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?
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