outgrow in 2-3 months is yet another exercise in seeing how much guilt I can lay on myself.
I don't want smaller pants. I want elastic pants.
I guess, on the upside, I have a full wardrobe for pregnancy. Start out filling out the skinny jeans, then upgrade to my normal jeans, then wearing that pair of jeans that was always too big for me, and finally, in the last glorious month, into the actual elastic front maternity jeans that I own.
Man, even accomplishing stuff I've been desperate to accomplish my whole life (losing weight) SUCKS when battling infertility.
Next door was a plus sized store. Checked through my little entertainment coupon book to see if I had a coupon for that store, and yup I did.
I have a full supply of jeans that I've purchased over the years, all the same size. A while ago, I gave away my smaller sized clothes because someone was in need, and I hadn't been able to wear them in a couple of years. I held on to 2 pairs of those smaller jeans, just in case, but honestly never expected to wear them again.
And then the year of loss began. At the beginning of last summer, I was 266lbs. I lost about 15lbs before getting pregnant, and never got fully back up to the 266 again. Then of course I was suddenly unpregnant and lost a few more pounds in those weeks when I couldn't stand to eat. And then this most recent whoosh of weight loss from the super diet from hell.
All in all, I'm almost 30lbs lighter than I was a year ago. I've been wearing my big pants when working in the pottery studio (because they're gonna get muddy and don't need to fit right), and I've been wearing those 2 other pairs of jeans out in public.
But now those two pairs of jeans are starting to sag. My skinny jeans are officially too big for me. So I bit the bullet, shopped for a new pair of jeans, a pair that actually fits so I can go to a restaurant with my parents without feeling like a complete schlub.
But you know what? While it might seem really thrilling to be forced to buy new pants because you've gotten smaller, it really sucks for me. If all goes according to plan, I'm going to lose another 8lbs (thus really needing the new pants for a month or so) and then immediately start growing again. We're not in a good financial place, so spending money on pants that I want to outgrow in 2-3 months is yet another exercise in seeing how much guilt I can lay on myself.
I don't want smaller pants. I want elastic pants.
I guess, on the upside, I have a full wardrobe for pregnancy. Start out filling out the skinny jeans, then upgrade to my normal jeans, then wearing that pair of jeans that was always too big for me, and finally, in the last glorious month, into the actual elastic front maternity jeans that I own.
Man, even accomplishing stuff I've been desperate to accomplish my whole life (losing weight) SUCKS when battling infertility.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The Temporary Club
When you find yourself in the infertility club, it's very common to feel all alone. So we seek out other bloggers and people in general who are going through the same thing. We start to get to know each others stories, we put their blogs in our subscription lists so we can follow along with the struggles of someone else who is struggling just like we are, we narrow our subscriptions down to the people that we like, that seem most like us, that we find entertaining.
Then, what inevitably happens? The bitch graduates.
And here we are, passing on our "congrats!" and "OMG I'm so happy for you!" when what we're really thinking is "Fuck, she won, I'm still a loser, and I'm stuck, left behind, still alone in this fucking club."
And then those thoughts move on to "Oh shit, am I the old pro now??? Crap, am I becoming one of those people who has years of this shit under her belt? NOOOOOOO!!!!! I want to be the scared newbie, reaching out to others for their expertise and advice! I was supposed to graduate before I become knowledgeable enough to be an old pro dispensing advice!"
To every graduating bitch - congratulations. Seriously, in my heart, I'm really happy for you. And right next to that feeling in my heart is another feeling of fuck you for leaving me behind to wallow in this club without you.
And when it's my turn, I will gladly accept every "fuck you" that ends up in my mailbox. You won't hurt my feelings one bit.
Then, what inevitably happens? The bitch graduates.
And here we are, passing on our "congrats!" and "OMG I'm so happy for you!" when what we're really thinking is "Fuck, she won, I'm still a loser, and I'm stuck, left behind, still alone in this fucking club."
And then those thoughts move on to "Oh shit, am I the old pro now??? Crap, am I becoming one of those people who has years of this shit under her belt? NOOOOOOO!!!!! I want to be the scared newbie, reaching out to others for their expertise and advice! I was supposed to graduate before I become knowledgeable enough to be an old pro dispensing advice!"
To every graduating bitch - congratulations. Seriously, in my heart, I'm really happy for you. And right next to that feeling in my heart is another feeling of fuck you for leaving me behind to wallow in this club without you.
And when it's my turn, I will gladly accept every "fuck you" that ends up in my mailbox. You won't hurt my feelings one bit.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Dieting 2.0
Well, back on the diet! Took a few lovely days off. Had a rendezvous with some brownies. A big mac made an appearance. The treadmill hath been neglected.
But it's time. Time to undo the damage and start pushing those numbers further down. Yes, my doctor says they should have the backup plan hammered out by the time I'm doing my next cycle ..... just like last time.
New calculations:
I'm 5'4".
Current weight = 239.2lbs. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised. I was expecting at least 2 more pounds to pack on while I ate this weekend. But okey dokey! If the pounds don't want to pack back on, I'm not gonna make them!
BMI of 39.9 = weight of 232.5lbs.
Weigh-in date = Unknown. Estimating AF to be 4 weeks from now and suppression check to be about 2-3 weeks after that, I'm estimating Sept 20th.
Spark people settings - Calculating a goal weight of 230lbs by Sept 20th, my daily calorie range is between 1310-1660. I will readjust every Monday to keep on top of any weight loss or gain and if we get any updates on the weigh-in date.
What I'm doing to make it easier this time around -
One of the problems with the last diet, apart from it being so few calories every day, was that K is the primary cook in the household. I would spend all day absolutely starving myself because I didn't know what he intended to do about dinner that night and I needed to be prepared in case it was more calories than I had planned on. Then K would come home and struggle to find a meal that he could cook with as few calories as possible.
So this time, I've established with K that I will be eating around 700 calories during the day and anticipating a dinner that's anywhere up to about 500 calories. That way I know what I can eat during the day, what I can anticipate him preparing for me, and that gives him a lot more cooking freedom. And it still leaves me some calories free for evening snacks, which is really when I do most of my eating anyway.
Since I'll actually be eating a few calories this time, I'm hoping to not be nearly as obsessed as I was last time. For the time being, I'll be shooting for the middle of the range, or around 1500 calories per day. It's going to feel darned near gluttonous compared to last time.
But it's time. Time to undo the damage and start pushing those numbers further down. Yes, my doctor says they should have the backup plan hammered out by the time I'm doing my next cycle ..... just like last time.
New calculations:
I'm 5'4".
Current weight = 239.2lbs. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised. I was expecting at least 2 more pounds to pack on while I ate this weekend. But okey dokey! If the pounds don't want to pack back on, I'm not gonna make them!
BMI of 39.9 = weight of 232.5lbs.
Weigh-in date = Unknown. Estimating AF to be 4 weeks from now and suppression check to be about 2-3 weeks after that, I'm estimating Sept 20th.
Spark people settings - Calculating a goal weight of 230lbs by Sept 20th, my daily calorie range is between 1310-1660. I will readjust every Monday to keep on top of any weight loss or gain and if we get any updates on the weigh-in date.
What I'm doing to make it easier this time around -
One of the problems with the last diet, apart from it being so few calories every day, was that K is the primary cook in the household. I would spend all day absolutely starving myself because I didn't know what he intended to do about dinner that night and I needed to be prepared in case it was more calories than I had planned on. Then K would come home and struggle to find a meal that he could cook with as few calories as possible.
So this time, I've established with K that I will be eating around 700 calories during the day and anticipating a dinner that's anywhere up to about 500 calories. That way I know what I can eat during the day, what I can anticipate him preparing for me, and that gives him a lot more cooking freedom. And it still leaves me some calories free for evening snacks, which is really when I do most of my eating anyway.
Since I'll actually be eating a few calories this time, I'm hoping to not be nearly as obsessed as I was last time. For the time being, I'll be shooting for the middle of the range, or around 1500 calories per day. It's going to feel darned near gluttonous compared to last time.
I'm a horrible mommy
Our little kitty Jipsee has learned that when we feed the feral cats on the deck, she can escape outside through that door just the same as she can out the front door. And she's very insistent on doing so.
She likes to sleep in the cat carriers that leave open in various places in the house. We tend to just leave them out because she likes them, and the more accustomed the cats are to having them around, the less scary they find them when we need to take them to the vet in them.
She likes to sleep in the cat carriers that leave open in various places in the house. We tend to just leave them out because she likes them, and the more accustomed the cats are to having them around, the less scary they find them when we need to take them to the vet in them.
So when K went to feed the outside cats when he got home from work about 7pm, he asked me to grab Jipsee and hold her so she wouldn't be able to slip past him. I told her to just put her into one of her carriers and lock the door. It's only for 30 seconds and she doesn't mind. So he did.
It's 1am. I just glanced over and realized she was still in the carrier! We immediately let her out, sniffed the towel and she hadn't peed on it, and now we just feel AWFUL! She never made a sound! She's one to make some noise when she's unhappy, so I'm pretty sure she just fell asleep in there and only now woke up and started looking around. But......just feel awful! And K is over my shoulder, a little pissed that I'm telling the world what horrible parents we are.
Though he now turns to me and claims "Honey, I'm never going to lock one of our kids in a cat carrier."
She's now fully enjoying her freedom.
PS - it's really difficult to photograph a black cat inside of a box!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Use it or lose it
This is gonna be a sex post. Family should probably skip this one.
I naturally have a rather low libido. I went years without having any sexual contact because I simply wasn't interested.
One of the reasons I married K was because when I met him, my sex drive soared. It was like I finally comprehended what everyone was so excited about. And for the first half of our marriage, we had a whole lotta fun.
Then we started the baby making thing. My libido started to slow a little bit before that, it was on a natural decline that happens when new love becomes daily love.
We never had to do the timed sex thing. Once we got ourselves fully tested while doing a month of clomid, we learned that in our particular situation, a lucky accident (or a well timed baby dance) simply would not happen for us. So we skipped the months of temping and tracking and having well timed sex and went straight to IVF.
But even though we got to skip all of that responsibility sex, it still hasn't been much of a priority for me. I'm just not interested. And because I haven't been interested, and K is not one to push, we aren't having a whole lot of action going on. And it's becoming a self-perpetuating problem. The less we do it, the less interested we both become.
Not only am I not interested, but I've come to hate my body so much that I don't want to disgust someone else with it. This thing I'm dragging around from appointment to appointment isn't a body, it's a failing science experiment. It's a big bag of wonky hormones, too much fat, copious amounts of uterine lining, follicles to coax into producing eggs. One thing it isn't is a hot tamale sex machine. I'm so disgusted by this thing that I live in that not only can I not imagine it bringing me any pleasure, but when K puts his hands on it, I feel like that first date when you try to hide your fat rolls, but he's touching it so I can't hide it, ick!!!
K and I had a talk about it last night. I want to get back to having fun with him, and I'm not sure how to go about doing that. It takes 7 compliments to negate every insult that a person hears about themselves. And my brain is insulting my body quite a bit whether I want it to or not. He said that he doesn't know how often my brain is insulting my body and he just can't keep up with the compliment demand. I told him that if I'm going to be tasked with trying to turn my libido around, he's tasked with trying to keep up with the compliment demand in order to help me feel better about my body.
We've got a few more days to work up to this. I'm cycling right now and I'm just not going to feel sexy when I'm all squishy. But last night as we drifted to sleep, he started the compliments and even though they were forced, and somewhat corny, and lead to giggles instead of libido, it felt good. If nothing else, the silliness of it brings some of the fun back.
I naturally have a rather low libido. I went years without having any sexual contact because I simply wasn't interested.
One of the reasons I married K was because when I met him, my sex drive soared. It was like I finally comprehended what everyone was so excited about. And for the first half of our marriage, we had a whole lotta fun.
Then we started the baby making thing. My libido started to slow a little bit before that, it was on a natural decline that happens when new love becomes daily love.
We never had to do the timed sex thing. Once we got ourselves fully tested while doing a month of clomid, we learned that in our particular situation, a lucky accident (or a well timed baby dance) simply would not happen for us. So we skipped the months of temping and tracking and having well timed sex and went straight to IVF.
But even though we got to skip all of that responsibility sex, it still hasn't been much of a priority for me. I'm just not interested. And because I haven't been interested, and K is not one to push, we aren't having a whole lot of action going on. And it's becoming a self-perpetuating problem. The less we do it, the less interested we both become.
Not only am I not interested, but I've come to hate my body so much that I don't want to disgust someone else with it. This thing I'm dragging around from appointment to appointment isn't a body, it's a failing science experiment. It's a big bag of wonky hormones, too much fat, copious amounts of uterine lining, follicles to coax into producing eggs. One thing it isn't is a hot tamale sex machine. I'm so disgusted by this thing that I live in that not only can I not imagine it bringing me any pleasure, but when K puts his hands on it, I feel like that first date when you try to hide your fat rolls, but he's touching it so I can't hide it, ick!!!
K and I had a talk about it last night. I want to get back to having fun with him, and I'm not sure how to go about doing that. It takes 7 compliments to negate every insult that a person hears about themselves. And my brain is insulting my body quite a bit whether I want it to or not. He said that he doesn't know how often my brain is insulting my body and he just can't keep up with the compliment demand. I told him that if I'm going to be tasked with trying to turn my libido around, he's tasked with trying to keep up with the compliment demand in order to help me feel better about my body.
We've got a few more days to work up to this. I'm cycling right now and I'm just not going to feel sexy when I'm all squishy. But last night as we drifted to sleep, he started the compliments and even though they were forced, and somewhat corny, and lead to giggles instead of libido, it felt good. If nothing else, the silliness of it brings some of the fun back.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
The cycle turns
*This is one of those TMI posts that family and the squeamish might prefer to just skip over*
Well, it's that time again. That lovely confirmation that I'm no closer to what I want in life.
And this month, it doesn't mark a damned thing. Nope, not a cycle start and the beginning of a new try, just nothing.
Why you ask? Well because I failed an FET at the end of June. I had a random mini cycle in mid July that didn't make any sense because it was too soon. But what the hell, we went with it anyway. And then that cycle had to be stopped. So now I'm bleeding from stopping that cycle. Which means in the last 30 days or so, I've had 3 periods of varying strengths.
Kind of liked it better during my 20's when I was lucky to bleed 3 times a year. This three times a month thing sucks.
So obviously I'm not going to do anything with this cycle. The body needs to recalibrate from all of the weirdly induced periods and massive dieting.
Reasonable diet starts up in a couple of days.
*Ok, massive TMI time*
Ok girls, I just gotta get this out because I feel like I'm totally overreacting and maybe making life more difficult on myself than it needs to be. Ready? Ok, here we go...
I haven't been able to use a tampon since I lost the girls. The whole concept of feeling something being held in that canal, and feeling like I have to brace myself if I cough to make sure I don't push it out.....it's all just to reminiscent of trying to hold my girls sac in the canal during the miscarriage. So I've been padding it and just using the bathroom a lot to keep myself relatively clean. Am I just insane?
Well, it's that time again. That lovely confirmation that I'm no closer to what I want in life.
And this month, it doesn't mark a damned thing. Nope, not a cycle start and the beginning of a new try, just nothing.
Why you ask? Well because I failed an FET at the end of June. I had a random mini cycle in mid July that didn't make any sense because it was too soon. But what the hell, we went with it anyway. And then that cycle had to be stopped. So now I'm bleeding from stopping that cycle. Which means in the last 30 days or so, I've had 3 periods of varying strengths.
Kind of liked it better during my 20's when I was lucky to bleed 3 times a year. This three times a month thing sucks.
So obviously I'm not going to do anything with this cycle. The body needs to recalibrate from all of the weirdly induced periods and massive dieting.
Reasonable diet starts up in a couple of days.
*Ok, massive TMI time*
Ok girls, I just gotta get this out because I feel like I'm totally overreacting and maybe making life more difficult on myself than it needs to be. Ready? Ok, here we go...
I haven't been able to use a tampon since I lost the girls. The whole concept of feeling something being held in that canal, and feeling like I have to brace myself if I cough to make sure I don't push it out.....it's all just to reminiscent of trying to hold my girls sac in the canal during the miscarriage. So I've been padding it and just using the bathroom a lot to keep myself relatively clean. Am I just insane?
Friday, August 5, 2011
Need opinions
I've had an idea of something I might want to make and sell in my pottery shop but I'm not sure if it would seem like I'm trying to profiteer on pain.
After losing my girls, I thought about getting a tattoo that symbolized them somehow. Just something to make them permanent. They were too temporary, I wanted their existence to be forever somehow.
Instead of a tattoo, I changed my pottery signature to integrate representations of them. Pottery shards last for thousands of years, my skin will only exist for another 100 or so.
So this is the design of my signature, my original initials with 2 female symbols integrated into them.
I know that I like that it's going out there in the universe and that symbol will exist long after I'm gone.
So I've wondered if other miscarriage mamas might like to have a symbol stone made. Initials, dates, something simple that can be impressed into clay and then fired. Probably not footprints because I can't carve those into clay and they are too detailed. But ya know, something. Stones can be buried, or I can make them something a little more interesting to display on a mantle or something. Possibly even miniature urns for ashes.
So my question is this - if I were to offer something like this for sale in my pottery shop, custom orders of course, is that something that might be wanted or would it seem insensitive, or rude somehow?
After losing my girls, I thought about getting a tattoo that symbolized them somehow. Just something to make them permanent. They were too temporary, I wanted their existence to be forever somehow.
Instead of a tattoo, I changed my pottery signature to integrate representations of them. Pottery shards last for thousands of years, my skin will only exist for another 100 or so.
So this is the design of my signature, my original initials with 2 female symbols integrated into them. I know that I like that it's going out there in the universe and that symbol will exist long after I'm gone.
So I've wondered if other miscarriage mamas might like to have a symbol stone made. Initials, dates, something simple that can be impressed into clay and then fired. Probably not footprints because I can't carve those into clay and they are too detailed. But ya know, something. Stones can be buried, or I can make them something a little more interesting to display on a mantle or something. Possibly even miniature urns for ashes.
So my question is this - if I were to offer something like this for sale in my pottery shop, custom orders of course, is that something that might be wanted or would it seem insensitive, or rude somehow?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
All about the control
In the long run, it's probably for the best that this cycle is canceled. Don't get me wrong, I'm still upset about it, but the rational brain can see that it's for the best.
I got my period only 2 weeks after the failed FET. So waiting a month to let my body settle after all of those hormones before pumping it full of new hormones, probably for the best.
I had less follicles this time than I've had before. Since this is probably my last fresh round, the more follicles so I can bank as many frozen embryos, the better.
And losing that much weight, that quickly, well, I wasn't exactly setting up my body for overall success now was I?
Honestly, it wasn't about that. It was about having some control over something. I have had no control over losing my girls and the failure to produce more.
But before that, decades before that, my big out of control issue was my weight. After years of trying and failing to keep my weight in a healthy place, I had given up and just accepted that I didn't have the willpower, the strength of character, the control to do anything about it.
So when I was tasked with having to do something about it in order to be allowed to move forward with a fertility treatment, I NEEDED to win that battle. I NEEDED to conquer the one thing that's been conquering me all of my life.
If I can just control this one factor, then ......
If I can just have the will power to control my cravings, then .....
If I can just win this one damned battle for a change, then ....
If I can force myself onto the treadmill, then .....
I have no idea what was supposed to come after the "then" in those statements. I don't know what I was hoping would be the result. I just needed the win more than anything else.
Technically, I did win. I lost more weight than I was told I needed to (at first) and a whole lot faster than is supposed to be possible. Because of the BCP weight gain, I lost 4lbs of that weight twice.
Still feel like a loser though.
I got my period only 2 weeks after the failed FET. So waiting a month to let my body settle after all of those hormones before pumping it full of new hormones, probably for the best.
I had less follicles this time than I've had before. Since this is probably my last fresh round, the more follicles so I can bank as many frozen embryos, the better.
And losing that much weight, that quickly, well, I wasn't exactly setting up my body for overall success now was I?
Honestly, it wasn't about that. It was about having some control over something. I have had no control over losing my girls and the failure to produce more.
But before that, decades before that, my big out of control issue was my weight. After years of trying and failing to keep my weight in a healthy place, I had given up and just accepted that I didn't have the willpower, the strength of character, the control to do anything about it.
So when I was tasked with having to do something about it in order to be allowed to move forward with a fertility treatment, I NEEDED to win that battle. I NEEDED to conquer the one thing that's been conquering me all of my life.
If I can just control this one factor, then ......
If I can just have the will power to control my cravings, then .....
If I can just win this one damned battle for a change, then ....
If I can force myself onto the treadmill, then .....
I have no idea what was supposed to come after the "then" in those statements. I don't know what I was hoping would be the result. I just needed the win more than anything else.
Technically, I did win. I lost more weight than I was told I needed to (at first) and a whole lot faster than is supposed to be possible. Because of the BCP weight gain, I lost 4lbs of that weight twice.
Still feel like a loser though.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Clarifying the weight issue
Ok, I'm not sure I've explained exactly why my weight is an issue.
When I did my IVF a year ago, my clinic was attached to a hospital. So the egg retrievals for fat girls were done in the hospital, NOT the IVF office. It cost extra, but at least it could happen.
Now that my clinic has merged with another clinic (merged is the wrong word, I think smothered by would be more accurate), they are no longer connected to the hospital. At least not until the bureaucracies are ironed out. So they don't have hospital facilities to perform the procedure when the patient is over a certain BMI and has higher risk factors of being under anesthesia. According to the icy bitch anesthesiologist, if something were to go wrong, they couldn't deal with it, they would have to call 911. Of course, that really makes me wonder if they should be doing anesthesia on ANYONE if they don't have the capabilities of dealing with it when it goes wrong. But I digress.
So yes, there is a perfectly logical reason behind this.
Do I give a shit about that perfectly logical reason? Hell no!
They set a cut off point. Is it determined patient by patient? Nope. Just a cut off point across the board. For you see, if it was determined on a patient by patient basis, they would see that I've had this procedure before, when I was bigger, and they can see exactly how much anesthesia was used, how I personally responded to it, etc etc. So there would be some wiggle room for a judgment call to be made. I don't see how 5lbs would really change my odds of dieing or enduring brain damage under anesthesia.
But bureaucracies don't function on individual needs and circumstances. It's all about numbers.
Oh, did I mention that my doctor confirmed that this clinic is now indeed owned by a parent company who answers to their shareholders rather than pure medical facility?
Yeah.
So honestly, I really do see the validity to their argument. To a point.
I also see a facility that advertises on the radio. And that must have success rate numbers that are competitive with neighboring facilities. And that yes, big girls do carry extra risk factors in terms of miscarriage, and other undesirable outcomes. And those undesirable outcomes affect success rate statistics that make them competitive. Don't treat the harder cases, don't have those failures on your record bringing down your numbers.
So yes, they have a point. They also have a very strong motivation to stick to their numbers very rigidly rather than consider the circumstances and use that wiggle room to treat those of us who are more difficult to treat.
Whatever the reasons, whatever the validity, it still boils down to I'm too fat to be a mom. I've been judged for a lot of things, but that one really hurts.
My doctor at the clinic is really fighting to get that connection to the hospital put back in place. We were hoping the papers would be signed last week but negotiations are still hammering out. I'm told that it's kind of slower than expected because it's summer. Key players that need to sign papers go on vacations at different times during the summer so it's difficult to get them all around the same table at the same time.
And all I can think about today is that maybe my girls were the only chance at a family that I'll ever get. One thing after another is costing me a month here, a month there. I really miss my girls.
When I did my IVF a year ago, my clinic was attached to a hospital. So the egg retrievals for fat girls were done in the hospital, NOT the IVF office. It cost extra, but at least it could happen.
Now that my clinic has merged with another clinic (merged is the wrong word, I think smothered by would be more accurate), they are no longer connected to the hospital. At least not until the bureaucracies are ironed out. So they don't have hospital facilities to perform the procedure when the patient is over a certain BMI and has higher risk factors of being under anesthesia. According to the icy bitch anesthesiologist, if something were to go wrong, they couldn't deal with it, they would have to call 911. Of course, that really makes me wonder if they should be doing anesthesia on ANYONE if they don't have the capabilities of dealing with it when it goes wrong. But I digress.
So yes, there is a perfectly logical reason behind this.
Do I give a shit about that perfectly logical reason? Hell no!
They set a cut off point. Is it determined patient by patient? Nope. Just a cut off point across the board. For you see, if it was determined on a patient by patient basis, they would see that I've had this procedure before, when I was bigger, and they can see exactly how much anesthesia was used, how I personally responded to it, etc etc. So there would be some wiggle room for a judgment call to be made. I don't see how 5lbs would really change my odds of dieing or enduring brain damage under anesthesia.
But bureaucracies don't function on individual needs and circumstances. It's all about numbers.
Oh, did I mention that my doctor confirmed that this clinic is now indeed owned by a parent company who answers to their shareholders rather than pure medical facility?
Yeah.
So honestly, I really do see the validity to their argument. To a point.
I also see a facility that advertises on the radio. And that must have success rate numbers that are competitive with neighboring facilities. And that yes, big girls do carry extra risk factors in terms of miscarriage, and other undesirable outcomes. And those undesirable outcomes affect success rate statistics that make them competitive. Don't treat the harder cases, don't have those failures on your record bringing down your numbers.
So yes, they have a point. They also have a very strong motivation to stick to their numbers very rigidly rather than consider the circumstances and use that wiggle room to treat those of us who are more difficult to treat.
Whatever the reasons, whatever the validity, it still boils down to I'm too fat to be a mom. I've been judged for a lot of things, but that one really hurts.
My doctor at the clinic is really fighting to get that connection to the hospital put back in place. We were hoping the papers would be signed last week but negotiations are still hammering out. I'm told that it's kind of slower than expected because it's summer. Key players that need to sign papers go on vacations at different times during the summer so it's difficult to get them all around the same table at the same time.
And all I can think about today is that maybe my girls were the only chance at a family that I'll ever get. One thing after another is costing me a month here, a month there. I really miss my girls.
Why a month matters
Yeah yeah yeah, it's only a month. What's the big deal? I mean really, what does a month matter in the grand scheme of things?
Let me up this in terms that any parent will understand.
Imagine that your kids have just dropped dead. And someone tells you "If you lose 20lbs this cycle, you'll have a 50/50 chance of getting them back. If you fail to lose the weight, you have to wait another month to even try. And every month that you fail to make the weight, your odds of succeeding in getting them back drop by 1-2%. By the way, you can't allow the stress to affect you. If you get stressed, your chances of success drop another 10%."
Still seem like it's only a month? Just skip it and try next month? Or does it suddenly seem very cruel that someone has just forced you into this situation?
My kids died. I'm trying to get them back. And I'm losing month after month after month for a variety of reasons. So yes, a month matters, and it's a big deal.
Let me up this in terms that any parent will understand.
Imagine that your kids have just dropped dead. And someone tells you "If you lose 20lbs this cycle, you'll have a 50/50 chance of getting them back. If you fail to lose the weight, you have to wait another month to even try. And every month that you fail to make the weight, your odds of succeeding in getting them back drop by 1-2%. By the way, you can't allow the stress to affect you. If you get stressed, your chances of success drop another 10%."
Still seem like it's only a month? Just skip it and try next month? Or does it suddenly seem very cruel that someone has just forced you into this situation?
My kids died. I'm trying to get them back. And I'm losing month after month after month for a variety of reasons. So yes, a month matters, and it's a big deal.
I'm 5' 4"
Went in for my consult with the anesthesiologists today. Upon walking in, the first thing they do is check my height. I am, without a doubt, most definitely, 5'4".
I start crying because I know how the rest of this appointment is going to go.
They take me to get my weight. Oh, and they won't let me take my jeans off. So fully clothed, I weigh-in at 236.8lbs.
I've crunched the numbers a whole lot. I know what writing is on the wall. They have me sit next to a hospital type bed, behind a curtain, to wait for the anesthesiologist and I'm just sobbing.
Bitch was made of ice. And of course she tells me that we can't move forward with this cycle.
Now bear in mind, I haven't eaten more than 1200 calories in a day in the last 3 weeks. And I couldn't really eat anything this morning because I wanted the numbers down as far as possible when I got on the scale. AND, my husbands damned cat kept waking me up through the night by scratching at the door. She's on a special diet, we feed her in the bathroom away from the other cats, so she's learned this last week that if she scratches on the door, I'll wake up and feed her to shut her up. So I'm starving, exhausted, and I've just been told that it's going to take even more dieting and at least another month before I can have my kid(s).
I was a wee bit upset. And I let her know it. I'm kind of sick of expressing how upset I am to the doctor and nurse that are fighting on my side already so I expressed it to the doctor who was saying no to me. A bitch who's never met me before and has no frame of reference of what a rational person I usually am.
In the end, I tell her to pin down what number I have to be and on what day of my cycle I have to be that number so I'll know for sure next cycle. 232lbs at suppression check. Those are the parameters.
And out the door I storm.
I call the husband and cry in his general direction for a while. I'm trying to calm down before I need to drive to my next appointment for the day. And then I decide to call my nurse since they said she would be calling me that afternoon anyway.
Apparently, bitch with no frame of reference for why a person in my position is as upset as I am is kind of freaking out and kind of alerting people that I might need a psych consult. She mentioned the red flags to me while I was bitching at her and I told her flat out "I've been depressed before, I'm not depressed, I'm momentarily upset. There's a difference and I'm very aware of that difference. I'm fine, but I'm pissed." So my nurse is a bit concerned and instead of venting about how upset I am, I'm forced to ensure people that I'm fine.
Get off the phone her, call Boss #1 who was expecting me in an hour and she's cool with me coming in on Friday instead of today. By now I'm calm enough to drive so I head over to Boss #2, a poor soul who only met me a few months ago and has never had the chance to know me when I'm not going into a cycle, hormonal from being mid cycle, or dealing with a failed cycle. I deliver the pots I've made for her this week and head home.
So my doctor calls me a bit later. He still wants to assure me that we will be able to do this, just not this cycle. That they are still working on getting the paperwork done so that fat girls can get the procedure done in a hospital rather than in the office. It's just going to be a month or two before that's finalized.
You'll pardon me if I don't count on that ever happening.
And he kind of gives me a parental speech about not saying red flag things when upset. Gee, thanks. I control myself 99.9% of the time. Yes, I let my mouth fly today, because I wanted someone to actually feel something in regards to what their policies are doing to actual people. But I still confirmed that I was fine before I left. I think the fact that I didn't throw anything at the icy bitches face is a testament to how controlled I actually am.
So here's where my 5'4" frame stands - I'm hungry. I've starved it to the point of starting to have dizzy spells the last day or two. For the next few days, I'm going to just eat whatever I feel like eating (within reason). I understand that my weight is going to spring back up 5lbs or so, but I need to put a halt to the starvation process. Then starting next week, I should be at a point where I'll need to lose about 10lbs and I should have 6-8 weeks to do it. So I'll start a 1,500 calorie a day diet and try to get that weight down at a more reasonable pace, knowing I can probably crash the last couple of lbs if it comes down to the deadline. And, by then, they might have a backup system in place anyway.
Got a Subway sandwich and some cookies on my way home. Drinking the Coke that's been taunting me from the back of the fridge these last 3 weeks. And picked up some Jr. Caramels at the gas station so I have a little bit of chocolate nibbles in the house this week.
Harry Potter at a luxury/gourmet movie theater tomorrow night. And I intend to enjoy my meal and movie thank you very much!
I start crying because I know how the rest of this appointment is going to go.
They take me to get my weight. Oh, and they won't let me take my jeans off. So fully clothed, I weigh-in at 236.8lbs.
I've crunched the numbers a whole lot. I know what writing is on the wall. They have me sit next to a hospital type bed, behind a curtain, to wait for the anesthesiologist and I'm just sobbing.
Bitch was made of ice. And of course she tells me that we can't move forward with this cycle.
Now bear in mind, I haven't eaten more than 1200 calories in a day in the last 3 weeks. And I couldn't really eat anything this morning because I wanted the numbers down as far as possible when I got on the scale. AND, my husbands damned cat kept waking me up through the night by scratching at the door. She's on a special diet, we feed her in the bathroom away from the other cats, so she's learned this last week that if she scratches on the door, I'll wake up and feed her to shut her up. So I'm starving, exhausted, and I've just been told that it's going to take even more dieting and at least another month before I can have my kid(s).
I was a wee bit upset. And I let her know it. I'm kind of sick of expressing how upset I am to the doctor and nurse that are fighting on my side already so I expressed it to the doctor who was saying no to me. A bitch who's never met me before and has no frame of reference of what a rational person I usually am.
In the end, I tell her to pin down what number I have to be and on what day of my cycle I have to be that number so I'll know for sure next cycle. 232lbs at suppression check. Those are the parameters.
And out the door I storm.
I call the husband and cry in his general direction for a while. I'm trying to calm down before I need to drive to my next appointment for the day. And then I decide to call my nurse since they said she would be calling me that afternoon anyway.
Apparently, bitch with no frame of reference for why a person in my position is as upset as I am is kind of freaking out and kind of alerting people that I might need a psych consult. She mentioned the red flags to me while I was bitching at her and I told her flat out "I've been depressed before, I'm not depressed, I'm momentarily upset. There's a difference and I'm very aware of that difference. I'm fine, but I'm pissed." So my nurse is a bit concerned and instead of venting about how upset I am, I'm forced to ensure people that I'm fine.
Get off the phone her, call Boss #1 who was expecting me in an hour and she's cool with me coming in on Friday instead of today. By now I'm calm enough to drive so I head over to Boss #2, a poor soul who only met me a few months ago and has never had the chance to know me when I'm not going into a cycle, hormonal from being mid cycle, or dealing with a failed cycle. I deliver the pots I've made for her this week and head home.
So my doctor calls me a bit later. He still wants to assure me that we will be able to do this, just not this cycle. That they are still working on getting the paperwork done so that fat girls can get the procedure done in a hospital rather than in the office. It's just going to be a month or two before that's finalized.
You'll pardon me if I don't count on that ever happening.
And he kind of gives me a parental speech about not saying red flag things when upset. Gee, thanks. I control myself 99.9% of the time. Yes, I let my mouth fly today, because I wanted someone to actually feel something in regards to what their policies are doing to actual people. But I still confirmed that I was fine before I left. I think the fact that I didn't throw anything at the icy bitches face is a testament to how controlled I actually am.
So here's where my 5'4" frame stands - I'm hungry. I've starved it to the point of starting to have dizzy spells the last day or two. For the next few days, I'm going to just eat whatever I feel like eating (within reason). I understand that my weight is going to spring back up 5lbs or so, but I need to put a halt to the starvation process. Then starting next week, I should be at a point where I'll need to lose about 10lbs and I should have 6-8 weeks to do it. So I'll start a 1,500 calorie a day diet and try to get that weight down at a more reasonable pace, knowing I can probably crash the last couple of lbs if it comes down to the deadline. And, by then, they might have a backup system in place anyway.
Got a Subway sandwich and some cookies on my way home. Drinking the Coke that's been taunting me from the back of the fridge these last 3 weeks. And picked up some Jr. Caramels at the gas station so I have a little bit of chocolate nibbles in the house this week.
Harry Potter at a luxury/gourmet movie theater tomorrow night. And I intend to enjoy my meal and movie thank you very much!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Parameters shall be established
My RE nurse calls me this morning to give me some news. And I had to call her back and have her repeat the conversation because she woke me up and I realized after coffee that I didn't fully understand what she had told me.
Apparently at this clinic, if your BMI is between 35 and 40, you have to have a consult with the anesthesia department before moving forward. Who knew?
So there is now a bunch of rushing around trying to get me an appointment for tomorrow because suppression check is the following day.
But here's why this is good news. At the consult, they will finally establish exactly what my weight has to be below, and on what day it has to be there. In theory, they should decide that I have to be below 240 either on trigger day or egg retrieval. But once that is established, we will no longer have to worry about those parameters changing when I show up for egg retrieval. So if we opt to move forward this cycle, we won't be stopped by someone remeasuring my height and taking away that seventeen thousand dollar inch that I'm worried about. As long as I do my part and keep that weight down, we're good.
Waking naked weight yesterday - 236.5lbs
Today - 237.4lbs. Only slept a couple of hours so I didn't get that usual 3lb drop while sleeping.
What do you think guys? Can I do it? Can I keep my weight under 240 until egg retrieval around the 16th? Stay tuned!
Apparently at this clinic, if your BMI is between 35 and 40, you have to have a consult with the anesthesia department before moving forward. Who knew?
So there is now a bunch of rushing around trying to get me an appointment for tomorrow because suppression check is the following day.
But here's why this is good news. At the consult, they will finally establish exactly what my weight has to be below, and on what day it has to be there. In theory, they should decide that I have to be below 240 either on trigger day or egg retrieval. But once that is established, we will no longer have to worry about those parameters changing when I show up for egg retrieval. So if we opt to move forward this cycle, we won't be stopped by someone remeasuring my height and taking away that seventeen thousand dollar inch that I'm worried about. As long as I do my part and keep that weight down, we're good.
Waking naked weight yesterday - 236.5lbs
Today - 237.4lbs. Only slept a couple of hours so I didn't get that usual 3lb drop while sleeping.
What do you think guys? Can I do it? Can I keep my weight under 240 until egg retrieval around the 16th? Stay tuned!
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